Authors: Ingrid Weaver
Tags: #mobi, #Romantic Suspense, #Paranormal Romance, #Fiction, #Shadow, #epub
Delaney's Shadow (45 page)
FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE SHE HAD INHERITED HER husband’s fortune, Delaney was grateful to have the money. Because of it, she’d had no difficulty posting Max’s bail.
Leo wasn’t certain he was innocent. Delaney had seen it in his face, and she was sure Max couldn’t have missed it, either. Leo’s personal opinion hadn’t prevented him from doing his professional best, though. He’d used every means available to ensure Max wouldn’t spend the night in jail. Delaney was grateful for that, too. The effect that only eight hours behind bars had had on him was heartbreaking.
She stole a glance at his profile. A band of illumination slid over his chin as they passed a streetlight. He could have been a marble statue, except a sculptor would have given him more expression. She kept her hands on the wheel and slipped him a mental caress.
There was no response. His mind was closed tight, as it had been throughout the day. It was different from the blank she’d sensed when he’d been sleeping. There was no lack of activity in his head; it was the other way around. Emotions were seething inside him. Every now and then a spark escaped to burn a bright spot on her vision, but it was quickly doused. He was channeling all his energy into control.
She slowed as they approached the lane to Max’s property. “I’m staying with you.”
“Good.”
His ready agreement surprised her. She’d been prepared for resistance.
“You’ll be safer with me at night,” he said. “Your grandmother’s place is too easy to break into.”
She started up his driveway. “Do you think I’m in danger?”
“Yes.”
“Is that the only reason you want me to stay?”
“No. We made a bargain.”
She dropped her hand on his thigh. “I don’t care about the bargain, Max. My only concern is you.”
“Watch out!”
Delaney braked hard. Broken glass glittered in the headlights. The pieces were thick and brown, like the glass from a beer bottle.
Max threw open the door and got out. She locked up the car and followed, picking her way through the scattered shards to where he stood beside his Jeep.
It sat lower than it should. All four tires had been slashed to the rims. A message had been scratched into the paint on the side: “BURN IN HELL.”
Delaney groped inside her purse for her phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“The police.”
“Save your breath. They’re not going to do anything.”
“We need to report it.”
“This isn’t the first time my place has been vandalized.” He aimed a kick at one of the larger chunks of glass. It arced into the shadows. “I just hadn’t thought it would happen so soon. Word must have traveled fast.”
Another bottle had been smashed against his front door. There was a splintered dent in the wood and more glass lay on the steps. He cleared them aside with the edge of his shoe. The windows she could see from here appeared to be intact. Helen had mentioned he’d replaced them with Plexiglas. Wasn’t that fortunate? Delaney fought back the need to cry.
She lost the battle as soon as he opened the door.
His beautiful house was in shambles. Every cabinet in the kitchen had been emptied. The bookshelves were bare. The living room furniture had been upended and cushions strewn across the floor. Even the painting of the storm over the fireplace had been taken down.
But the front door had been locked. The police themselves had been responsible for the condition of the interior. They’d had a legal search warrant.
Delaney reached for her phone again, not to call anyone but to use its camera to take pictures. This had been more than a search; it had been a vindictive invasion of an innocent man’s home. She wanted to make a record of what had been done. Toffelmire and his cronies shouldn’t get away with this. Leo could file a complaint. Too bad her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t steady the phone.
She gave up and dropped her purse on an empty cabinet. She walked to where Max stood beside the couch.
He held one of the cushions, but he made no move to put it back in place. He remained motionless, his shoulders squared and his feet apart, as if he was bracing himself against the kind of weather he often depicted in his art. His attention was on the painting that lay on the floor. It bore the imprint of someone’s shoe.
She blotted her eyes on her sleeve and moved behind him. “I’m sorry.”
Like the heat from an opened oven door, rage gusted from his mind to hers. It cut off just as quickly. He dipped his chin in a stiff nod.
She slid her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his back. She sent her thoughts around his the same way.
This isn’t fair.
This isn’t fair.
He laughed sharply. “Yeah.”
“What on earth were they looking for? Could they have thought you had Elizabeth’s purse?”
“Sure, why not? They might have even thought I stashed her car in here somewhere.”
“They had no right to be so destructive. They didn’t have grounds to arrest you in the first place.”
He flung the cushion toward the couch. It bounced when it hit, flipped in the air, and landed sideways against the arm. “Since when does what’s right make any difference? Welcome to reality, Delaney.
My
reality.”
My
reality.”
“You’re not without resources this time, Max. If Leo can’t help you, I’ll hire someone who will.”
“I can’t take any more of your money. I’ll pay you back for the bond you posted and for Leo’s fee. First thing tomorrow I’ll contact a security company. As soon as we set up protection, you should get as far away from me as you can before the stink rubs off on you.”
She locked her hands over his stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His control continued to slip. He could no longer rein in his anger completely. It surrounded him in a charged haze. “I believed the past was over. I built this house to bury it. I learned to paint so I could leave it behind.” His body jerked against her arms as he kicked the ruined canvas. It skidded across the floor and hit the stone fireplace with enough force to crack the frame. “I was deluding myself. It was all as phony as the worlds we used to make.”
A fresh spurt of tears blurred her vision. They spilled down her cheeks to soak into his shirt. She imagined spreading herself over his back, shielding him with her body and her mind. “No, Max. You did leave your past behind. You’re much more than the helpless child you once were. You’ve made yourself into a man anyone would be proud to call their friend.”
He reached back to grab her wrist. He spun her to face him. More emotions leaked into hers. Along with the anger, there was pain. “I should have kept away from you. I never wanted the ugliness to touch you.”
She stroked his cheek. “This is all a mistake. Elizabeth will tell them as soon as she wakes up.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
There had been no change in Elizabeth’s condition when Delaney had visited the hospital that afternoon. The doctor hadn’t given her much hope, either. “Then we’ll find some other way to beat this. Toffelmire can’t prove that you’re guilty just because he doesn’t like you.”
“Cops can lie. They can manufacture evidence. People you thought you knew can lie, too.” He stopped. “We’re wasting time. You need to uncover the rest of your memories.”
“You still believe the attack on Elizabeth was connected to me.”
“It must be.” He took her hands in his. “You were right before. We have to combine our minds.”
“But you said they’re my memories. You can’t put them in there.”
“I could try helping you find them. I can make the pictures more vivid.”
“It might not work. We’re both upset. This can wait until we’re thinking more clearly.”
“Toffelmire could come up with some excuse to get my bail revoked tomorrow. If there’s a chance your memories can explain what’s happening, we need to take it. It’s the best way to keep you safe.”
This was what she’d wanted for weeks, yet she hesitated. If they joined their minds when he was in a state like this, it would be nothing like the controlled fantasies they’d shared before. She knew instinctively their union wouldn’t be gentle.
“Please, Deedee.” His voice roughened. “I can’t help you if I’m in prison. Don’t make that part of my past come back, too.”
It was the first time she’d heard him say please. It moved her, even as it held her motionless. Tension arced from every point where their bodies touched. It was too late to resist where this was leading; they were halfway there already. Delaney inhaled unsteadily, dropped her forehead against his shoulder, and put her trust in Max.
The connection didn’t begin with an image this time. He wasn’t giving her a picture; he was giving himself. The emotions he’d been struggling to contain flowed crimson and white across her skin and behind her eyes. Power flared, raw and breathtaking. Her feet remained on the floor, yet she was swept along by the flood. She grasped his shoulders to keep her balance.
Her hands closed over bare skin. His fingers dug into the backs of her thighs. She was naked and weightless, held suspended in the swirl of a shared memory. Before she could fully open herself to absorb it, his mind meshed with hers.
Her legs gave out. In the part of her brain still conscious of reality, she felt Max lift her in his arms. He carried her up the stairs to the bedroom. It had received the same treatment as the rest of the house. The mattress had been flipped and lay askew on the bed, so he sank to his knees on the floor.
The moonlit room filled with colors. Some streaked as pure as the pleasure he’d first shown her weeks ago. Others were a tangled, earthy blend evoking what they’d experienced in the flesh. Her senses wove into his, reflecting every nuance of thought and passion, building and multiplying until the fullness verged on agony.
They didn’t stop to question their actions. Though they’d spoken only of joining their minds, what happened next was inevitable. Fabric ripped. Buttons popped. Her fingers shook as she helped Max rid themselves of the remaining physical barriers between them. When they were finally as naked in fact as they were in their thoughts, the urgency dimmed. They were already joined. How could they possibly get closer?
They did. They came together in one smooth stroke as their bodies meshed as thoroughly as their minds. She felt the cool of polished wood beneath her back at the same time she felt it beneath Max’s knees. She felt his chest hair abrade her nipples, and she learned how the hard nubs felt to him as he relaxed into her embrace. She wrapped her legs around his hips and perceived the slide of her own skin cradling his.
This was more than either of them had bargained for, more than she could have dreamed. Their breath mingled. Boundaries dissolved. Images exploded in a dizzying collage.
She saw herself as a child at the shore of the pond, her hair straggling like seaweed and muddy water streaking her chin. Then she was in the trailer and her mother was crying. The air stank of beer. Delaney reached to help her and felt pain lash across her back.
No. Not mine. Look for yours.
She tried to picture Stanford, the car, the accident. Instead, she saw Max stick a twig in the middle of her imaginary mud pie. He laughed as she tried to blow it out. Afterward, he took her hand to lead her through the rose garden while her father loaded her new pink suitcase into his car. Tears brimmed from her eyes as she waved good-bye through the back windshield. She felt them trickle over Max’s cheeks as he watched her drive away.
We’re too far back. Think of your husband.
She felt the weight of her wedding dress. It was covered with beads that glinted and rustled as she moved, like something that belonged to a fairy-tale princess. She walked toward the front of the church, her steps slowing as her feet grew heavy and the dress became shackles. The prison bus reeked of metal and spit. Whistles and catcalls pummeled her ears as she walked through the cell block.
Max laced his fingers with hers and held their joined hands to the floor on either side of her head. He was breathing hard. Her lungs felt scoured bare.
The memories continued to cascade, his mixing with hers until she couldn’t tell where his ended and hers started. Time lost its meaning. She didn’t know whether seconds or hours had passed before the first rush subsided and they learned how to direct the wave.
She saw herself in her satin nightgown, her scars vivid white and pink against her skin. Max stood in front of her, a paintbrush in his hand. He stroked a cloud to life behind her left shoulder, but the other side was on fire. Flames screamed and licked at her hair as they tightened their grasp.
She crossed her ankles behind his legs as her teeth began to chatter.
The heater whirred. The engine revved.
“Let go!”
“I told you to turn around.”
She braked hard. The car skidded to the shoulder. She unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door handle.
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