04 A Killing Touch (12 page)

She grabbed for his arm, but missed. Heavy muscles slowed her movement and had her hand brushing her arm. Glancing down, she glimpsed her arm, covered with hideous pustules that bounded through her mind with images of corpses. Her heart slammed, kicking the bedside monitor into a rapid beep pattern. The ceiling became the center of her focus and counting the holes in the tiles became an escape.

The mattress dipped beneath Aidan’s weight as he sat at her side and pulled her damaged arm into his lap. His fingers played with hers, sending tendrils of warmth licking up her arm and through her body. The incessant beep at her side slowed to a steady and less alarming rhythm. She’d never been prone to panic attacks and while the appearance of the rashes had upset her on the other victims it was now hitting home how much those victims had suffered.

Aidan passed her a cup of water. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I drew a dead woman’s hand in a stacked poker game.” She looked back at him, still careful not to lower her eyes enough to see her arm. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

He shrugged. “I was there.”

“And you stayed.”

“You proved there’s a case.”

She smiled. He wanted her to believe what he’d done was no big deal. But it was. To her anyway.

“I grabbed your phone. Called your father.”

With a groan she closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer. “Is he coming?”

“He’s flying in. Should be here soon.”

She groaned again. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“Ha. As if I had a choice in the matter. I’m just glad I knew who he was before I made the call so I could choose words that wouldn’t have him coming after me with his gun.”

She looked at him again, shaking her head against the pillow. “You keep telling yourself that, because your choice just made your life considerably more miserable.”

“How?” His slightly squinted eye and disbelief riding his Scottish tone almost covered concern.

“For starters, he’s going to start asking questions about this case and the last ones.”

“Surely he knows about the other cases.”

“He knows only that I wrote the stories. I never told him what I’d gone through to get them.” She adored her father, and they were very close, but sometimes what he didn’t know didn’t make her life hell. With one phone call, intended to be helpful, Aidan had changed all the rules.

“How did you keep them secret?”

“To a point, we have a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. He wants to believe I write from a four-by-four cubicle in a crowded newsroom because he doesn’t want to imagine me in danger. I prefer it that way because it gives me the freedom to be successful outside of his shadow.” It was a truth she wouldn’t normally have shared with Aidan given his general disdain for her and her career. Yet, he’d slipped past a distancing barrier when he’d saved her life. She owed him some honesty. Besides, he’d do better with her dad if he had an idea what he’d stepped into.

“You…” Whatever he’d intended to say trailed away and he instead shook his head. “I can’t figure you out.”

“It’s not that hard.” The appeal of his confusion might seem odd, except she understood him. He wanted her while he knew they were disastrous as anything other than sex partners. They’d never see eye to eye on issues, but that spark between them… “I’ll even simplify things.”

Exhausted with fighting with him, she grabbed his shirt and tugged so he half lay across her. “Kiss me.”

“Lana—”

“I almost died.” She pulled him the remaining inch and took what she craved.

His chest rumbled. His eyes fell closed. He didn’t part his lips.

Lana swiped the tip of her tongue along the line of his mouth, prodding gently yet firmly enough to brush his teeth and upper gum.

His chest rumbled again. He gripped her hips, digging in his fingers.

“You know you want this, Aidan.”

“I shouldn’t.”

She didn’t ask if he meant he shouldn’t want her or shouldn’t take her. It didn’t matter because a moment later he’d positioned himself at her side and was kissing her. Butterscotch boldness blanketed her with a suggestion of pent-up fear lingering beneath his careful caresses.

He was always a generous and gentle lover, but with a more straightforward passion. This was different. Softer. Hesitant.

She strove for aggression. He eased it into tenderness.

He lingered over the kiss, brushing her lips with his, dancing his tongue across hers. The only show of aggression from him came from the pulsing digs of his fingers, but even that was more of a sensual seduction.

“How long do you think we have before someone comes in?” If his answer was more than three minutes she’d start stripping him. Having a killer come after her could be the impetus for her desire. Or maybe it was simply Aidan. Whatever the cause, trembling need quaked in her veins.

“Not enough.” His fingers continued their rhythmic grip and release. He kissed a trail from her mouth to her earlobe to her neck and then nibbled at a vein.

Her core pulsed with a swelling urge.

“The things I want to do to you shouldn’t be done in a hospital.” Aidan pulled her closer, rubbing his erection against her. His lips teased the edge of her gown.

“I’m dressed in easy-access attire. Do them anyway.” She turned to her side, facing him more directly. To entice him, she lifted a leg over his, rubbing the inside of her thigh against the outside of his.

“Lana—”

“It’s not true what they say.”

“What?”

“Laughter isn’t the best medicine.”

He grumbled low in his throat and held tight to her hip as he returned his amorous mouth to hers. “I’m not asking.”

The pressure of his palm on her pelvis kept her from rolling against him. The resistance heightened her hunger. Her panties were becoming soaked. Every shift slicked the wet satin against her, ramped up her fever. She’d never listened to her mom’s advice about clean panties and accidents, but her mom should have warned her how quickly a man like Aidan could sacrifice her attire. “Because you know sex is better.”

His fingers dug into her hip, pulled her closer as he pushed against her with his palm. His tug of war awakened her wanton side. “Not if you get caught when you’d rather not have a witness.”

“As a potential witness I thank you,” a deep male voice grumbled.

Aidan froze. Lana kissed him lingeringly before easing back and looking toward the door.

Their intruder stood just inside with the perfectly maintained physique from his Army Ranger days that couldn’t be hidden by well-tailored suits. A scowl marred the masterful stare she’d long ago learned how to soften. He was the one man she had always loved and trusted completely. The only man who had never let her down and who’d understood her need for independence. Even when it had been supervised independence as he watched from a distance while she walked to school alone for the first time.

“Hello, Dad.”

Aidan’s moan had nothing to do with sexual need. It and the blush shading his cheeks came entirely from learning the audience he hadn’t wanted was her dad. His gaze begged her to tell him she was kidding. That her father wasn’t standing behind Aidan while his hand was on her hip and her naked leg was thrown over his hip.

“I am assuming you’re the man who called about my daughter. While I’m thankful for that I would appreciate you unhanding her.”

The snapping command in Dad’s voice could have made General Lane sound like a purring kitten when he grilled Clark Kent about his intentions. She’d never minded his bite because she’d never had to really worry about him liking a man she liked. She’d only ever liked one enough to let them meet. That had ended in heartache.

Lana pushed up on one elbow and looked from her leg to her dad. “Clearly I’m offended by his hands.”

“Lana.” Dad’s command turned to a pained plea and as much as she enjoyed the feel of Aidan’s body she enjoyed him more in privacy. She pulled her leg back.

Aidan’s fingers uncurled from her hip and he pulled a light cover over her. Bullets of promise blasted from his intense gaze. She would pay for luring him into an enticing position. Pay for making the meeting of her father awkward.

With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, Aidan turned with his FBI-trained façade in place. “Yes, sir. I called you.”

Aidan crossed the room and offered his hand. All traces of emotion that had crept into his voice during their kiss had vanished. “Aidan Burgess.”

“Agent Burgess.” Her dad’s eyes glittered within his narrowing glare. Aidan might learn to recognize the pleasure if he spent enough time with her dad. In the meantime, she alone knew her father was testing a potential suitor. “I’ve heard about you.”

Aidan’s head cocked a little as he pulled his hand from the hand of Director Bradley Quinn. Tension, particularly stiff between his shoulder blades, betrayed his confidence. Rather, it betrayed his suffering confidence. Until her dad said if what he’d heard about Aidan was good or bad Aidan would wonder. Wondering would drive him crazy.

“Dad, you could have called.”

“I stayed away the last time you were in the hospital. Kept your mother away.” He moved to Lana’s bedside and kissed her forehead. “It couldn’t be managed again.”

“You… Mom…”

“Mom will be up shortly. She’s probably buying the most obnoxious get well gift she can find in the gift shop.” Dad nodded once and shot an unreadable look toward Aidan. She’d thought she could read all his faces. “And yes, I know the story you wrote about the women being kidnapped and sold into slavery was more than your article portrayed it to be.”

“Isn’t the gift shop closed?”

“Not for long knowing your mother.”

Like a sentinel, Aidan moved to Lana’s other side. He stood silently with his hands loosely fisted, resting on the side of the bed. He couldn’t stand between her and her dad, but his body language clearly said he’d stand up for her if needed. Unless he was waiting to see if he needed to jump in and stop her dad from saying too much.

He’d called her dad. Was she wrong in thinking it had been his idea to stay with her? Had he been put under orders during that call.

She studied both men. Both men watched her. And both men were equally unreadable, as if the FBI taught advanced classes on hiding every part of their thoughts and emotions. She settled her gaze on her dad who she had a better chance at reading. “Does Mom know? And how much…”

“She doesn’t. I, on the other hand, know everything that was in the case file.” His softening gaze moved from her to Aidan where it hardened again. “Agent Burgess told me nothing.”

Lana swallowed and lifted her pustule-covered arm. The rage of the rash turned her stomach. She succumbed to reflex and pressed her non-injured hand to her stomach. She wouldn’t succumb to vomiting in front of Aidan and her dad.

“It’s just a rash.” The quaver in her voice irritated her, but she sounded steady enough. “An allergic reaction.”

Dad took her ugly arm and sat on the edge of her bed. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking I didn’t put it all together. Agent Burgess may have held details back during our phone call, but I heard the truth in his voice.” Like Aidan’s had, Dad’s fingers brushed rhythmically across her skin. Though, unlike the effect of Aidan’s touch, she felt herself settling beneath her dad’s. “I also know he’s on Kieralyn’s team and it only takes a quick phone call to learn what they’re working on.”

“Dad.”

“He’s right to worry about you.” Aidan spoke with quiet conviction. Maybe he hadn’t sold her out before, but he was now. Like so many other people he was allowing himself to be swayed by the power of her father. “You need to be more careful.”

“I opened my door and someone touched my arm with a gentle touch.” Like a tennis ball being battered between forces, her gaze bounced between the men sandwiching her. Even as the argument formed on her lips she recognized its falseness. “Not exactly a threatening situation or gesture.”

“Until you consider the case you’re chasing,” Aidan countered.

“You can’t be watched twenty-four-seven, Lana.”

“It’s going to be pretty damn close until this is done.” A metal grater shredding her skin would’ve stung less than Aidan’s declaration. Oddly though, it also settled a quivering need inside she hadn’t noticed.

She didn’t want him shadowing her at all times, but she liked the idea of him sticking around. She especially liked the idea of having more time to indulge in his touches.

Chapter Eight

“Why don’t you men go find Lana some food?”

Director Quinn stood from his side of the sofa, prepared to unquestionably do his wife’s bidding. Aidan settled deeper into the cushions and leaned his head against the wall behind him.

“I’m not hungry, Mom.”

Naomi Quinn angled her chin slightly down. The move shifted her eyes up a little to lend a layer of command to her I’m-a-mother-and-gave-you-an-order look. “The cafeteria is off the lobby.”

“It’s after midnight, Mom. It’s closed.”

Lana laced her words with an endearment she clearly hoped would be enough to halt her mother’s hovering. Her unspoken plea was no more successful at winning her way than Aidan’s would’ve been if it were his mother issuing a command. It wasn’t in their make up to not worry.