He rolled away, onto the floor and went toward the door at a crawl. How he hated them both.
“Where are you going?” Her voice went shrill.
He needed quiet. No matter what, he wouldn’t come back here until he’d finished. He had a devil’s bargain to execute, and then . . . a life to live.
Lives to
take
. The thought let him climb to his feet, bolstering his strength. He steadied himself on the doorframe, and then left her apartment at a run, pretending he couldn’t hear her crying. It was hard to tell how much of her grief was real, and how much she feigned to bludgeon him with guilt. He’d played the game before.
This time, he would win.
CHAPTER 13
Zeke slept for
a few hours, and when he woke, there was no panic or disorientation. This time he knew instantly where he was and who he held in his arms. He’d expected her to be gone, like she was a dream too dear to keep. Since his escape, he’d suffered nightmares, unrelated to the recurring one, about them finding him . . . not that he knew why they’d taken him in the first place or what they’d done to him while he was there. He tried not to think about it.
They
. There was no surer way to make someone think you were crazy than by talking about
them
.
He hadn’t walked in his sleep, at least, or woken up in the woods again. She soothed the beast. Zeke shifted slightly and gazed into Neva’s face. The sixteen-year-old boy in him couldn’t believe it. She’d slept with him. And she was still here.
He heard her tentative voice saying,
I thought this was something.
Lord knew he didn’t understand her reasons—she could obviously do better—but it almost made him believe in divine intervention, like somebody was watching out for him and saying,
Here, man, you’re due a break.
He laced his hands through her hair, gentle so he wouldn’t wake her just yet. The late afternoon light caught threads of red and gold, turning the plain color into a shining autumn crown. Zeke wasn’t ready to end these private, peaceful moments where she’d given herself wholly to him. That meant serious trust.
He also wanted her again, but the ache was manageable. Easing his lower body away helped. But she shifted at the movement and followed him, throwing her leg over his. Her arm fell across his waist. And maybe he’d have acted on his desire, if he hadn’t heard the kittens mewing.
Still tired, he rolled out of bed without waking her and went to tend to them. They were simple. As long as they were cozy and warm and fed, they didn’t complain. In addition to the hours of human contact, the plush cat fulfilled their need to snuggle; they didn’t seem to notice the difference. But they were always happy to see him; their little minds felt like tiny pinpricks of joy. At first he’d tried to keep them out, but that was more trouble than it was worth. They didn’t hurt him; Zeke just understood he shouldn’t be able to sense them this way. It wasn’t normal. But maybe that was okay.
Their eyes were open and they tried to explore with unsteady little steps. It was harder now to keep them in the box.
By the time he finished, Neva had gotten up. Still not wide awake, she stumbled into the kitchen doorway, wearing his discarded T-shirt. The loose fabric made her shoulders look small and feminine while it clung sweetly to her round butt. Desire spiked to insane levels; it wasn’t her
just fucked
look, though her tousled hair struck him as sexy. No, it was the sight of his shirt on her.
The need to claim her permanently rose in him. Not that he was sure how to make such a claim. He only knew an urge to mark her and make her smell like him from the inside out.
Easy. Give her some time.
“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” she said on a jaw-cracking yawn.
He let his gaze wander down her bare legs. “Hear me screaming?”
Neva grinned. He shared her humor because he was sure it wasn’t directed at him. She didn’t own that brand of unkindness.
“Funny.” But her eyes revealed contentment and she smelled . . . happy. He didn’t know how to put more words to the feeling, but she told him more with her scent than he could learn from her words. Right now, she gave off faint hints of nutmeg and allspice, warmed from her skin.
“Sometimes.” In truth he never had been. He kept to himself, had few friends, and enjoyed simple pleasures. Zeke knew he’d never been extraordinary—and now he was freakish—so it made no sense that she wanted him, but maybe he could light some candles in hope she never figured out the wrongness of it.
“I’m not going to the clinic today.” She paused as if she expected him to argue with her. “They may well be done by now, but I can’t face it. You know the minute we show up, people will be all over us with questions.”
He nodded. “Probably looking for you right now.”
“Shit. I bet my parents are going crazy.”
His heart sank like a lead weight. “Didn’t tell ’em where you are?”
She ran for her cell phone without answering. There could be all kinds of reasons for that. It didn’t necessarily mean she was ashamed of him.
Doesn’t mean she’s proud to be with you, either.
Though she went back upstairs, he heard her clearly. This time he didn’t try to block it out.
The click of the buttons in the quiet house told him she was dialing. Otherwise, there were just kitten noises, the settling wood of the old house, and her breathing. She must be listening to her messages. Then she dialed again.
“Don’t panic,” she said to whoever picked up. “I’m fine.”
A long pause.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve realized you’d worry.”
This time, the silence was even longer.
“I don’t have to tell you that.” Zeke guessed they’d asked where she’d been spending her nights. “It’s none of your business.” A brief break and then, “I don’t give a shit what Ben says. I’m
not
cheating on him. We’re not together!”
More waiting.
“And I’m sorry for that, too. But Luke’s gone and I can’t—” Her voice broke. “Just know I’m all right. Yes, I’ll come to Sunday dinner.” She didn’t say she loved them before hanging up.
Then he listened to her crying softly. Zeke didn’t reckon it was the time to dump his doubts on her. Sometimes you just had to choke it down and do the right thing for someone else. So by the time she reappeared, a good half hour later, she’d washed and dressed, no sign of his shirt or the woman he’d made love to.
He greeted her with a warm cup of coffee. Neva drank it with milk, no sugar. She also liked chai tea, meatball sandwiches, and rainy days. When it rained, her hair tried to curl, but it was too long and heavy, so it became a mass of unruly waves, and she used a honey and keratin shampoo to tame it. The first time he’d seen her stuff in his bathroom, it gave him the strangest feeling, like she might stay, and if she did, then the shadows could be banished from this place for good. The farm might be a home again.
Zeke didn’t ask about her phone call. He figured if she wanted to talk, she would. Prying never helped.
She sat down, cup in hand, at the old kitchen table. For long moments, she stared at the scarred surface while seeing something else, and when she looked up at him at last, her face was haunted. “Do you ever feel like you let people down constantly, just by being who you are?”
He thought about making a sympathetic noise, but he couldn’t. “No.”
“Must be nice.” A faint sigh escaped her.
Again, he gave her the raw truth. “Not really. Means nobody cares what I do.”
That surprised her enough that her coffee cup paused midair. “I know your folks are gone, but what about your aunt?”
He struggled to find the words. They balled up inside in a knot of feelings. “Loves me, but . . .”
“What?”
“Doesn’t expect anything.”
If he didn’t become a drunk like his dad or kill himself like his mom, that’d be enough for Sid. But he couldn’t say it like that. She loved him, but she thought he was too broken to amount to much, given his family history. He hadn’t known that until he came back—and he could smell it on her. Pity had a distinctive scent.
“I’d think that would be nice.”
“Could be, I guess.”
It was just too hard to explain. With everything she had going on, it was no wonder she hadn’t commented on his strangeness. When she did, it would be all over because he couldn’t put it in terms that would ever make sense. And even if he did manage it, she’d never believe him.
Thankfully, her own issues weighed too heavily on her to dig into his. “This isn’t. My parents are pushing me to get back together with Ben. They’re saying he’s just what the family needs—and what I need, too.”
Christ, it hurt to hear that. He’d guessed as much from her call—and the man’s visit the other night—but it raised every hackle for her to speak his name. He had been polished and sure of himself. He drove an expensive car and didn’t have calluses on his hands. Just like that, Zeke wanted to kill him.
“That true?”
Neva
noticed his tension belatedly. He wasn’t sure of himself . . . or them. And here she was, rambling about Ben. It was a cardinal rule of any new relationship:
thou shalt not talk about the ex.
“It might be the right thing for my family. I know a political connection would make my dad happy, and Ben has been helping out at the mill since Luke went missing. But I’m
positive
he’s wrong for me.”
“Sure?” he asked quietly.
“I had him, Zeke. I threw him back because he wasn’t big enough.”
His twilight eyes twinkled. “That so?”
She grinned. “You on the other hand . . .”
When she stepped close, he reached for her and drew her down on his lap. He was already hard, but he didn’t seem to want that, at least not right now. Since she was raw inside, both from the problems at the clinic and ongoing family drama, she curled into him and put her head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“Want you to know,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Oh, God. That sounds like a promise.
She wanted to beg him not to say it if he didn’t mean it. Down the road, things would get complicated . . . and when they found out, her family—and Ben—would surely make trouble for him. Neva wouldn’t blame him if he did bail down the line, but it’d just hurt more if he’d sworn to stay.
Before she could answer, Zeke tensed and cocked his head, listening to something she couldn’t hear. Once more that struck a familiar note. She’d seen animals do it more than once. A minute later the sound of a car crunching down the gravel drive reached her.
“You heard that
way
before I did.” It wasn’t a question.
He didn’t deny it, but neither did he explain. Zeke eased her off his lap and went toward the front door. Neva followed him. By the time he opened it, the vehicle—a plain Ford—had stopped, and a man in his late thirties climbed out. He had dark hair, cropped close to his skull, and caramel skin that bespoke some mixed ethnic heritage. His features were fine and even; some might even call him handsome, except for the ice of his pale green eyes and the stern expression. His tailored clothing showed signs of a hard night and his shoes had lost their pristine polish.
“Zeke Noble and Geneva Harper?” he asked.
“That’s right.” She guessed he already knew that, or he wouldn’t be here. “And you are?”
“Emil Hebert. I’m with the Alabama Bureau of Investigation. I have a few questions for you.” He came up on the porch and offered a hand to each of them.
Zeke didn’t seem thrilled about touching the guy. In fact, now that she was thinking of it, he avoided direct contact with everyone but her. She filed that away for future reference as they went into the front room.
“I’ll get some coffee.”
She didn’t offer either of them a chance to demur, just went to the kitchen. In times like this she liked having something to do with her hands. The men didn’t speak, probably engaged in taking each other’s measure. When she returned, she had three cups on a glass platter. It was probably meant for holiday cookies, but it doubled as coffee service with a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar. She knew how Zeke took it, of course, but she served Hebert’s black, and permitted him to doctor it as he preferred. The men had chosen seats opposite each other, agent in the chair, Zeke at the end of the couch. She sat in the middle beside him, and it felt like he relaxed a bit.
Hebert took a sip. “It’s good. Thank you.”
“Is this about the break-in or the girl?” she asked.
“The girl. They don’t call me out for anything the locals can handle.”
That made sense. “Well, we don’t know anything but what we already told Bobby Pickett and Sheriff Raleigh. But ask away.”
“Did you notice anything unusual last night?”
“Besides the car?” Neva shook her head.
Hebert nodded and focused on Zeke. “I’m told they investigated the abandoned vehicle at your suggestion. Can you tell me about that?”
“Seemed strange it’d be there at four in the morning.”
Neva managed not to react. But that was a lie. He’d told her it was because of the smell. Even in her head, however, that still sounded implausible, so that was probably why he didn’t want to repeat it to the investigator. Unease prickled. Maybe she
had
been too quick to trust him, and God, she’d slept with him . . .
The agent took a few notes, his expression closed and neutral. “Did you have any reason to believe they would find something?”
“Thought it might belong to the burglars,” Zeke muttered. “Maybe they had car trouble after the break-in and had to flee on foot.”
It wasn’t the worst story ever, but from Hebert’s expression, he thought it was just that—a story. “I see.”
Neva fought the urge to begin some nervous babbling. That would only make things worse. She caught a hint of thinly veiled dislike in the man’s eyes when he shifted his attention. A pang went through her.
What’d I ever do to
him
?