How close
he was to the truth. Kelli rubbed the towel over her hair,
momentarily taken aback at its shortness. At the sound of water
running in the tub, she hoped Windsor wouldn’t soak his bandages.
She wasn’t sure she had the strength to change them now.
Her eyes burned, and she had the
bone-weary ache and general nausea that demanded sleep. Now. Eating
something would probably be sensible, but she didn’t have the
energy to chew.
She crawled under the covers and closed
her eyes, but tired as her body was, her brain was running like a
hamster in its exercise wheel. How had some Chicago businessman
connected her to Casey? If he’d been sure, someone would have
dragged her back or had her arrested. No, for now she believed
Windsor. And for now, she’d have to trust him. How did Ned Decker
connect? Had Hollingsworth sent him, too? Her mind couldn’t
untangle all the swirling thoughts.
Light filtered under her eyelids when
the bathroom door opened. Darkness returned and she heard Blake’s
quiet footfalls enter the bedroom, sensed his presence at the foot
of his bed. She half-opened her eyes. Light from curtains that
didn’t quite close let her see his form bend over his duffel. In
the shadows, his bruises disappeared and she watched the muscles of
his back ripple when he picked a pair of briefs out of the bag. He
let the towel fall from his hips. Nice ass, was her last thought
before she drifted off.
Later—she didn’t know how much
later—she awoke to the sounds of frenzied breathing. Hers. Robert
hovered above her, gripping her shoulders. “No!” She thrashed with
her arms and legs, saw the glint from his eyes and struck out. A
strong hand held her wrist.
“ Shh. Kelli. It’s a
nightmare. It’s Blake. Come on, Kelli. Wake up.”
Oh, God. Heart pounding, drenched in
sweat, she looked up into Robert’s face and watched him morph into
Blake Windsor. He held her with one hand, the other clutched his
midsection. She found her voice. “Okay. I’m okay. Go back to
bed.”
“ Give me a minute.” He
turned on the bedside lamp and she threw her arm over her
eyes.
She heard his breathing even out,
realized what she’d done. “I hit you? I’m so sorry— I thought you
were— I didn’t mean it—are you all right?”
He pulled his hand away from his
middle. “No big deal. Caught me off guard. You pack quite a
wallop.” He smiled, but his eyes glistened with unshed tears of
pain.
“ I’m
sorry.”
“ You already said
that. It’s not enough.”
“ What are you talking
about?” She dragged her fingers through her hair, surprised again
at the new feeling. Then the memories fell into place and she
shuddered.
“ Your nightmare. You
need to talk about it.” Blake’s voice was quiet, almost
soothing.
“ I …
can’t.”
He turned off the lamp and the parking
lot lights filtered through the curtain gaps, leaving the room in
shadows. “I think you should. Talking helps.”
“ No. Please, go back
to bed. We both need to sleep.” Even in the patchy light, she saw
his eyebrows lift. But he shrugged and turned away, leaning toward
his own bed.
“ Blake?” As if her
hand belonged to someone else, she felt it reach out, her fingers
brushing his. So warm, so strong. She felt hot tears drip from her
eyes and nothing stopped them. He turned around, sat on the edge of
her bed and stroked her hair.
“ It’s okay. It’s
okay.”
Those words seemed to be the permission
she’d needed. The sobs burst forth—wet, sloppy and hiccupy. He
pulled her against him. She buried her face in his chest and
listened to soothing tones of his voice. His hand moved up and down
her back. The hairs on his chest tickled her nose. He smelled like
the motel soap. For the first time in far too long, she felt
safe.
“ Scoot over,” he
said.
She started to protest, but obeyed and
adjusted the covers over herself. Blake pulled the covers from his
bed. He sat against the headboard, legs outstretched next to her
and
he was to the truth. Kelli rubbed the towel over her hair,
momentarily taken aback at its shortness. At the sound of water
running in the tub, she hoped Windsor wouldn’t soak his bandages.
She wasn’t sure she had the strength to change them now.
Her eyes burned, and she had the
bone-weary ache and general nausea that demanded sleep. Now. Eating
something would probably be sensible, but she didn’t have the
energy to chew.
She crawled under the covers and closed
her eyes, but tired as her body was, her brain was running like a
hamster in its exercise wheel. How had some Chicago businessman
connected her to Casey? If he’d been sure, someone would have
dragged her back or had her arrested. No, for now she believed
Windsor. And for now, she’d have to trust him. How did Ned Decker
connect? Had Hollingsworth sent him, too? Her mind couldn’t
untangle all the swirling thoughts.
Light filtered under her eyelids when
the bathroom door opened. Darkness returned and she heard Blake’s
quiet footfalls enter the bedroom, sensed his presence at the foot
of his bed. She half-opened her eyes. Light from curtains that
didn’t quite close let her see his form bend over his duffel. In
the shadows, his bruises disappeared and she watched the muscles of
his back ripple when he picked a pair of briefs out of the bag. He
let the towel fall from his hips. Nice ass, was her last thought
before she drifted off.
Later—she didn’t know how much
later—she awoke to the sounds of frenzied breathing. Hers. Robert
hovered above her, gripping her shoulders. “No!” She thrashed with
her arms and legs, saw the glint from his eyes and struck out. A
strong hand held her wrist.
“ Shh. Kelli. It’s a
nightmare. It’s Blake. Come on, Kelli. Wake up.”
Oh, God. Heart pounding, drenched in
sweat, she looked up into Robert’s face and watched him morph into
Blake Windsor. He held her with one hand, the other clutched his
midsection. She found her voice. “Okay. I’m okay. Go back to
bed.”
“ Give me a minute.” He
turned on the bedside lamp and she threw her arm over her
eyes.
She heard his breathing even out,
realized what she’d done. “I hit you? I’m so sorry— I thought you
were— I didn’t mean it—are you all right?”
He pulled his hand away from his
middle. “No big deal. Caught me off guard. You pack quite a
wallop.” He smiled, but his eyes glistened with unshed tears of
pain.
“ I’m
sorry.”
“ You already said
that. It’s not enough.”
“ What are you talking
about?” She dragged her fingers through her hair, surprised again
at the new feeling. Then the memories fell into place and she
shuddered.
“ Your nightmare. You
need to talk about it.” Blake’s voice was quiet, almost
soothing.
“ I …
can’t.”
He turned off the lamp and the parking
lot lights filtered through the curtain gaps, leaving the room in
shadows. “I think you should. Talking helps.”
“ No. Please, go back
to bed. We both need to sleep.” Even in the patchy light, she saw
his eyebrows lift. But he shrugged and turned away, leaning toward
his own bed.
“ Blake?” As if her
hand belonged to someone else, she felt it reach out, her fingers
brushing his. So warm, so strong. She felt hot tears drip from her
eyes and nothing stopped them. He turned around, sat on the edge of
her bed and stroked her hair.
“ It’s okay. It’s
okay.”
Those words seemed to be the permission
she’d needed. The sobs burst forth—wet, sloppy and hiccupy. He
pulled her against him. She buried her face in his chest and
listened to soothing tones of his voice. His hand moved up and down
her back. The hairs on his chest tickled her nose. He smelled like
the motel soap. For the first time in far too long, she felt
safe.
“ Scoot over,” he
said.
She started to protest, but obeyed and
adjusted the covers over herself. Blake pulled the covers from his
bed. He sat against the headboard, legs outstretched next to her
and
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