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As she walked out of the kitchenette, she saw a black leather jacket lying over the back of a chair, and her stomach lurched.Gray'sjacket. He'd left it behind last night. She picked it up, automatically lifting it to her nose. The strong smell of damp leather assaulted her nostrils, along with another faint scent that was subtler andGray's alone. Sam dropped the jacket, backing off fast, only stopping when the smooth, cool fabric of the floor-length drapes brushed between her shoulder blades and slid against her calves. Tears leaked from her eyes. She was so tired still, her head throbbed, and she was so hot she felt like she was being slow-roasted and suffocated at the same time. The simple act of handling the jacket had releasedGray's scent into the air so that it filled her nostrils with every breath. Abruptly she spun and wrenched the curtains apart, unlocked the French doors and pushed them open. A ribbon of light shafted across the courtyard, breaking open the night. She pulled in gulps of fresh air as she stared out into the heavy pre-dawn darkness, eyes straining. Nothing moved; it was eerily still, except for the faint drift of an errant breeze through the shrubbery. With a shudder comprised of relief and self-mockery, and the chill of perspiration drying on her skin, Sam locked up again, leaving the curtain open in defiance of her fears, and strode toward the shower. * Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Graybolted upright in bed, heart pounding, breath held tight in his lungs, muscles taut and sheened with sweat. An anguished tremor coursed through him, and he swore, a short, succinct curse. Damn. Now that he had finally gotten himself a soft bed, he remembered how much he hated beds, hated sleep. Hated the vulnerability sleep forced on him. Not that actual sleep was the problem; he didn't fear that, or dreams. Sometimes he wished he would dream about Jake's death.Although those dreams would be better described as nightmares. He didn't dream about that bloody day.Ever. He guessed he knew why that was. The stark scene, the hot anguish of guilt, were with him part of him as fresh, as deeply painful, as if the killings had just happened. The phrase "time heals" had no reality forGray . Time hadn't healed; it had just changed the way the grief and guilt rode him. The searing horror of the scene no longer dominated his thoughts, his days; instead it bided quietly, sliding into his consciousness like a shark cruising calm waters, striking in the quiet lull just before sleep or waking, sending a hot river of adrenaline roaring through his veins, making his muscles cord and all his old wounds throb, making his jaw clench against his grief and failure, making him hate and fear that moment of utter vulnerability. Grayshoved himself out of bed and paced, naked, to the window. Something had woken him, catapulted him out of sleep, and he knew better than to ignore his instincts. Maybe it had simply been city sounds; he'd spent a lot of time in small villages and jungles lately, and his senses hadn't yet become attuned to the change of environment.But maybe not. The night was inky-black and still, weighted with the dense rain-rich canopy of cloud that didn't so much hover over the city as sink and smother it.Another hot, sweaty bitch of a night. Grayopened the window, relieved when a faint breeze sifted across his damp skin, cooling him. He ran a hand over his hair, accustoming himself to the sleek shortness of it, the nakedness of his nape. As he stared out at the cityscape, his nostrils flared, catching the aroma of bread baking, mingled with the tang of the sea and the underlying mustiness of theRoyal's old timbers, which evidently soaked up the humidity like a sponge. He wondered where Harper was at that moment, although the thought was only fleeting. Once they dangled the bait in front of him, it would take Harper several days to obtain the people and equipment he needed even so, when he arrived, he would be at a disadvantage. He would be cut off from his usual area of operations. This time he would be onGray's territory, playingGray's game. He didn't question that Harper would take the bait.Gray knew him as intimately as if they were brothers. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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