Enemy From The Past (Unseen Enemy Book 4) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Olivia Jameson stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her bathrobe open, gazing at her chest and stomach. She ran her slim hand over her scars, trying not to flinch. She hated touching them, but her therapist Francine was encouraging her to do so. It was supposed to be healing and empowering – assuming that Olivia could start to accept them.

Not yet. Not yet, I can’t. Living with them and tolerating them… that’s not accepting them.

It was funny, how she didn’t mind much when Dallas touched the angry red lines, but she dreaded touching them herself. Olivia knew that when he looked at her, all he saw was a strong, smart, beautiful woman, ugly scars and all. Since the attack six months earlier, Dallas had kissed and run his tongue over every inch of her flesh, and she’d loved every second of him doing it.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop being grateful and disbelieving that he can still see beyond this scar tissue. He loves me, I know that
.

She heard a noise behind her and she looked in the mirror to meet Dallas’ blue eyes. He was in the doorway, watching her steadily. He knew how much she hated doing this before her shower every morning, and he always stayed close by, just in case it got to be too much. In case she needed him.

“How you doing, darlin’?” he said.

Olivia took a shuddering breath. “OK, today.”

Dallas nodded, didn’t move any closer. He watched her intently, looking out for any sign that she was back in that conference room, down on the floor and being cut up by her stalker. He knew her so well now; he could read her every thought and feeling in those gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes. Sometimes he knew what was happening inside of her even before she’d given the emotion a name.

“Is it getting better?” His rough voice was as soft as it ever got. “Touching them?”

“No.” She tried to smile. “I’m still doing it, though.”

“Do you need me?”

His words brought tears to her eyes. “Always, Dallas. I always need you.”

He pushed himself off the doorframe and came over to her, took her in his huge arms, stroked her long red hair. She leaned in to him, pressed herself against his muscled chest. It still astounded her how safe she felt right there. How completely he protected her, loved her.

She tipped her head back now, gazed up in to his face. The man was nothing short of drop-dead gorgeous, with that cropped dark hair and those blazing hard eyes and full lips. Throw in his incredible physique, razor-sharp brain and wicked sense of humor, and he was nothing short of sex on legs.

Dallas saw her desire flare, and it sparked his own. Slowly, he lowered his head, watching her face to make sure she was totally OK with this. Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted. He took her mouth gently, sensing that she was still troubled.

Olivia pulled back a bit. “I love you.”

He smoothed her hair back from her face with both large hands. “And I love you, baby.”

She nodded, silent.

“What’s going on, Olivia?”

“I – I’m afraid it’s not going to get any easier.”

Dallas stared down at his fiancée, his heart physically hurting for her. He thought she was the most breathtakingly gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and truth be told, he didn’t even see the scar across her perfect cheekbone anymore. But Olivia saw it; she saw them all.

She just can’t look past them yet. She looks in the mirror, her eyes go to the red and purple lines right away. She sees the scars first, her face and body under them second and third. God, what I wouldn’t give for her to see herself the way that I do…

“You want me to help?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “How?”

He turned her back to face the mirror and stood behind her. He took her hand in his, and skimmed their joined hands over the scar on her cheek. His hand was on top of hers, and her fingers stroked her own skin.

“Feel that?” he said. “How soft and silky it is?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Now Dallas pulled her hand down, over her chin, down her throat. Her fingertips grazed the surface of her skin, barely touching it. He stopped just above her left breast, and carefully guided her fingers over the scar there. She shuddered.

“It’s OK, Olivia. I’m right here.” He drew her fingers over the scar again, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “You want to stop?”

She shook her head.

Gently, slowly, he guided her hand up and down her body, ran their fingers along each and every scar. He left the largest one for last, knowing that this was the one that frightened and disgusted her the most. That asshole had sliced her from her breastbone straight down the middle of her body, all the way to her navel. The scar was thick and raised, an angry, vivid purple, and every time she looked at it, she remembered how terrified she had been at that moment. She truly thought he was going to gut her like a fish; she thought she was going to die.

Dallas paused at the top of the scar. “OK?”

She nodded again.

He took her small hand in his large one and carefully traced the scar down. A sob caught in her chest and he stopped.

“Olivia?”

“Don’t stop,” she said. “I’m OK.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Dallas turned her face to his, pressed a tender kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes, just for a second, drawing strength from him.

“I love you,” he said again.

“I know.” Olivia smiled at him. “I can feel it, all the way to my fingertips.”

He moved her hand down, moving it the whole length of her upper body. Olivia watched in the mirror as they traced the horrible scar down, then up, then down again. Each time, it got easier; each time, it felt less uncomfortable. His hand on top of hers was strong, steady. Finally, he stopped and wrapped both arms around her. They stared at each other in the mirror, loving the love between them.

“How was that?” Dallas said.

“Good.” She leaned back in to his body. “Surprisingly good.”

“We can do that every morning, baby. You just say the word.”

Her tears slid down her cheeks, and he used his thumbs to catch them, wipe them away.

“OK,” she said. “It – it’s easier with you. It helps.”

“That’s all I want to do. Just make it better, if I can.”

Olivia turned in his arms. He clasped his hands around her waist, breathing her in. Loving her.

“So what are you up to today?” he asked.

“I’m meeting Nigel for a coffee. He’s got a whole bunch of wedding dress pictures he wants to show me. He says he wants an idea of what I like and don’t like, then he’ll head out to a few stores and pull some dresses for me to try on.”

“So you’re really going through with this, huh?” Dallas teased her. “I guess if you’re shopping for the dress, you’ll actually marry me?”

“Uh-huh.” Her eyes sparkled up at him. “I just hope I can find a dress you like.”

“Baby, you could show up in a white paper bag and I’d think you were the most stunning thing I’d ever seen in the whole of my life.”

“Yeah?” She grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind when Nigel starts throwing the thirty-thousand-dollar dresses at me. A bag’ll cost a mere fraction of that, right?”

Dallas blinked down at her in horror. “
Thirty-thousand
…”

“Yep. Welcome to the world of bridal dresses, babe. Nothing short of highway robbery.”

“I’ll say.” He shook his head. “But whatever you want, you’ll get. You know that, right?”

“Oh, no way. I couldn’t live with myself if I paraded down the aisle in that kind of dress. We’re keeping it small and simple, and that goes for the dress too.”

“You sure?” He kissed her forehead. “I kind of thought that the princess dress was every woman’s fantasy.”

“Propaganda.” She ran her fingers over the tight muscles of his biceps. “A sexy, hot man in her bed is every woman’s fantasy… and mine has already come true.”

“So… the paper bag dress it is, huh?”

“Yep.” She laughed. “A paper bag with some sparkles and glitter stuck on. That’ll do me just fine. Now I just have to break it to Nigel.”

“He’s gonna take it hard?”

“Oh, honey.” Olivia’s eyes sparkled up at him. “You have
no idea
how heartbroken he’s going to be.”

**

Kat turned over, and then wished that she hadn’t. Her head pounded so hard, she wondered if someone had taken to it with a pair of steel-toed boots. She clutched her temples and groaned. The sound reverberated in her skull and made her headache worse. It also seemed to echo all the way down to her stomach, causing it to tilt sharply to one side.

Oh, fuck. I’m going to throw up.

Every movement hurt like hell, but she had to get to the bathroom. Forcing her feet to the floor, she got up, swaying and unsteady. That was when she realized that she was in her own bedroom and she stared around her, totally confused.

What the ever-loving Christ? How did I get here?

Her stomach lurched again, and she lost all interest in how she got home. All that mattered right this second was puking somewhere other than her bedroom floor. Stumbling and fumbling, she managed to wrench the door open. It hit the wall and she winced as the sound knifed through her head.

Kat leaned heavily on the living room wall for support and gathered her strength for the trek to the bathroom. It was a mere ten feet away, but somehow the distance and difficulty looked as insurmountable as Everest.

“Well, good morning.”

She gasped and spun, immediately losing her balance. Strong hands caught her shoulders and Kat suddenly found herself staring up in to the liquid gold eyes of Jim Alden. He was fully-clothed and smelled of coffee.

Wow. He looks pissed off.

She opened her mouth to answer, thought better of it, clamped her mouth shut again. Jim seemed to know what was happening, though, because he just sighed and practically carried her to the bathroom.

“Here you go,” he said. “Come on out when you’re done venting your stomach contents.” He shut the door behind him, and Kat flung herself at the toilet.

Kat wasn’t too sure how much time had passed, but she knew from the pain in her knees that she’d been down on the floor for a while. She was startled when a gentle hand touched the back of her neck, and she glanced up to see Jim standing there with a glass of water. He still looked furious, but she saw a faint gleam of compassion in those incredible eyes now.

She took the water, her hand shaking wildly. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He paused. “How are you?”

“Urgh.”

“Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you go on a four-day bender.” His husky voice was hard again. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

Kat closed her eyes. “Not now, Jim. Please.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this a bad time?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’ve had a goddamn week to talk to me or your friends, and you’ve spent it avoiding our calls and drinking your face off in a biker bar. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Kat didn’t answer.

“Don’t think I’m letting this go,” he said. “I don’t go home until you answer every single one of my questions. We clear?”

Mutely, she nodded, eyes still closed.

“You done puking?”

She shook her head.

“Fine. Let me know when you’re ready to come out. I’ll help you.”

She heard him walk out again, heard the door shut. And she leaned back over the toilet, wondering how the hell she still had anything left to bring up.

Maybe I’ll throw up some internal organs? ‘Cause that’s what it feels like. God help me.

Weak, dizzy, exhausted, Kat lay down on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor. She couldn’t seem to stop shivering, and she didn’t have the energy to call Jim, so she just stayed down there, eyes closed. Wishing she could die.

**

Ten minutes later, Jim stood outside the door, listening. Nothing.

He knocked. “Kat?”

No response.

He opened the door and sighed again. She was out cold on the floor, her small body curled up and in on itself. Her hands were tightly clenched, her whole frame shaking.

Goddammit, Kat. Why’d you do this to yourself?

Jim picked her up off the floor, and carried her back to her room. He deposited her on the bed, and as he took a step back, her eyes flew open. She gasped.

“Kat?”

She stared at him, and he was taken aback at the look of fear in her eyes.

“Hey,” he said, alarmed. “You OK?”

“I – I…” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

Jim studied her. “You ready to talk to me?”

“I… no.”

“Your decision, sweetheart. But I don’t leave until you do, remember.”

She turned over to face the wall, buried her head under the covers. He shook his head.

“You can’t avoid this conversation forever, Kat, try as you might. You get that, right?”

No answer. He left her alone but kept the door a bit open.

Kat stared at the wall in front of her, tears blurring it.

I can’t tell him, not about any of it. I just have to go. But how the hell am I going to get out of here when he’s between me and the door?

Too sick to think anymore, too tired to care much about anything, Kat let her body just collapse in to sleep.

**

Jim poured himself a third cup of coffee and grabbed his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He called Dean Jessop, his friend, boss, and former Ranger unit LT. Dean picked up on the fourth ring.

“Jim?”

“Yeah, man. How you doing?”

“OK. I’m just getting ready to take Emma to her doctor’s appointment.”

“Yeah, I know. She nervous?”

“Hell,
I’m
nervous,” Dean said. “We find out if she’s moving closer to remission… if the transplant and last few rounds of chemo have had any effect.”

“You’ll give her my love?”

“You know it, man. Anyway, is this why you called? Or is something else up?”

“Both.” Jim sipped his coffee. “I wanted to wish Emma luck, but also, I wanted to ask if Mitch or Jase could cover my shift this afternoon.”

“You OK?”

“Yeah. It’s Kat.”