Haunting Woods (Under Covers Book 2) Page 4

  'I'll wait for you.'

  The girl he knew was gone. Maybe he waited for her, but she never made it out. I was a battered down copy of hers. I might get away with it now, when the bruises and bandages could give him the illusion that his Skye was still under them. But once the wounds healed, he would see the new me. The real me.

  He knocked before entering. I croaked something that was meant to sound like come in. He had put on even more weight, his hair was longer and I could see now that it was sort of curly. So much more salt in the salt and pepper. The dark circles under his eyes were probably on par with mine, and I had gotten beaten up something fierce. He looked a lot worse than the last time I saw him, and that time he had looked worse than the time before. To be fair, I was on the same downward path. We were both pretty damn far from the happy family look of Mark and Sophia Doyle.

  "You look awful."

  I barely managed to whisper the words. My throat felt rough, but if the doctor hadn't said anything it wasn't probably a big thing.

  "Right back at you," he said.

  "Why are you here? Where's Deacon?"

  "I'm interrogating you. You're under arrest, remember?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  The Bratva had long ears and deep pockets. I'd have to keep the cover until I heard from my handler. After this operation, I'd probably have to leave New York for good.

  "What do you remember?" he asked.

  "Are you seriously interrogating me?"

  "No. I wanted to know if you have any…"

  "Right. Brain injuries. Didn't they do any kind of tests? What the fuck kind of health plan do I have?"

  "They did an MRI. You don't have any brain injuries. There are other kinds of trauma that don't have physical signs."

  Psychology. His forte. I remembered everything I had done for the past four months. I wasn't ready to share that with anyone. More precisely, not with him.

  "I remember, but I'd rather not talk about it just yet. Unless you need the information to get anyone."

  "No, it's ok. You can take all the time you need."

  Despite my resolve, I started to cry. He sat down on the edge of the bed and I leaned into him. He put an arm around my shoulders and I hid my face in his chest. My whole body shook with silent sobs, and I let myself shed the hot tears of shame and pain I held back after Tatiana's death. She had died because of me. She died protecting me.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered. "God I'm so sorry."

  He caressed my hair tenderly, and he whispered back. "You survived. That's all that matters."

  He was too good of an investigator not to know how Tatiana had died. He was giving me absolution for my sins. He was talking about surviving the mission, but I couldn't help thinking of our personal conversation.

  "Thank you," I said looking him in the eye.

  "I told you I'll be here."

  My heart monitor went nuts and the doctor and some nurses burst in.

  "Get out," the doctor told Nick while one of the nurses coaxed him to the door.

  He was almost twice her size, and he let himself be expelled from the room. His eyes were on me the whole time. I couldn't decipher the look. I seemed to see panic and sadness and pain and resignation. I closed my eyes and let the drugs they injected into me do their chemical magic and lull me into another gentle sleep.

  *

  When I woke up for the third time in that hospital bed, Nick was gone.

  I was stable enough to be transported to a county jail hospital. Under the disapproving gaze of the doctor and nurses, they shackled my hands and feet. I walked slowly between the two uniformed cops. I was exhausted enough to hope that this was Deacon pulling me out, and I wasn't actually being transferred to jail. The mission was over and my will to fight was spent. I wanted to rest. I wanted to be debriefed. I wanted to be deprogrammed and allowed back into the real world.

  Nick's Story

  Chapter 11 - Skye in New York

  Katherine was in love. She kept her feelings so well hidden I was sure that no one else in the station knew it. As far as I could tell, even the object of her affection was oblivious to that fact. You'd think cops were good at picking up on these things. I kept my mouth shut, although the big brother in me wanted to tease her about her crush. That thought sobered me up. I wasn't anyone's big brother any more. My sister was dead. Two weeks earlier I got a call from the morgue to identify her body. She had disappeared after weeks of sliding further into one of the worst drinking patches of her life.

  Soon enough I wasn't going to be anyone's son, either. My father was in hospital, not even trying to hang on to life. He was wasting away under my eyes.

  The only other blood relation I had was my nephew, and his father had taken him away to another city a few months ago.

  At least there was no shortage of gruesome high-profile murders in New York, so my job was keeping me busy. I didn't feel like going home most nights. I was at my desk, long past midnight when the phone rang. I picked up without bothering to wonder who would call my direct number at that time of night.

  "Why aren't you asleep?" Skye asked before I could even say my name.

  "Who is this?" I asked, and smiled happy to hear her sharp intake of breath.

  "It's, umm, detective Walker."

  "Walker? Walker? Oh…. Skye Walker."

  "Yes, thank you that never gets old," she said with a huff that wasn't as fake as she wanted it to be.

  "What's up?" I asked, still smiling. It was so good to hear her voice. It took me out of my dreary present life.

  "I'll be in New York next week. For the trial."

  "Oh, that's great," I said pretending I didn't know that.

  Of course I knew. I kept tabs on her old cases and on the development of her career. She was kind enough to keep me updated, but she left out the worst parts of she went through. She was coming to testify against the Russian mafia in the mega case that took the Organized Crime Division over two years of hard work.

  The silence stretched between us. How could I tell her that I wanted to see her when she was getting ready for reliving some of the worst moments of her life?

  At least we were spared the complication of testifying for Tatiana's murder. The OCD had flipped the two killers and they settled for long prison sentences instead of life with no possibility of parole. If she had to take the stand, our relationship would have most likely become public. I would have lost my job and her testimony would have been tainted.

  "I… I might need advice," she said.

  Anything she wanted.

  "You know you can count on me, right? I'm not going anywhere."

  She sighed. I closed my eyes and imagined her breath on my skin. I imagined her closing her eyes slowly, relaxing after I confirmed that I was still her friend.

  "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

  I heard those words so often in my life, they sounded like white noise when people said them. Not so with Skye. The tremor in her voice revealed how deep she needed my help. Maybe she really wanted advice, maybe she wanted to calm her nerves before the trial. Whatever she needed, I'd give it to her.

  On Monday, she called when she got off the plane. She sounded scared and confused. She asked if we could meet later, but didn't tell me where she stayed or if she wanted to meet somewhere. I found out the name of her hotel, and for the first time in months, I left the station exactly at the end of my shift.

  She stayed at the same hotel most out of town cops used when they came to testify. Close enough to the Court House and cheap enough to be expensed without questions. I called from the car and I panicked when she didn't pick up. Twice in my life I had missed her "Help" text and both times she got into serious trouble. I drove as crazy as Katherine did when we were in a hurry.

  "Can you call Miss Walker, in room 2244 please?" I asked the young woman on Reception.

  She looked at the badge hooked on my belt and did it without asking anything.

  "There's no answer, sir. Would you like to leave
a message?"

  "No, thank you," I said dialing her cell number again.

  In a flash of inspiration, or maybe desperation, I went into the hotel bar. She was sitting at a table, staring at an open file. Her eyes weren't moving over the page. She seemed to look through the papers, not at them. She didn't look like she wanted company, and I was glad none of the men in that place dared to approach her.

  She sensed my presence as a threat and almost knocked her chair back when she shot up to her feet. A flush crept across her cheeks and she looked down immediately when she recognized me. She was back in her Joanna persona although she probably didn't want that.

  "Good evening," I said.

  "Good-Hi Woods."

  I loved it when she got flustered. For someone so young, she was very composed. She was also the tightest wound person I had ever met, despite the fact that she meditated daily, as I had witnessed during our operation. I often wondered how much more stressed she would be if she didn't practice meditation.

  "May I?"

  "Yeah, sure, of course, please."

  She closed her eyes and flopped hard back on her chair. She didn't like to catch herself babbling. I sat down and reached across the table. I placed the scattered papers back in the folder and closed it.

  "You weren't reading it."

  "Yes. I mean no." She paused, and took a deep breath. "I wasn't reading it."

  "You're going to do fine. You have a prep session before the testimony, right?"

  It was good practice for any prosecutor to do that. Her eyes fell away from my face. My own eyes were drawn to her mouth. She was chewing her full, plump, delicious bottom lip. It was difficult to remember I was there for moral support when I was flooded with memories of her mouth submitting to mine. Her cheekbones seemed sharp enough to cut myself, but her pink swollen lips begged to be claimed in a kiss.

  I shook my head. Friend and colleague was all I should offer her. It had to be her choice if she needed a lover. We talked about work for a total of ten minutes before she asked me.

  "Would you like to come to my room?"

  'Are you sure?' was what I did not ask.

  'No' was what I did not think.

  'Please' was what I did not say.

  "Ok," I said and I made it sound cold and uncaring. As if it was something of little consequence to me. Skye's darkness seemed to become deeper, but she didn't say anything.

  She tensed up even more during the elevator ride. We were alone but she didn't as much as reach for my hand. However, as soon as the door closed behind us she pounced on me like a cat. As so many times before, I was with my back to the wall and she was kissing me urgently. Her hands were in my hair, and on my face, pulling me closer, touching my cheeks, my forehead, my beard. Her hungry mouth demanded hurried kisses as if she was running out of time. I had missed her for too long to give into her urgency. I loved her too much to give her what she thought she wanted instead of what I knew she needed.

  I cupped her cheek, tenderly, slowing down the duel of our tongues. Deliberately, with long caresses and deepening kisses, I changed the rhythm of our embrace, and the balance of power between us. She arched into me when I trailed my fingers along her spine, along the length of her dress's zipper without undoing it. She rubbed her groin against my burgeoning erection. I was pleased that she wasn't trying to undress me. Her fingertips were tracing my features with purposeful slowness. I didn't need to relearn hers. I felt them in my mind and in my fingertips whenever I allowed myself to recall my precious memories of her.

  "Let me see you," I asked gently, breathing the words on her lips.

  Her breath stopped for a moment. She closed her eyes, took a step back and unzipped her dress. I brushed her neck with my right hand and continued the caress downward, pushing the dress off her shoulders. It caught on her breasts. She shivered when I pulled it off them. Her nipples pushed against the lace of her bra. I hooked a finger in the lace and pulled it gently down. As soon as the hardened pale pink nipples sprang out, my mouth latched onto one. I cupped her breast in my eager hand and squeezed the firm flesh while my lips and tongue ravished her nipple. She hung on to me with both arms, and I anchored her slackened body to me wrapping my left arm around her waist. I went on kissing her breasts for long minutes, reveling in her whimpers. I unhooked her bra and pushed down her panties while my mouth devoured her breasts.

  When I finally let go of her, she staggered backwards, stepping on her discarded clothes, until she rested against the other wall of the narrow hallway. I knelt before her and kissed her lower belly. I nudged her legs apart and she obeyed, spreading them for me. She tensed when I first touched her petal soft skin. I took my time to learn how she needed to be touched that night. She throbbed under the relentless lapping of my tongue, she convulsed and silently screamed when my lips closed around her clit. She pulled at my hair yanking my head away as her body softened. I managed to stand up and catch her in my arms before she folded to the floor.

  "Fucking hell," she whispered. "What are you doing to me?"

  I smiled at her expression of honest bewilderment. She must have thought that I was only good for her when I played Daddy. I wanted to rock her vanilla word and get her addicted to me. Missionary style, in a regular bed was what she needed. She was getting back to her normal life and I had to help her. Sex could be fun without games. Passion could exist without darkness.

  I kissed her mouth and her cheeks when I slid into her. The only lie I ever told her, was one of omission. I held back the truth that night, like all the times before. The words rose up inside me, but I held them back. I love you. It should be simple to say. She might even say it back, but what we had was built on adrenaline and fear of death. I needed her to be well again before I could tell her. At least, that was the lie I told myself when I looked into her eyes, sparkling with unshed tears. Behind it stood the truth that when Skye got back to her life, back to her real self, she couldn't love someone like me.

  My rhythm was slow, deliberate, unrelenting. The closer I got to orgasm, the slower I moved, desperate to postpone it as much as I can. Skye's climax built up and when she came apart was a thing of beauty. Her hot, tight core throbbed around me, shattering my composure. I buried my face in the crook of her neck to hold back the words. I love you. Her moans and heavy breathing pushed me all the way past brink.

  She held me tight after we came. The truth threatened to spill out of me again. I rolled off her, but she followed me, half crawling on top of me. She rested her cheek on my chest. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and hid my face in her hair. To my surprise, she soon fell asleep in my arms.

  I got out of bed without disturbing her sleep. She must have been exhausted. I went into the shower and thought about how close I was to screwing up her life. I had so much power over her, it scared even me. It would be so easy to get her fixated on me, she was young enough that I could shape her according to my deepest needs. I hadn't met anyone quite like her in my life. Such a bright, sunny person with the ability to morph into someone else. Her strong personality and her balanced upbringing would help her not lose herself in my world.

  I fought against the temptation to seduce her, to make her completely mine. After many years of therapy, I still didn't trust myself enough to let loose that side of me. Another major problem was the fact that my needs mirrored some of her experiences. I couldn't risk triggering something in her. But if anyone could take it, she was the one. I had to wait.

  After the shower, I snuck back in bed with her. I was her release from fear and that had to be all for now. She pasted herself on me immediately.

  "I was afraid you left," she mumbled.

  She must have been half asleep to admit that. My tough little girl would bite her tongue before admitting fear. I held her tighter. She tangled her legs with mine and bit my chest lightly. Before I could tell her that it was too soon, she rested her head again on my chest, her breathing became even, and she fell asleep again. I allowed myself to drift to sleep,
too, relishing the thought of waking up with her.

  I woke up alone in bed. Grey sunlight peaked through the curtains. No matter how late the night, I always woke up at dawn. Even so, she'd left again. I should have been used to it, but it stung. Before I could feel sorry for myself, I heard the shower through the open bathroom door. That was a clear invitation and I was not going to refuse. I slept naked and I was getting aroused just by the idea of shower sex with Skye. I took a condom from my wallet on the nightstand before my mind would get clouded by sensations. So vanilla, and yet so exciting.

  She was wet and covered in foam. Her hair looked dark and it stuck to her head under the constant flow of water. She was waiting for me, and she looked pleased with what she saw when I entered the brightly lit bathroom.

  "You still wake up at six," she said, rubbing her breasts absentmindedly, looking me up and down until despite herself her eyes remained on my erection. Her hand slipped from her breasts to the apex of her thighs. Her lips parted and she let out a small mewl of pleasure. I grew harder watching her touch herself, licking her lips and panting.

  "Do you want to finish on your own?" I asked when the rhythm of her strokes sped up, as well as her breathing.

  She jerked her hand away. "No!"

  That was my cue. I stepped in the shower, and took her in my arms. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into a kiss that made me forget my own name. I realized I had dropped the condom when I heard the splash on shower floor. Her eager hand gripped my cock, she stroked it torturously slow, and she kept stroking it when she knelt to the floor in front of me. She picked up the condom with her other hand but instead of getting back to her feet she opened her mouth to let the tip of my cock slide in. She kept up the slow pace of her fist around my cock, and just as slowly she swirled her tongue around its tip.

  One day I was going to do to her mouth what I most wanted. But not that day.

  "Get up," I commanded.