Enemy Outside (Unseen Enemy Book 2) (12 page)

Then Dallas remembered her eyes when they looked up at him from his bed just hours before, warm and loving. He thought about touching her cheek, her skin soft under his fingertips. And he remembered her sweet mouth on his own, warm and open, panting his name as Olivia came with him buried deep inside her body.

I love you, Olivia. I love you, baby.

Now Dallas looked through the rifle scope and changed his focus. His whole world became a spot in the middle of Greg’s forehead, right now visible only in Dallas’ mind’s eye. That tiny space was all he saw, nothing and nobody else existed, not anywhere. He stared at that small patch of skin – no more than one-half of a square inch – and imagined his bullet going in right there. He took a deep breath, listened to the rhythm of his own slow, steady heartbeat. Breathed out between beats. And took the shot.

**

For the rest of her life, Olivia would never clearly remember what happened in the few seconds after she heard the shot. It was a mixture of sounds and sensations, all jumbled together, all terrifying.

Glass breaking. Something brushing past her temple, soft and quick as a breath. Then a sound like a watermelon bursting, and something hot and wet spraying across her hair and the back of her neck. Greg letting go of her and falling without a sound, just free-falling backwards and down to the ground, his eyes wide open, already dead. And Olivia took several shaky steps forward and stood there, staring out the shattered window at Dallas on a roof, lowering a rifle. Their eyes met and he was all she saw.

Suddenly, the door behind her was kicked open and she turned with a scream. She fell to her knees, all strength gone, and curled herself in to a ball on the floor. Her hands were in her hair, her elbows tight against her head, her face tucked down in her chest. Someone touched her shoulder, and she flinched and moved away.

“No!” Olivia cried. “No, no, no…”

“Olivia.” She didn’t recognize the voice. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, not ready to come out and face what had just happened.

“Olivia, we need to take a look at you, OK?” Hands tried to pry her elbows away from her head and she screamed again. “Olivia, please…”

“Hey, don’t touch her. Back the fuck off.”

The hands let go and Olivia let out a shaky breath of relief. Someone sat down next to her.

“Olivia? Sweetheart, it’s Sully. I’m not going to touch you, OK? Nobody is.”

She nodded.

“Dallas is coming, Liv,” he said softly. “He’ll be here any second. Just hang in there, OK?”

Olivia closed her eyes, tried to remember to keep breathing. All she had to do was hold on until Dallas got to her, then she could fall apart completely. He’d gather up the pieces, put her back together.

Then suddenly he was there, down on the floor with her, pulling her in to those strong arms, wrapping her in a blanket. Even with her eyes still shut tight, she knew it was him; she curled up on his lap, buried her face in his chest. He was warm and huge and so achingly familiar against her own body, and all she wanted to do was stay right where she was forever. His scent hit her then – male and musky, fresh lime and soap – and that’s when she really knew that it was all over.

“Olivia,” he murmured. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Don’t let go,” she whispered. “Don’t let me go.”

“No way, baby.” His arms tightened. “Never.”

The tears started now, hot and fast. He both felt and heard her crying, and his hand was on the back of her head, pressing her in to his warmth and strength, offering comfort and privacy. Olivia cried for a long time, gasping and shaking, and then suddenly, she was quiet and unmoving.

Dallas held her away from him, saw that she was out cold. That was when he nodded at the medical team to take her. They lifted her out of his arms and he looked down at his clothes; his shirt was covered in her blood.

This is all your fault. You failed her. Completely. And when she figures that out? You’re never going to see her again.

Chapter Eleven

Dean, Jim and Chris were standing by the elevator when the women stepped off. Kat and Jenny were both supporting Emma, who seemed about ready to collapse. Dean jumped forward, took Emma in his arms.

“You OK?” he said.

She shook her head, pale and shaken. “Not yet. Where is she?”

“They’re stitching her up right now,” Chris said, keeping his voice low, trying to keep them calm. “The doctor said she’d be out in ten minutes with an update.”

The women nodded and looked around.

“Where’s Dallas?” Kat said.

The men looked troubled.

“In the waiting room,” Chris said. “He’s – he’s not doing so well.”

“He blames himself?” Jenny asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Chris said. “Come on, this way.”

They all stood in the hallway, staring in to the waiting room at Dallas. He was slumped over in a chair, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His huge body looked diminished, somehow, and he was the very picture of despair and helplessness.

Jenny would never know what made her do it; all she knew was that she couldn’t stand to see this good man so hurting and broken. She walked over to Dallas, sat in the chair right next to his, and took his large hand in her small one.

The others exchanged stunned glances. Dallas stared up in shock, unable to believe that she was actually using touch to reach him, to comfort him.

“She’s going to be OK, Dallas,” Jenny said to him simply. “You both are.”

He blinked. And then, because it was Jenny telling him this – and she knew more about getting through and starting again than anyone he’d ever known – he believed her.

The doctor came in to the room now, and Dallas jumped to his feet, still holding Jenny’s hand.

“How is she?” he asked.

Dr. Vickers looked around at the group. She was a shy, small woman, and she was suddenly surrounded by four extremely large men and three distraught-looking women. She cleared her throat.

“Some of the cuts on her face and torso were very deep,” she said. “Most of them required stitches. Even with plastic surgery, Ms. Jameson is going to be… permanently scarred, I’m afraid.”

The room was totally silent.

“Badly?” Emma said.

“I’m sorry, but yes. There’s one cut on her upper body that’s especially bad.” She hesitated. “It runs the whole length, from breastbone to stomach.”

Kat closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. Jim saw her, and reached out to catch her before she fell.

“Kat!” he said.

She held on to his upper arms, tried to catch her breath. Jim gently led her over to a chair and sat her down. He knelt in front of her and touched her leg.

“Kat?”

“Yeah. I’m OK.” Her eyes opened and Jim saw tears. “I just – it was a shock.”

“I know,” Dr. Vickers said. “I’m sorry.”

“Can we see her?” Emma asked.

“Actually, she’s asking for Dallas. Is that one of you?”

Dallas nodded. “That’s me.”

“OK, you can see her now, then I want to move her to a private room upstairs. Once she’s up there, the rest of you can see her. No more than two visitors at a time, though. Alright?”

“Thank you,” Dean said.

Jenny gave his hand one final squeeze, then Dallas followed the doctor out in to the hallway. She led him to a closed door and stopped.

“In here.” She tried to smile at him, to set him a bit at ease. “Ms. Jameson is awake but she’s heavily sedated, so she may not make a lot of sense right now… she may well pass out in a few moments.”

He nodded his thanks, and went in. He froze when he saw Olivia lying on the bed, pale and small, her beautiful face bandaged on the left side. He came closer, and she turned her head, opened those amazing eyes.

“Dallas,” she said weakly.

“Baby.” His voice broke as he sat on the very edge of the bed and he took her hand. He found he couldn’t actually say one more word.

“Will you leave me?”

His brow furrowed. “No, baby. I’m staying right here.”

“I mean… will you leave me.” Her words were slow and slurred. “Now that I’m ugly.”

“Oh, my God, Olivia.” He knew what she was talking about now. “No way, sweetheart. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in the whole of my life.”

She touched the bandage on her face; touched her bandaged chest. “Not anymore.”

“Yes. Still.” His voice was firm. “Always and forever.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Really?”

“Really.” He leaned down and kissed her trembling lips. “I’m not going anywhere, Olivia, and that is a promise.”

“You saved my life, Dallas.” Her eyelids drooped and with a huge effort, she forced them open again. “You promised to take care of me…and you did.” She fell silent as the drugs took firm hold, and she drifted off the sleep.

Dallas stared down at her, her words like a fucking kick to the gut.

I took care of you? Oh, baby, you’re not thinking straight… I fucked this up totally. You'll see that soon enough and then you’ll hate me. And I’ll totally deserve it.

Until that moment of realization, though, he’d stay with her. His time with Olivia was on a clock ticking down now, and he closed his eyes and tried to accept that thought. He knew that two things were clear. First, when she figured out that this was all on him, he’d dive in to a vat of whiskey and not resurface for a week. Second, he had many, many years of self-loathing to look forward to.

Chapter Twelve
Eight days later

Kat stood in the middle of her living room, hands on her hips, staring at Olivia in complete disbelief. She was exasperated and angry, and all those things she’d been longing to say to Liv for the past week were bubbling away just below the surface. She’d refrained from saying any of them in deference to Liv’s fragility, but she was doing better now, and Kat felt the time for a ‘come-to-Jesus’ talk had finally arrived.

Jim was next to Kat, and he lay a calming hand on her arm.

“Liv,” he said. “I really, really think you’ve got that wrong. In fact, I
know
you do.”

“And I’m really, really sure that I don’t,” Liv shot back. “I don’t care what he
says
… he actually thinks I’m ugly and repulsive.
That’s
why he’s so polite and distant every time we talk.
That’s
why he barely touches me and won’t look at me when he’s anywhere close to me.”

Kat took a deep breath. “He does
not
think that about you. Dallas thinks that this is all his fault. He promised to protect you and he thinks he failed you and he’s waiting for you to come to that same conclusion. He’s waiting for you to hate him, Liv.”

“That’s so fucking stupid.”

“I agree,” Kat said. “Know what
else
is fucking stupid? Assuming that Dallas finds you ugly and repulsive.”

“Look at me!” Olivia shouted. “Look at my face! My upper body looks like a fucking surrealist nightmare! How can he
not
find me disgusting?”

“Because he loves you!” Kat shouted back, losing her temper now. “You think he just loved you for your fucking perfect face and fucking perfect body? You don’t think he loves
you
, Olivia? Your kindness? Your guts? Your sense of humor? My God, Olivia – you
really
think it was all just about your ass?”

Liv and Jim both stared at her.

“Let me ask you something,” Kat said. “If Dallas had been badly hurt at work, and he was going to have scars on his face and all down his chest, would you have stopped loving him? Found him ugly? Repulsive?”

“No!” Liv said angrily. “I’m not that shallow!”

“So why not give him the same credit?” Kat said. “He’s a good man, Liv, a decent, loving man. Why not treat him like he’s one?”

Liv opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again.

“He – he really blames himself?” she asked hesitantly. “For everything that’s happened?”

“Completely,” Jim said. “And he thinks that you do, too.”

She sat down, all her fight gone. “I don’t.”

“So why not go to him and tell him that?” Jim said.

Liv looked up at them. “What if you’re wrong about him still wanting to be with me?”

Kat sat down next to her, took her hands. “Hon, your whole life has been thrown in to a blender over the past few days… so many things have changed since that asshole cut you. But we’re all still here, OK? And I
know
that Dallas feels the same way about you as he did before you were hurt.”

“How?” Liv asked. “
How
do you know?”

“Because the man has done nothing but punish himself since it happened,” Kat said quietly. “He’s lost, Liv, and he’s in torment. People don’t hurt that way about people who mean nothing at all to them.”

Liv stared at her hands.

Jim sat on her other side. “For the past week, me and the guys have tried everything we can think of to get Dallas to believe that you won’t hate him. He won’t listen to us. There’s only
one
person he’ll listen to, Liv, and she’s sitting here staring at her hands.” He brushed her hair off her face and she stiffened; she’d taken to pulling it forward to hide the long, pink line on her cheek. “I know you’ve been through hell, sweetheart… I’d do anything to go back and stop any of it from happening to you. But it
did
happen, and you’re going to have to figure out how to live with all of it.”

She blinked back tears.

“I really think that Dallas can help you with that,” he said. “I think he’d pull you through, and be there for you. All you have to do is ask him.”

“Yeah?” Liv said.

“Yeah,” Kat and Jim said together.

Liv nodded. “OK. OK, I’ll try.” She looked at Jim. “Can you drive me?”

“No problem, Liv.” He grinned. “Kat and I have a plan.”

**

Dallas opened his front door and stared in confusion at the woman with long blonde hair standing there. “Hi. Can I help you?”

She lowered the scarf covering her face and she smiled. “Hi, Dallas.”

He almost reeled backwards in shock. “Olivia,” he said. “What – what are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you,” she said. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” He stepped aside. “Let me take your coat.” He managed to get it off her body without actually touching her.

“Thank you.”

They stared at each other. Dallas’ eyes took in the bandage on her face and he winced.

Your fault, man. All yours.

Olivia saw his grimace and she felt hurt pierce her chest.

He thinks you’re so ugly, he can’t even bring himself to touch you.

She took off the blonde wig and shook out her hair. “Courtesy of Kat,” she said. “She put on a red one and Jim drove off with her just now. Just in case the press followed us, you know.”

His face tightened at the mention of the press. He’d dealt with them in the past, of course, since he’d worked with numerous celebrities and athletes as clients, and he’d always managed to be courteous and professional. But he’d never seen anything like the scrum of scum at the hospital once word got out that Olivia Jameson had been cut up by a stalker, and he’d fucking lost his mind about it.

Within twenty minutes of her telling him that he'd taken care of her and passing out, he’d seen people with cameras skulking around the hallways. Sully, Mark, Selena and Griff had shut that crap down damn fast and Mark had set up guards outside Olivia’s private room, but it was a full-time job to keep her protected.

Dallas had immediately turned his attention to and considerable anger on the fucking paparazzi. There was nothing he could do about what had happened to the woman he loved, but he sure as hell could make sure her sliced-up face and body didn’t end up splashed all over the internet and across the cover of every tabloid and rag in North America.

In a weird way, though, what had disgusted him even more than the press vultures were the offers of help. Within an hour of the news about Olivia hitting the outside world, the hospital was fielding calls from therapists, psychologists, psychics, healers, and God-only-knows-who, all offering to treat her.

Dallas was sure that Olivia would need therapy – lots of it – but he wasn’t happy that these opportunistic quacks were looking for a celebrity patient to speculate about. He’d been outraged to read that some so-called therapists were talking to the press about Olivia’s ‘body image issues’ and how hard it was going to be for a woman who’d been lauded for her beauty to be so badly scarred. One dickhead even went so far as to tell a journalist that Olivia may never be able to let a man touch her again, if her body was as damaged as he thought it was.

Thank God for Emma, though. She’d immediately gotten in touch with one of her former colleagues at the psychiatric practice, a quiet, kind woman named Dr. Francine Cabott. Francine had met with Olivia every day since the attack, and he knew that it was helping her a lot. He had no idea what they talked about, but he knew that in the past three days, Olivia had looked better.

He tried to stay calm now, knowing that his personal feelings about the press were irrelevant. “So… would you like a drink? Wine? Tea?”

“No, nothing. Thank you.”

“You want to sit down?”

“Please.”

Oh, God. We’re as stiff and polite as two strangers. Nobody would know that this man held me and kissed me and made love to me in the bedroom just a few feet away from where I’m sitting right now.

Dallas sat and looked at her, wondering if she was there to finally scream at him. He’d been waiting for this moment, and he’d thought he was ready for it. But now he wasn’t so sure.

“How have you been doing, Olivia?” he said. “With all the fall-out from today?”

She bit her lip. “You’ve been following the news?”

“Yeah.”

“So you know that Hope Perfume dropped me this morning… the last of every single company that has ever worked with me.” She tried to smile. “Seems that scarred models aren’t all the rage after all, and even with the wonders of Photoshop, nobody’s interested.”

He looked down. “Jim says that you’ve got your house up for sale now and that you’ll stay with Kat for a while longer, right?”

“Yeah.” She hesitated, then took the plunge. “But I’d rather be staying here. With you.”

“Oh, Olivia. I don’t think that’s such a good idea…”

“Dallas,” she said softly. “Dallas, look at me.”

He forced his eyes up.

“I’m going to ask you something now, and I want you to tell me the truth. After that, you’re going to ask me something, and I’m going to tell you the truth. OK?”

He nodded, puzzled.

She took a deep breath. “Are you avoiding me and not touching me because you find me repulsive?”

He started. “What? No!”

“That’s the truth?”

“The whole, complete and total fucking truth, baby.”

“OK.” She studied his tense, pale face. “Now you ask me your question.”

He hesitated.

“Go on, Dallas. Ask.”

“Do you – do you blame me for what happened? For what that sick fuck did to you in the conference room and for the end of your career?”

“No.”

“But how can you not?” he asked and she heard the despair in his voice.

“Because I only blame one person, and he’s dead. You killed him as he held a knife to my throat and whispered in my ear that he was going to slash it wide open. Greg Wallace did all of this to me, and I know he was sick and maybe one day I’ll feel pity for him… but right now, I’m angry as hell at him.
Only
at him.” Her eyes held his. “I
know
what it cost you to pick up that rifle again, babe, what you risked losing of yourself by doing that. I
know
how slim the chances were that you were going to make that shot. But you did it anyway, and you saved my life. I love you for that.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I do.” She got to her feet and came to him. She stood right in front of him, close enough for him to feel her body heat. “I love you.”

He reached for her now, pulled her down and on to his lap. She went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Dallas buried his face in her throat, inhaling her sweet scent, needing to reassure himself that she was there with him. That she needed him, and wanted him, and loved him. Dallas held her tighter, almost too tight, unable to believe what a miracle she was.

“I love you, baby,” he said. “I love you so much… please don’t ever hate me, OK?”

“Never,” she whispered. “Not ever.”

He raised his head and she gazed down at him. She smiled and he pulled her mouth to his. When their lips met, they both sighed at how
right
it felt to be together again. Dallas touched her uninjured cheek gently, and her eyes welled up at how tender those hands were on her body. Such a large, lethal man – and the care he showed her took her breath away.

She stood up and held out her hand. “Take me to your bed, Dallas.”

He took it and got to his feet, uncertain. “To… to make love? You’re not ready, are you?”

“I’m not ready, you’re right.” She ran her fingers over his chest, loving his strong, steady heartbeat. “Just hold me, OK? Let me sleep in your arms. Make me feel safe again.”

He stroked her hair back from her stunning face. “I can do that, baby.”

Olivia nodded. “I know.” She led him to the bedroom. “You’re the only person in the whole world who can.”

**

The next morning, Dallas woke up first. He held Olivia close, looked at her face in the winter morning sun, so calm and peaceful.

She’d taken the bandage off her cheek before going to sleep, and he examined the stitched wound closely. He knew that she’d have a scar, and that no matter how much it faded over time, it would always be visible.

He hadn’t seen the cuts on her chest and stomach yet; she was still working her way up to that with Francine’s help, she said. He’d told her the night before that she could show him when she was ready. He’d wait. Then he’d run his tongue over every inch of her body, worshipping it, adoring it.

When she’s ready.

But the visible scars were nothing compared to the invisible ones. She was starting her whole life over again in so many ways. Her career had exploded overnight, she was selling the house that she now hated and feared, she had lost her whole social circle and lifestyle. She was afraid, he knew, and she had nightmares about being watched secretly, about being held down and cut up. It would take time and therapy and Dallas was determined to be there through all of it. Whatever she needed.

She stirred in his arms now, made a soft sound in her throat. He kissed her eyelids and she smiled, opened them up slowly.

“Good morning,” Dallas said, his voice husky with emotion.

“Hi,” she said. “You were watching me sleep?”

“You know it.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

She searched his eyes and she saw that he was telling her the truth. Tears slid down her cheeks as the miracle of that truth just washed over her, overwhelmed her with its sweetness.

“I love you, Olivia.” He kissed her, then gently wiped the tears with his thumbs. “More than I can ever say.”

“I love you too.” Her voice broke and he pulled her closer. They lay quietly for a few minutes, just listening to each other breathe, loving the closeness and warmth between them.

“Hey,” he said suddenly. “It’s Christmas in a couple of weeks…”

She propped herself up on one arm and gazed at his handsome face. “It is indeed. You got any plans?”