The Drowning Man (16 page)

There were four good running trails. It would be so easy for him to choose any of the others, but that would be letting Caroline win. It would be one more thing she'd taken from him. He would not allow that.

He went through his usual series of stretches and set off at a faster than normal pace. Despite the unseasonably warm sun and sweat running off his body, he felt a chill as he approached the last hill. He focused on the ground ahead, half-expecting to see her step out of the trees in front of him, waiting for the shotgun blast to hit him in the back. He didn't stop or even glance into the woods until he came to the end of the trail. He bent over, hands on his hips, as his breath came in ragged gasps. When he caught his breath and started to walk again, it was on trembling legs.

He got in the truck and let his head drop to the steering wheel. His breathing slowed. When he reached for the ignition, his hand was steady. A minor victory.

Trent sat in his truck again at 11 p.m. that night and cursed as he looked across the street at his brother's house. He was getting damned sick of driving on autopilot, not sure where he'd end up. It was too late to bother Nate and his family. Trent put the truck back in drive. As he turned his head, he saw movement. A curtain at the front of the house moved and his brother appeared, silhouetted by the kitchen light. A few seconds later, the front door opened and Nate stood on the porch looking across the street at him.

Trent pounded the steering wheel once, then shut off the engine. He leaned his head back against the headrest and waited for his brother to cross the street. When the footsteps neared, he rolled down the window.

“Hey,” Nate said.

“Hey,” Trent answered, still looking forward through the windshield.

“Want to come inside?”

Trent shook his head.

“Okay, then,” Nate said, coming around the front of the truck and opening the passenger door.

As soon as Nate buckled the seat belt, Trent started the engine again and headed for Mickey's, a hole in the wall Irish pub he and his brother had hit whenever they had the urge to do some serious drinking.

“Let me give Amy a quick call,” Nate said, pulling out his cell as they both got out of the truck.

Trent stood in the gravel parking lot, trying not to hear his brother's words. He did
not
want to know what his brother was saying about him to his wife.

Nate hung up and Trent led the way around the side of the building to the outside patio area. It was cool enough outside that the area was nearly empty. Nate grabbed two beers from the small bar, then joined Trent at a table in the far back corner.

They drank in silence and the minutes drug on. Nathan left the table and returned with two more bottles and two shots of bourbon. He let Trent finish the shot before he spoke. “As much as I like a nice quiet evening kicking back beers with my brother, eventually you're going to have to tell me what's on your mind.”

Trent took a long drink, then stared down at the brown bottle.

“Look, if you won't see someone, at least talk to
me
, dammit.”

Trent did not want to talk about it, but Nathan wouldn't give up. Not this time. Then the words started to come. “You can't even imagine. The first time she brought me back, I thought she'd changed her mind. But killing me once wasn't enough for her.

“I wanted to die. I tried to provoke them. I was sick. I stopped eating and drinking. I just wanted it to end.”

Nathan looked down at the rough wood of the table. He couldn't stand the look on his brother's face, a mixture of fear, rage, and shame. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about what it would have been like to be in a situation where death seemed like the best option. It was a miracle he still had a brother. He felt tears burn the back of his throat. He opened his eyes, struggled to speak. “I …” his voice broke and he rubbed his forehead.

Trent leaned closer. “It's okay.”

Nathan shook his head. “No, it's
not
okay, dammit. You're my little brother and you've been through something no one should have to go through and there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do to protect you from it.” His chest hitched. “Ah, fuck,” he said as the first tear leaked from the corner of his eye.

Trent put a hand on his brother's shoulder. “You did everything you could do. You've always been there for me. And you're here. Now.”

Nathan drew in a breath, leaned back, wiped his eyes, and looked into his brother's dry eyes. “You're stronger than I could ever be.”

Trent looked down at the floor. “Don't be so sure of that.” He paused. “And I know I'm not handling it well, or at least how everyone thinks I should be, but I am handling it.”

“I want to kill her for what she did to you,” Nathan said, his voice hard and steady now.

Trent smiled but kept his gaze down. “Detective Tatum told me you refused to give up on me. You were the only one.”

“I just wish I'd been there that day at the river. Maybe I couldn't have saved Eddie, but at least then his mom would have blamed me and not you.”

Trent's eyes shot up, piercing his brother's. “Don't say that! You have Amy and the girls to think about.”

“I just … I just want you to be okay.”

“I will be.” Trent met his brother's steady gaze. “I will be,” he said, softer this time.

Trent still wasn’t well, but the more he went through the motions, the easier it became. He still looked for Chad sometimes when the alarm sounded, still turned to search for him in the middle of a fire. Chad had been the only other person in the world besides his brother, that Trent had completely let in.

But he couldn’t fight fires alone.

He needed the guys in the house and they needed him. He was part of something good again. He made a difference.
They
made a difference.

He forced himself to eat, he ran, he went to work, and he did his best to appear normal. Most of the time it worked and the days turned into weeks.

Times like this, late at night when he couldn't sleep, he tried to remember those first days in the hospital. He couldn't see one detail, one minute, until the day he'd come out of whatever unresponsive state he'd been in. He was torn between frustration at the lack of memory and thankfulness that he didn't have to relive those days again. It was bad enough having the fragmented memories of his time in Caroline’s house. They came out of the blue, occurring at random times with no pattern whatsoever. Nothing he could pinpoint as the trigger for them. For the first time since being in the hospital, he considered taking Dr. Hender's advice and talking to someone.

He threw off the covers and got out of bed. Pacing, he ran a hand through his hair.

No. That wasn't the answer. Not for him. He would figure this out on his own. As much as he didn't want to think about what had happened to him, he had to face it down to fix whatever about himself that was damaged. A part of him was broken, that was all too clear. Some part of him was missing and he didn't know if he'd ever find it again.

Eventually he'd have to slow down and deal with it, he knew that. But not now. Not yet. He wasn't ready to face down those demons. He wasn't strong enough, as much as he did not want to accept that fact. It was easier to force himself to keep going forward without looking back. To pretend he was normal.

And dating was normal.

He needed a break, needed something pure and real to hold onto. Images of Lora's naked body wrapped around his filled his mind and he smiled.
That
was what he needed, not some damned shrink. It didn’t have to be anything complicated. They were simply two consenting adults.

Lora sat in her car, not yet ready to get out. The last man she had felt anything for had died in front of her and she hadn't been able to stop it. As often as she'd told herself what she felt for Trent was nothing but simple lust, she'd known all along it was a lie. He was special. A survivor, just like her. It was only natural that she and Trent shared some sort of connection after sharing such a traumatic experience. That didn’t mean what she felt for him was anything more.

Realistically, the chances of them having a successful relationship were slim to none. She could think of a dozen reasons to justify her thinking, the least of which was the fact that their jobs required so much of not just their time, but of
them
. Then there was the fact that it had taken him two weeks to call her back.

And yet, she hadn't been able to say no when he'd asked her to come over to his place for dinner tonight. Just dinner. They'd eat, then she'd tell him she couldn't see him again. Too easy. She got out of the car.

Lora did a quick scan of the area around Trent’s apartment as she waited for him to open the door. She rang the doorbell again, looked at her watch. She closed her eyes and waited for that twinge in her gut that something was wrong before she broke in or called dispatch. Nothing came. She relaxed and sat down on the brick step to wait for him. Ten minutes later, his truck sped into the parking lot.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he jumped out. “Last minute call.”

His clothes were clean, but there was a smudge of soot on his left cheekbone and he smelled like sweat and smoke. Her heart skipped.

Lora stood up. “Well, let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

Trent unlocked the apartment door and let her in. “I thought we’d order Chinese, if that’s okay.” He pointed at the couch, then patted the top of the cushion. “Have a seat. I’ll just grab a quick shower.”

Lora sat and watched him pull off his shirt as he walked down the hall. She heard the water start and imagined Trent standing in the shower, water streaming over his naked body.
Enough
. She shook her head. She was here for dinner. Nothing more.

She got up and made her way into the kitchen, found the phonebook, and flipped to the menu section. Her mind wandered, her eyes not seeing the words or pictures. She looked up as Trent stopped inside the doorway, barefoot and wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, running a hand through his damp hair.

“Anything look good?” he asked.

Oh yeah.
Lora looked at him and bit her lower lip. She wasn’t used to the intense sexual feelings he brought out in her. They made it damned hard to think. And she hated anything that made her feel out of control. Another reason to stop this before it went any further.

“Umm, I know Panda King delivers to this area,” she said.

He continued to watch her from the doorway.

“And they have really good egg rolls,” she stammered on. “And the fried rice is good too, and … Ah hell, just get over here and kiss me.”

Trent grinned and crossed the distance between them in two long strides. He loved how her green eyes darkened when she was angry. Or aroused. The sight of her standing there in his kitchen, eyes wide, mouth ready and waiting was the most erotic sight he'd ever seen. He'd been right. This was exactly what he needed.

After a kiss that left them both panting, he took her hand and led her down the hall to his bedroom. This time the bed was made. He stopped once they were inside and turned to face her.

All thoughts of food gone, Lora let her eyes devour the man in front of her. She reached out and tentatively ran a hand inside his shirt, sighing as her hands made their way up his chest, feeling the hard muscle lightly covered with soft dark hair. She closed her eyes. Instinct took over. Her body had a mind of its own when it came to Trent. Her tongue explored his mouth as her hands roamed over his body.

They bumped against the bed, sank down onto it.

Trent groaned and forced himself to slow his body down. They were still half-dressed, lying next to each other on top of the covers. He ran a hand gently along her ribs. She put her hand on his, easing it lower.

“Don't stop,” she said.

“Are you sure?” He looked down into her face.

She smiled, her desire for him clear in her eyes. “Oh yes.” She hooked a bare leg over his hips. “But thank you for asking.”

He grinned and bent his head to taste her lips. This time he would take his time, savoring every inch of her. His lips traveled from hers to her full, round breasts, lingering until she writhed and moaned underneath him, her hand gripping the sheet.

Her other hand reached for him, guiding him inside. His eyes swept down the rest of her body. “But I wasn't finished,” he said.

“Now, Trent,” she gasped out.

He lifted her hips and slid deeper inside, until they couldn't get any closer. His eyes closed with the intense pleasure, all thoughts of taking it slow and easy gone. He opened them when he felt her getting close, her muscles quivering around him. The sight of her head thrown back in pure ecstasy sent him over the edge.

When his vision returned, he rolled onto his side, still inside of her, his hands caressing the smooth lines of her skin.

Like before, her body tensed as soon as his fingers got near the scar. Trent stopped moving. He slid out of her and pulled the sheet up to cover them.

She sighed and rolled onto her back. “I'm sorry. I hate that damned thing. It's a constant reminder of my failure.”

“Your failure?”

“I was caught off guard. I didn't react fast enough. If I'd been just a few seconds faster …” her voice trailed off, then she shrugged. “Stupid, I know, but there you have it.”

Trent shook his head, linking his fingers together with hers. “No. Not stupid. Sometimes I wonder how many more lives I could have saved if I'd been just a little faster, a little stronger, if I'd gone down one hallway instead of the other. They're like ghosts that haunt me, these unknown faceless people I should have been able to save.”

He looked down at his hands, at his own scars. “I met the mother of the boy I saved when I got these. She told me that God had saved me so I could save others. But now they're both dead.” He shrugged. “So much for miracles.”

He threw off the covers, turned away from her, and pulled on his jeans.

“You
are
a miracle.”

His shoulders tensed. “Lora,” he started.

“I’ve talked to the doctor, to your brother. No one should have been able to survive what you did.”