Riding on Instinct
Page 33

 Jaci Burton

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
“But she’ll be fine.”
“She’ll recover, yes. She’s stable enough for transfer.” The doctor handed the chart to the nurse.
“Can I see her for a minute before she leaves?”
“A minute. No more.”
“Thanks.”
That was all he needed. He tried not to run, but he walked really damn fast and inched the door open.
The lights were dimmed, but enough that he could see her.
Christ, she was pale. His heart dropped. Her eyes were closed and her arms against her sides. She was hooked up to an IV and some kind of monitor that beeped stuff on a screen next to her bed. He stepped fully into the room and shut the door, walked as easily as he could and stopped next to the bed.
Her face was swollen and bruised, didn’t even look like her. She had cuts and bruises on her arms and neck, the only parts of her body he could see.
This was his fault. He hadn’t paid attention, hadn’t been there for her. They were partners, he was supposed to be at her side, instead of wrapping up the investigation.
Why had she gone off alone?
He slid his hand underneath hers. Her fingers were cold.
Her eyes opened.
She smiled. “Hey.”
It didn’t even sound like her.
“Hey. How are you?”
“I feel beat up.”
“You look beat up.”
“I think the other guy is worse.”
He laughed. “The other guy is dead.”
“Thank you for that.” She squeezed his hand. “You saved my life.”
He didn’t deserve her thanks. If he’d been there with her, this wouldn’t have happened.
“Cheri?”
“They’re patching her up and then she’ll be arrested. You broke her nose.”
She snorted, then winced. “Ow. Shit, that hurts. But good. I dinged Brandon on the head with my stiletto.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “You did?”
“Yeah. I knew those damn shoes had to be good for something. They make excellent weapons.”
“You did great.”
“Thanks. I stayed alive long enough for you to find me.” Her eyes shimmered with tears. “Thank you for finding me.”
There was so much he wanted to say to her. He didn’t know where to start. But the door opened and the nurse came in. “That’s all. Ms. Grayson needs her rest now.”
He turned back to Shadoe, didn’t know what to say to her. Couldn’t really say anything with the nurse tapping her impatient foot in the doorway.
Shit.
What was there left to say anyway?
Shadoe stared up at him, her brown eyes breaking him. He knew it would come to this. Best to make it clean.
He leaned over and pressed a light kiss to her lips. “You take care of yourself.”
She didn’t say anything, so he did.
“Bye.”
She blinked, more tears falling. “Bye.”
The nurse held the door for him while he walked out. He moved down the hall and out the door, climbed on his bike and started it up, then headed out on the interstate, not even sure where he was going.
Back to Dallas, he supposed. Where else would he go? He had paperwork to do, had to file his report, wrap up this assignment, and give all the details to Grange.
This case was over. Shadoe was on her way back to Washington. She’d be okay. The doctor said so.
He goosed the throttle and increased his speed, needing the wind in his face, needing to clear his head, needing something to fill the emptiness inside.
NINETEEN
DRIPPING WITH SWEAT, SPENCE CLIMBED OUT OF THE BOXING ring after going a few rounds with Diaz. It had been brutal, left him ringing wet and more than a bit bruised. But it had served its purpose. For a while, he’d been able to forget everything but fighting for his life.
“Jesus, Spence, are you deliberately looking for a fight?” Diaz, just as sweaty, leaned over the top rope and stared down at him.
Spence grabbed a towel and a bottle of water and shrugged. “Just staying in shape.”
“Bullshit, man. Something’s crawled up your ass in a major way. What’s up?”
He guzzled down the bottle of water and tossed it in the recycle bin. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” AJ said, climbing into the ring.
“It’s the woman we had the assignment with a few weeks ago,” Pax said, entering the ring after AJ. “He’s in love with her.”
Spence shot a look at Pax. “You want me to come in there and beat the shit out of you, Pax?”
Pax smirked down at him. “Is going a few rounds with me going to change how you feel about Shadoe?”
AJ leaned over the ropes. “Call her.”
Pax finished tying the laces on his gloves. “Fuck that. Get on a plane or on your bike and go see her.”
Spence turned away and wiped the back of his neck with the towel. “What good would that do? She has her job, and I have mine.”
“You could call her,” Diaz suggested.
Spence spun around. “Again. Why?”
Diaz rolled his eyes. “Because you’re in love with her? Tell her you want to see her.”
Spence shrugged. “She could have called me if she wanted to see me.”
“Jesus, Spence. Man up. Get on your goddamn bike, take some time off, and go to her. If there’s something between the two of you, figure out how to make it work. Trust me, it’s worth it.”
Diaz would know all about that since he’d had to make it work with Jessie. “It’s different. She’s in D.C.”
“So you keep telling me. Quit looking for the problem and try to find a solution. If you love her, there’ll be one.”
Did he love her? He supposed he did. He wasn’t sure he really knew what love was all about. He’d never been in love before. If love meant feeling miserable, then he supposed he was in love.
Maybe it was time to find out.
Not that he thought it would work out.
It never did.
But he was no coward. And he wanted to see if she was okay. He flung the towel in the basket. “I’m going to talk to Grange.” Diaz smiled at him. “You do that. And have a good trip.”
SHADOE PACED THE CONFINES OF HER APARTMENT, STOPPED, and stared out the window at the sunny sky, then frowned.
“This is stupid. You’re stupid, Shadoe.”
It had been four weeks. She felt fine, but was on six weeks of forced medical leave by the department until she was cleared. And she had nothing to do but sit around here and think.
Too much time to think.
About Spence. About how easily he’d just slipped out of her life with a kiss and a good-bye, and then . . . nothing.
For the first week she’d been too out of it to really notice. She’d had a killer headache and she’d slept a lot. Her body needed to heal.
But she recovered fast, and once she got home, sleeping and wandering around her apartment only lasted so many hours. She craved work, something . . . anything to occupy the long hours.
Her father had called her—not dropped by, of course, but called her. He said she’d performed adequately. In other words, she hadn’t embarrassed him or the family name. That was it.
So much for love. Then again, it was about what she’d expected from him, so he hadn’t hurt her. He’d long ago lost the capacity to hurt her. She was happy he hadn’t come by to see her. It would have been awkward. They had nothing left to say to each other.
Which meant she was alone.
She had friends, but she begged off seeing anyone, claimed she was recovering and needed to be alone.
She didn’t really want to be alone.
She wanted Spence.
She must have picked up her cell phone a hundred times, looked at his name in her address book, her finger hovering on the button. Then she’d put the phone down and walked away. If he’d wanted to contact her, he would have.
He hadn’t.
She’d gotten his message loud and clear. The mission was over. They were over. She’d known it was coming, but she just hadn’t wanted to face reality.
Reality had come and gone. Spence was out of her life. It didn’t matter that she’d fallen in love with him. He hadn’t fallen in love with her.
Time to move on.
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out the window, where people went on with their lives, falling in love, finding that someone to share their world with. For some people it worked.
For her, it hadn’t. She was just going to have to get it over it. Once she got back to work it would be easier. She’d forget.
She’d never forget. There was an ache inside her that wouldn’t go away. And at night as she lay in bed, the cool sheets whispering over her na**d body, she remembered his touch, his taste, his mouth on hers, and wanted what she couldn’t have.
Her father was right. She wasn’t tough at all. Every time she thought about Spence, tears filled her eyes. Like now. She swiped them away, angry that she’d let him occupy her thoughts again.
She turned at the sound of the doorbell, and moved to the door. When she looked through the peephole, she let out a gasp, her heart dropped to her feet, and she broke out in a cold sweat.
Spence! She looked down at her oversized T-shirt, which was all she wore. She wanted to jump in the shower and make herself presentable, do her hair, put on some makeup.
No time.
Ah, hell, it went to her knees like a dress, anyway. She pushed back her messy hair and opened the door.
His smile was brighter than the sun streaming in through her window.
“Hey.” She smiled back at him.
“Hey yourself.”
She wanted to throw herself in his arms, but she held back. “What are you doing here?”
“If you let me in, I’ll tell you.”
“Oh. Sorry.” What a moron she was. She stepped back and he walked in. She closed the door, drinking in the sight of him in tight jeans, sleeveless shirt, and boots. Her throat had gone dry and she fought to swallow.
“Did you ride all the way here?”
“Yeah. Took a vacation.”
“Wow.” He rode from Dallas to D.C. To see her? She wouldn’t begin to hope.
“Nice place.” He turned to face her.
“It’s small. One bedroom. Not much to it, really.” She showed him her tiny kitchen and little eating area carved into the corner, then the living room with its view of Georgetown and the Potomac River. “I got it for the view, mainly.”
He looked out the full-length window and nodded. “I can see that. It’s nice.”
He continued to stare out the window, as if he was stalling. She waited. Finally, he turned to face her.
“We . . . didn’t get a chance to talk much after the mission ended. You were hurt and they whisked you away. We didn’t debrief.”
Debrief? He was here for a debriefing? Not for her, not because he missed her or wanted her or anything even remotely personal. Her heart sank. She lifted her chin. “I filed my report and sent a copy in to General Lee.”
“I read it. I have a few more questions.”
She steeled herself so he wouldn’t see her hands shake, then pointed to the sofa. “Have a seat and I’ll answer whatever questions you have. Would you like some tea?”
He took a seat and looked up at her, his expression unreadable. “Uh. Sure.”
“I’ll be right back.” She hurried into the kitchen, wishing she could run to her bedroom, close the door, and burst into tears. But that would be what a female would do. That would be what her father would expect her to do—fall apart, show weakness.
She wasn’t weak. She could do this. No man was going to break her, not even one she loved. She’d let her father hurt her by not loving her. She’d never let another man do it to her again. She inhaled, blew it out slow and easy, then did it again until she reined in her riotous emotions. Once she was calm enough, she grabbed the pitcher of tea and a couple of glasses and set them on the tray. Okay, now she had to think what else she’d need. Ice, lemon, and—
“I lied.”
She almost dropped a glass. She spun around to find Spence in the doorway to the kitchen. “What?”
He walked toward her. “I lied. I’m not here for debriefing.”
Her heart did a thu-thump in her chest, loud and pounding, picking up speed. “You’re not?”
Closer now, he kept coming until he was right in front of her. He rested his hands on the counter, caging her between it and him. Heat roared off him, blasting her with everything that was male about him, everything she loved and wanted.
“No. I’m here because I missed you, because I wanted to see you, to touch you, to smell you.” He leaned in, pressed his face against her hair. “God, I miss your smell. Miss you in my bed at night. I miss f**king you.”
Oh, God. She couldn’t breathe. Her hands came up to rest against his chest. She felt the fast beating of his heart, equaling the mad pulsing of her own. Her knees were weak, but then it didn’t matter because Spence grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up on the counter, his lips on hers before she could take her next breath.
She melted. Right there on the kitchen counter, with Spence’s lips on hers, she dissolved into a puddle of desire and need and want and happiness.
He was here for her. He’d come all this way to tell her he’d missed her. She didn’t need or want anything else but his hands and mouth on her, his tongue sliding inside to lick at hers with velvety softness that was so unlike the steely hard feel of his body everywhere else. The incongruity of it all was such a turn on. The way his lips brushed so lightly against hers, then the way he grabbed her h*ps and jerked her forward so he could rest his erection against the pulsing wet core of her that screamed out for his touch.