Читать книгу Enticing The Dragon - Jane Godman - Страница 11
ОглавлениеTorque showed Hollie to one of the luxurious guest bedrooms. He explained that there were toiletries and towels in the bathroom, and brought her a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt.
“They’ll both be too big, but until I can get to a store in the morning, it’s the best I can do.”
She plucked at the front of her grimy pajama top with a grimace. “Anything will be better than this.”
“You’re sure you’ll be okay on your own?” He realized how that sounded and held up his hands in a backing-off gesture. “Not that I’m offering to help you shower.”
She attempted a laugh, but it ended on a cough. “I’ll be fine.”
Her bravery and resilience astounded him. She should have died in that fire. Did she know that? Even if she hadn’t figured it out, she must be experiencing a profound sense of shock, yet her courage shone through. When he first saw her, Torque had been drawn to her because of her looks. Seconds later, he had taken the whole never-meant-to-be, fated-mates hit. Now her spirit and strength attracted him just as powerfully as her physical characteristics.
Overcoming a fierce desire to pull her into his arms, he left her alone. But the urge to protect her remained strong. Torque never slept well. The same sorceress who had stolen his liberty and wiped out his clan had once cursed him with her trademark insomnia spell.
Yeah, Teine, the fire sorceress...what a charmer she had turned out to be.
Taking up a position just outside Hollie’s bedroom window, he sat on the grass with his back against the wall and his long legs drawn up so he could rest his forearms on his bent knees. From this angle, he could make sure she was safe and watch the sun rise over the bay. Not that he was in any mood to admire the beauty of his surroundings. His mind was wholly occupied with Hollie and what had just happened.
Being a rock star brought many privileges Torque’s way. This beautiful house with its sweeping grounds and its dramatic views, his island, his fast cars and faster motorbikes...any material thing he wanted was his for the asking. But there was a dark undercurrent to his fame, one at which he had already hinted to Hollie. There were always a few fans whose admiration spilled over into obsession. Enthusiasts who thought they owned him because they knew his face and read every article and interview about him.
Even among a band of big characters, Torque attracted more than his fair share of obsessive fans. Ged, his manager, put it down to Torque’s fiery onstage personality. “They see you as Beast’s torchbearer. Even though Khan is the ultimate showman and Diablo has the dark, brooding looks of a Hollywood leading man, you stand out because the photographers love to catch you surrounded by fire.”
Ged knew who Torque was, of course. The man who had rescued him from the centuries-deep spell cast by Teine was also the man who had given him a new lease on life as a musician. It was a strange life choice, but one that worked. Torque was the only dragon-shifter in the band, but he was among equals. Tiger, jaguar, snow leopard, wolf...his bandmates were all shifters who had been rescued by Ged. Their manager was a businessman by day, a were-bear who saved damaged or endangered shifters by night.
No matter how knowledgeable Ged was, Torque wasn’t sure he bought into the torchbearer theory. It wasn’t just that he got more contact from obsessed fans than his bandmates. The contact he did get was on a crazier level. Ged called it stalking, but Torque wasn’t sure letters and emails fitted that definition. No physical contact was made—he had never even gotten a disturbing phone call—no harm had ever been done to him or his property. And being a shifter in a human world, he found it difficult to know what to do about that. Determined to maintain their anonymity, shifters steered clear of the mortal forces of law and order. Since Torque’s obsessive fans had, so far, limited their activities to strange confessions and occasional threats, he had done his best to ignore them.
Until now. He had a feeling tonight represented a crossed line. Because some of the confessions were very specific. Torque was the person who played a burning guitar. He walked through a wall of flame. He raised a hand and, like the conductor of an orchestra, coordinated a series of perfectly timed explosions along the edge of the stage. And he attracted a small group of people who were unashamed and fanatical about their love of fire. People who looked up to Torque because they sensed something in him that appealed to their fixation. For those very few, it was an infatuation that bordered on worship. They believed he was a fire-god and they offered him their devotion...whether he wanted it or not.
Not. His expression twisted into a grimace of distaste as he tossed a pebble toward the shimmering water.
Being a shifter meant that two parts of him lived in harmony inside one body. His inner dragon didn’t just need fire, it defined him. Sizzling through his bloodstream alongside his mortal DNA. But he was also part human, and that side of him reined in his fiery self. He knew what flames could do. He didn’t worship fire, he respected it. While it excited him, it didn’t arouse him. He could play with its force without pressing the destruct button.
Some of the messages he got suggested his followers—he used the word even though he disliked it—were unable to display the same restraint.
“If anyone gets hurt, I won’t be able to stay quiet.” That had been his ultimatum to Ged when the tributes first started coming. “That’s my deal breaker.”
“You think it isn’t mine?” Ged’s reply had reassured him. “If we find out any of these crazies has actually gone beyond the letter-writing stage, we’ll do something about it.”
As far as they could see, the madness had stayed on paper. It was wild and disturbing, but harmless. Tonight had been far from benign. Tonight, Hollie had almost died. And no matter how hard he tried, Torque couldn’t separate that event from his obsessive fan mail.
His intuition about the fire at the Pleasant Bay Bar scared him. For several reasons, it filled him with more fear than anything he had ever known. First, it meant he was being watched. It was a possibility he had never considered. He wanted to be more intuitive, to be able to say with absolute certainty that he would know if a malignant presence was tracking him. But he didn’t. He was a creature of legend and mysticism, but hunches and premonitions evaded him. His dragon instincts were all sizzling energy and action. He left the finer detail to others.
All he had was an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach that Hollie had been targeted. She was the change, the common denominator. From the moment he first set eyes on her, Torque had been in free fall, as if he had given up control of his emotions. They no longer belonged to him; they were the property of a woman he barely knew.
If he was right, someone else knew what had happened to him in that instant. Someone else was aware of the profound effect Hollie had on him. That person had witnessed their meeting in the Pleasant Bay Bar...and he, or she, clearly didn’t like it. It shook him to consider that an observer could have known the impact Hollie had on him. It had been devastating to Torque himself, but he had fooled himself he had hidden it well. It seemed his acting abilities weren’t as good as he believed.
Even so, no matter how many times he reviewed that scene, Torque couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary about it. Apart from Doug, there had been only a few regulars in the bar. While he didn’t know any of them well, he couldn’t picture any of them as a demented pyromaniac or a jealous stalker.
His thoughts turned to Teine, the sorceress who had fallen in love with him. When Torque didn’t return her feelings—because, let’s face it, she was evil as well as crazy—she had destroyed his clan and imprisoned Torque in an enchanted cave. He would be there now if it wasn’t for Ged. But Teine couldn’t be the person responsible for the fire. She was dead.
Dawn had sneaked up on him and the rising sun was a huge golden disk in the cloudless sky hovering over the silhouette of the trees. Torque knew from centuries of experience that darkness wasn’t the enemy. Nightfall merely provided a cloak for evil deeds. Even so, daylight offered a return to normality. Stretching, he got to his feet.
Within his nighttime reflections, he had been skirting around the central issue. When Hollie awoke, she would want to discuss the fire and Torque would need to make a decision. How much was he prepared to share with her? About his suspicions...but also about his feelings?
* * *
Hollie opened her eyes slowly, leaving her dreaming world behind. The images had been even more vivid than usual. She had clambered onto the dragon’s back, clinging to his muscular neck and pressing her cheek to his scales as he soared over a landscape that was wild, restless and angry. High, towering hills were slashed through with steep valleys and dark, eerie lochs. As they flew, the weather ranged in untamed moods from soaring discontent to blazing sunshine with no thought of moderation between. Although there was no exchange between them, she knew this was his land and she loved it for that reason.
As wakefulness dragged her from her slumber, she knew she was in a strange place. Even so, she felt a curious sense of comfort, as though she was wrapped in a protective cloak through which no harm could penetrate. As memories of the previous night came flooding back, her feeling of well-being dispersed. By the time she was fully awake, she wondered how she could possibly have felt even a trace of security.
Not only did her intuition tell her she had been the intended victim of a targeted arson attack, she needed to call it in. McLain’s reaction was going to make the flash point of that fire look like a failed firework.
Oh, and I have no belongings. No clothes, no money, nothing...
That wasn’t strictly true, of course. When Hollie called McLain, her boss would be able to get her out of Addison within the hour. She could walk away from this undercover job and be back in her own apartment later that day. It would be the safe, sensible thing to do. With every fiber of her being, she did not want to take the safe, sensible option.
Ever since the Incinerator first came to her attention, Hollie had felt a personal connection to him. She always thought of the arsonist as male, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. Until now, her role had never been hands-on. She was a scientist. Her colleagues called her a geek and she accepted the name with an element of professional pride. It had taken a lot of hard work to reach this level of geekery, one where she was called upon to give talks to experienced fire investigators on the science behind the blazes they studied.
Hollie’s inclusion in the Incinerator task force was an indication of the seriousness with which the FBI took the case. She was one of six senior agents assigned to the investigation into possibly the most prolific and dangerous arsonist the agency had ever come across. Her expertise included fire behavior, analytical chemistry and the use of technology to enhance fire scene investigation. She used those skills to enhance and support the team.
The Incinerator’s legacy was the stuff of nightmares. He was a daring exhibitionist who didn’t care about the loss of life as well as the damage to property. The current death toll was twenty-one, but that didn’t include the information Hollie had gleaned from the other countries. Her colleagues had still been processing the details of the new cases when she left the field office to come to Maine. There had been a sense of urgency about starting the undercover operation because Torque would soon set off on tour.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She scrambled into a sitting position.
“Come in.” Her voice had benefited from the few hours of rest. Although it was still croaky, it sounded almost normal and at least she could speak without coughing. She wished she could blame smoke inhalation for the way her chest constricted and the breath left her lungs in a sudden rush as the door opened. But no. That was the Torque-effect.
He remained close to the door, studying her face. “I want to say you look better, but you’re way too pale.”
“Shock.” Hollie made a movement to brush the hair back from her forehead and was surprised to find her hand shaking. Her lip trembled. “I’m sorry...”
He was at her side in a single movement. Although Hollie’s current role kept her away from the action, her early training had brought her in contact with the survivors of fire. She knew she was suffering the classic aftereffects. The extreme physical impact of the shock was receding, but the emotional trauma still had her in its grip.
For an instant, Torque hesitated as though he had encountered an invisible barrier. His expression was guarded, and even in her distress, Hollie took a moment to wonder what was going through his mind. Then he appeared to shrug aside whatever doubts were assailing him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he drew her gently into his arms.
As she leaned her cheek against the warm, solid muscle of his chest, Hollie spared a fleeting thought for the rules of undercover work. She guessed this probably broke several of them. Possibly it smashed them all into tiny pieces. As Torque’s arms tightened around her, the trembling that had gripped her began to subside. Rules were fine if things were going according to plan. Any plan of Hollie’s was ash blowing across Pleasant Bay in the early-morning breeze.
After a few minutes, she lifted her head and attempted a smile. The expression in Torque’s eyes was even more disturbing than the aftereffects of the fire. It was probably best to avoid any close contact in the future. Professional distance. That should be the new plan. Reluctantly, she drew away from him. Some new intuition told her he was equally unwilling to let her go.
“It was just...you know...”
“I know.” His lips hardened into a thin line, indicating he was well aware that the fire was no accident. Suggesting that he wasn’t responsible? Don’t make assumptions. “You don’t need to explain. It was a horrible experience, and recovering from it will take time.”
Her brow furrowed, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between them. Torque must know what she wanted to say. He had walked through a blaze as though his flesh was fireproof. More than that. He had somehow used his body to form a protective barrier between Hollie and the flames. She didn’t need her years of study and hard-earned qualifications to tell her he had defied the laws of science. He could pretend it hadn’t happened, make up a story that he had arrived before the blaze took hold. They both knew it wasn’t true.
“You saved my life.” The huskiness in her voice wasn’t entirely due to the smoke damage. “I don’t know how you did it. I know you didn’t get there before the fire took hold—”
“Some things can’t be explained. Your perception and mine are different.” He got to his feet, bringing any further discussion of the subject to an abrupt end. “I need to go out and stock up on some provisions. I’m not used to having a houseguest.” His smile dawned, swift and dazzling. “I’ll get you some clothes, as well, although I don’t claim to be an expert in women’s fashion.”
Hollie laughed. “I’ll be glad of anything I can wear with dignity. Your sweatpants fall down when I walk.”
“There is one important thing we need to talk about.”
“There is?”
“Underwear.” Torque rummaged in the drawer of the bedside locker and produced a piece of paper and a pen.
Hollie placed her head in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m sharing my bra size with the man I’ve worshiped from afar for most of my adult life.”
Torque’s face changed from laughter to seriousness, his eyes darkening to a slate-gray color.
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “Just that expression. Worshiped from afar. It makes me uncomfortable.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he switched the conversation to practicalities. Pointing her in the direction of the kitchen, he explained that there was fresh coffee already made and the toaster could be temperamental.
“I won’t be long.” She sensed he wanted to say more, almost as if something was troubling him. Whatever it was, he shrugged it off and headed toward the door.
“Can I make a call?”
“Of course.” The moonstone glitter was back in his eyes. “My God, I never gave it a thought. Your family...”
“I don’t have any family. I’m an only child and my parents are both dead. But I have a friend who looks out for me.” Although it was stretching a point to call McLain a friend, it was the best explanation she could come up with. “She can be a bit of a dragon, but she worries.”
Torque’s rich, warm laughter poured over her. When she raised questioning brows, he shook his head. “There are worse things than having a dragon to watch over you.”
* * *
When the call went straight to voice mail, Hollie’s stomach did a bungee jump. This was the secure line Vince King had set up when she went undercover. McLain was her designated handler. The agreement was that she would be available on this number 24/7. Hollie had memorized the number so carefully she was actually able to recite it in her dreams. Her nondragon dreams. Voice mail was not an option.
Maybe she had gotten one of the digits wrong. Taking a steadying breath, she ended the call without leaving a message. Slowly, deliberately, she tried McLain’s number again. And got the same bland voice mail message once more. Panic gripped the back of her neck like a mugger’s hand.
Breathe. Think. After a moment or two, the mists cleared from her mind and some of her usual calm returned. She was letting the Incinerator get to her. Somehow she was making this about him, turning it into something personal. There could be a dozen reasons why her call wasn’t connecting. There could be a fault with McLain’s cell phone. A signal problem here in Torque’s house.
She ignored the little voice that tried to tell her those arguments weren’t plausible. Even so, she wasn’t in any danger. If she wanted to, she could walk out of Torque’s home right now. Okay, she was barefoot and she would have to hold up his sweatpants with both hands, but the point was, she wasn’t a prisoner. She could go to Addison, get in a cab and get the hell out of here. Getting back to Newark wouldn’t be easy, but she could do it. No one was after her. There was no reason to look fearfully over her shoulder...
The thought immediately made her cast a fearful glance behind her. No. She wasn’t going to do this. She had no proof that the Incinerator had set fire to the Pleasant Bay Bar, no proof that anything had happened to McLain. Her imagination was working overtime as a result of shock. Pure and simple.
Her cell phone had died in the fire, taking all her contacts with it, but there was someone else she could call. It wasn’t part of the undercover protocols they’d agreed, but things had already veered so far off script she’d lost sight of the original plan. One colleague calling another wasn’t against the rules. There were other problems attached to calling Dalton Hilger, but they were personal. And they were in the past, she reminded herself. Her history with Dalton was something she preferred to forget. Unlike his cell phone number, which, for some strange reason, was imprinted on her brain.
She knew he hadn’t changed it. Dalton was one of the agents on the Incinerator task force and she’d called him just last week to check some minor details. Her businesslike approach always jarred with his wounded pride. Five years ago, ending their brief relationship had been difficult. Even now Hollie always finished a conversation with Dalton feeling like she’d kicked a puppy...which was why her finger hesitated for a moment over the call button. But she trusted him, and that was what she needed right now.
“Hilger.” The word was a hoarse mumble. A glance at the clock confirmed it was still early. Dalton wasn’t a morning person and Hollie guessed she’d just woken him on an off-duty day.
“Dalton, it’s Hollie.” Sliding open full-length glass doors, she carried the phone and her coffee out onto a terrace that ran the length of the house. Torque had a rock-star view over the bay and she sank into a cushioned chair, drinking in the stunning vista.
“Hey, Hols.” He yawned loudly down the phone. “McLain briefed the team that you were away on some Incinerator-related business.”
“I am, but I need to get in touch with McLain and she’s not answering her cell phone.”
He yawned again and Hollie could picture him. Tall and handsome, with brown hair that never quite did what he wanted it to, endearing in so many ways...just not right for me. Unfortunately, only one of them had been able to see that.
“McLain’s away.”
“What do you mean ‘away’?” The word came out as an undignified squeak and prompted another coughing fit.
“Damn it, Hols. Could you warn me next time you plan on squealing like that? I have very sensitive ears.”
“Where has McLain gone?” She regained enough control over her voice to infuse a warning note into it.
“How would I know? She’s the boss. She doesn’t share her itinerary with me.”
Hollie’s mind was racing. This was all wrong. No matter how urgent McLain’s business might be, there was no way she would have left Hollie without a contact. So what should she do now? Share her suspicions that McLain’s absence was linked to the Incinerator and the fire at the Pleasant Bay Bar? She knew how preposterous it sounded inside her own head. Trying to explain it to someone else, even someone she trusted as much as Dalton? Not happening.
Unprompted, her thoughts turned to Torque. Maybe her perspective had become skewed when he walked through fire for her. It had certainly added another layer to the whole mystery. She faced a stark choice. Do the sensible thing. Tell Dalton about the blaze at the bar and end her undercover status here and now. Or play with fire—the analogy brought a grim smile to her lips—for a little longer.
There was more. It was something she couldn’t define. Hollie was gripped by a powerful conviction that she needed to be with Torque. It wasn’t to do with him; it was about her. She had no idea where it was coming from, or why it had taken such a powerful hold. Maybe it was that old crush, or the shock of the fire. All she knew was she had never felt anything so strongly.
Torque was the link to the Incinerator. She was sure of that. Did Torque know it? If she walked away from him now, she might never find out.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes.” She drew a breath, ignoring the pain in her lungs as well as the misgivings. “When McLain gets back I need you to give her a message. Tell her my cell phone has been damaged, but I’m fine and I’ll keep trying to call her.”
“Okay, but I don’t know when I’ll see her.” To her relief, Dalton didn’t appear to have picked up on anything unusual.
“Can you get me a number for Senior Special Agent Vince King in the New Haven field office?” If she couldn’t speak to McLain, she needed guidance from the agent who had prepared her for this undercover assignment. McLain had brought King in from the other field office, citing his years of experience. He was also skilled in offering support to rookies like Hollie. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like his advice, but she should at least hear it.
“Sure.” Dalton was silent for a few minutes. When he spoke again, Hollie could hear a note of bemusement in his voice. “No one of that name in New Haven.”
“Are you certain?”
“Hundred percent.”
She wanted to insist he go back and check again, but she knew Dalton wouldn’t make a mistake over something like that. His attitude could be casual, but that was deceptive. He was razor-sharp at all times, one of the best agents she knew. Could she have got it wrong? She was sure those were the details McLain had given her... The feeling of discomfort intensified.
“Hey—” the casual way Dalton said the word alerted Hollie to the fact that there was nothing casual about what was coming next “—I may be able to get us tickets to see Beast. Some guy I know has contacts. Not quite front row, but not bad.”
Not quite front row. It summed up her feelings about Dalton. She hadn’t realized it until now, but she wanted front row. Actually, she wanted center stage. The thought coincided with the sound of a car pulling into the drive. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but thanks for the thought.”
She ended the call with that familiar feeling of guilt tugging at the center of her chest. It didn’t matter how often she told herself Dalton was a grown man—he’s five years older than me—with a successful career, and a wide circle of friends. He always managed to make her feel as if she had blighted his life.
Six months. That’s how long we were together. It was fun, but it didn’t set my world on fire. Speaking of which...
She turned her head as Torque walked into the kitchen carrying a variety of bags. He wore a sweatshirt she had seen him wearing in dozens of photographs. It was copied by fans around the world. Black and red, with an oversize hood, it had an image of a burning guitar on the back.
“I have food and clothes.” He nodded at the phone in her hand. “Was your overprotective friend reassured?”
“I couldn’t get in touch with her.”
He stepped onto the terrace. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice sounded hollow as she tilted her head to look up at him. She had come here to investigate him, had known him barely a day, so why did keeping secrets from him suddenly feel all wrong? And why did the thought of leaving him feel worse?
“In a few days, I need to join the rest of the band for the start of our tour.”
Hollie bit her lip. “I understand—”
“I don’t think you do.” His lips curved into a smile, the one that warmed her insides and left her feeling slightly breathless. “How would you like to come with me?”
