Fever (11 page)

Read Fever Online

Authors: Joan Swan

BOOK: Fever
2.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Her only answer came in the
swoosh
of the plastic slides on the shower curtain rod as he closed the drape.
Alyssa stayed there, resting her head on her arm, for what seemed like endless minutes. Without any immediate threat, her adrenaline flagged. When her butt went numb and her arms tingled from lack of blood supply, she finally raised her head. Steam filled the room, creating ethereal clouds she could barely see through.
Searching for Creek behind the frosted shower curtain, she discovered him sitting on the tub floor, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, head bent.
She’d seen many a broken man in her line of work—the distraught father, the grieving husband, the heartsick son— and the man behind that curtain had all the signs of a broken man.
Alyssa stared, unable to assimilate this man with the one who had wrapped a chain around her throat. Or the one who’d killed Taz right in front of her. That one was a force to be reckoned with. This man looked overwhelmed. Vulnerable. Defeated. Her compassionate streak—the one that most of her coworkers swore she didn’t have—flared to life, urging her to give him the benefit of the doubt against all common sense and good judgment.
“Cr—” Her voice caught. At some point she needed to tell him she wasn’t the woman he thought she was. Or she needed to do something to make sure he never found out the truth. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Creek? I need to ... um ... talk to you about something.”
His head came up, eyes peering at her over the edge of his arm. “It’s Teague. My name is Teague.” His voice was soft and flat, without animosity. He lowered his head again. “And not now.”
“O-okay, but when you’re done. It’s ... important.”
No response. No movement. With no other options, Alyssa put her head back down and closed her eyes.
 
She woke to the rake of the plastic curtain rings. Her head jerked up to find Creek staring at her from the tub, a white towel wrapped low around his hips. She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear them. And when she did, the sight that met her nearly made her drool.
This was the first time she’d seen his chest bare in any substantial light, and she wasn’t disappointed. His shoulders were wide, his chest strong, his belly flat. A thin cluster of golden hair formed a vertical line down the center of his abdomen, starting just above his belly button.
Oh, yum,
was the first, involuntary thought to flit through her mind.
Amazing
, the second.
Peeking out from beneath the towel, spreading over his right hip and pelvis where his leg met his torso, a deep red streak of skin, much like a healed burn but with more style, more design, tempted her eyes. Curiosity spiked at the extent of the mark, its shape, its origin. Then about his body as a whole. How hard, how often, did a man have to work out to obtain that level of fitness?
She forced her gaze to his face, pleased when she only lingered on his chest and the dusting of dark gold hair over his pecs for ... okay, more than a moment. That’s when it registered. He looked ... different, but she couldn’t figure out exactly how. He looked ... cleaner, more human. More attractive—if that was possible. But there was something else, too. Something in his eyes, a dullness, a veil. Something flat. Distant. Pained.
He stepped out with a key in his hand and reached for the cuff holding her hand to the sink. The scent of soap drifted to her nose. He no longer smelled of sweat and blood, and as he leaned in to reach the cuff, the warmth of his body floated close. Her eyes lingered on his head. On the swastika covering his scalp, which was noticeably lighter. Confused, she brought her free hand up and ran her fingers over it. His short, soft hair prickled her skin.
Creek jerked away. “What the hell?”
Frowning, she inspected his body again, this time with attention to the other tattoos. The ones on his chest, his arms, his belly, they’d all faded. Instead of that intense black, the images had turned a strange shade of brownish-gray.
When reality dawned, she looked up at him and found his eyes averted. “They aren’t real?”
He reached down to take the other cuff off her wrist, and neither met her eyes nor answered.
“Why would you do that?” She rubbed at her wrists, which had grown raw from the chafe of metal, but her mind was still unraveling this new knot in Creek’s personality. “Why would you pretend to be something you’re not? What’s the point, anyway, if they wash off so easily?”
“It wasn’t easy. I had to scrub my skin raw. Come in here.” He straightened and walked ahead of her into the other room. “I’m going to make a phone call.”
Her mind dropped the confusion over his tattoos and refocused on the immediate problem. “Who are you calling?”
He didn’t answer. When he reached the bed, he dropped his towel without warning and reached for a pair of underwear from the bag on the floor. And the seconds between seeing him naked and seeing him step into those boxer briefs seemed to stand still.
He had the most gorgeous ass she’d ever seen. Muscle definition, shape, size, the way his body was so flawlessly proportioned, he made her mouth go dry. And that scar or birthmark or whatever it was and the way it curved around his hip, the tip of a pointed section touching high on one perfect glut, was way too intriguing.
With heat kicking up in her body, she forced herself to turn away and pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Can’t you warn me before you do that?”
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
She dropped her hand and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. He was dead wrong. He was like nothing she’d ever seen before. “Are you done? I want to talk to you.”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” he said, his voice muffled behind what Alyssa guessed was a T-shirt coming over his head, “I’m a man. I do ‘talk’ about as well as you follow directions.”
Oh, she’d noticed—the man part, at least. She took a chance and looked at him from her peripheral vision. He was dressed again in fresh jeans and a black tee. She breathed a sigh of relief, then stiffened as he picked up one of the cell phones he’d bought at Walmart.
“Wait.” She held out a hand, anxiety heating her neck and face.
“Be quite, Hannah. This call is as important to you as it is to me.” He gave her a serious look. “If you want to sleep in your own bed tomorrow night, or Luke’s bed, or ... whatever”—he waved the idea away with an irritated fling of his hand—“then keep your mouth shut.”
E
IGHT
T
eague tried to block Hannah out of his mind as he dialed. He needed total focus. But the woman seemed to inspect every inch of his body with a mix of appreciation and interest, leaving his skin tingling as if she’d touched him. Sure, she was sexy as hell. Sure, he was hornier than sin. Still that didn’t account for this level of extreme and immediate attraction. Especially after all he’d put her through. Sonofabitch, if this didn’t qualify as a clusterfuck, he didn’t know what would.
As he paced the small room, Teague chalked up the heat between them to his warped imagination, and his attraction toward her to the fact that she belonged to Luke. There had to be some subconscious temptation to take something of Luke’s the same way Luke had taken something of Teague’s.
He pushed the weak idea to the back of his mind and focused on what he had to do next. The words had all been worked out. Studied. Rehearsed. Yet now they skittered around his brain like frightened birds, banging into cage walls.
Just get it over with.
Teague dialed Luke’s cell. Hannah eased onto the desk chair, back straight, attention riveted on the phone, hands clasped between her knees.
On the third ring, his ex-best friend, ex-brother-in-law, ex-partner picked up. “Ransom.”
Teague hadn’t heard Luke’s voice in three years, yet recognized it immediately. A rush of emotion pumped through his chest: hurt, anger, betrayal, loss. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
“Ransom,” Luke repeated with a familiar irritation edging his bark.
“Luke,” Teague managed.
“You goddamned idiot!” Luke bellowed. “Did your brain turn to jerky in prison? When they catch you, you’ll be in the hole so long, you won’t see Kat until she’s eighteen.”
“If you had your way”—Teague’s voice emerged rusty and torn—“I’d never see her again. Period.”
A beat of silence passed. “Ever heard of a fucking phone? A goddamned letter? Ever think of discussing something before you go and cut your own throat?”
“Don’t insult me. We both know nothing I could have said would have gotten you to bring her to see me.”
“Prison is no place for a little girl.”
“Living without me is no way for her to live.”
Another tense moment of silence passed before Luke said, “Then why’d you call? You can’t think I’m going to let you talk to her.”
“No.” Teague’s resolve solidified with Luke’s rigid defiance. “You’re not going to let me talk to Kat. You’re not going to let me see Kat. You’re going to let me
have
Kat.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“I’m not asking for a gift, Luke. I know understanding and compassion are completely beyond you. I’m offering a trade.”
“You don’t have anything to trade. And what the hell makes you think I’d trade anything for—?”
“I have Hannah.”
The silence that followed filled Teague’s chest until he thought it would crack.
Luke finally breathed. “Holy shit.”
“You give me Kat; I give you Hannah. Simple. Easy.”
“Not simple or easy.” Something filtered through Luke’s voice. Something that sent sickness to the bottom of Teague’s gut. “You don’t have Hannah. At least you don’t have my Hannah, actually my
ex-Hannah
as of a week ago.”
Teague’s eyes darted to Hannah. Her attention was still focused on him. Eager. Anxious. Frightened.
“Don’t fuck with me, Luke. You have no idea how much I’ve been through these last few years. You could never know.”
“Just like I’ll never know what you did to neglect my sister so badly she killed herself. Just like I’ll never know what your girlfriend went through those last minutes of her life, the ones when you bashed her head in with the fireplace poker, or the ones when you poured lighter fluid on her, or the ones when her flesh burned off her body while she screamed, or—”
“Stop!” Teague blocked the images assaulting his mind and turned the conversation back to the only thing they had left in common. “Kat belongs with me and you know it. Stop being an arrogant, stubborn asshole and do the right thing for once in your sorry life.”
“I am. I’m raising my dead sister’s daughter. And I’ll continue to raise her. In case you haven’t heard from Seth in the last couple days, the judge made his final decision on custody. She’s mine. One hundred percent, full-time,
mine
.”
Pain slashed through Teague, so swift and sharp it stole his breath.
“And, just so we’re clear,” Luke continued in Teague’s silence, “I talked to Hannah about half an hour ago. She called all freaked out because some convict abducted one of her doctors at the hospital while she was at a dentist appointment.”
Teague’s heart dropped like a rock and landed in the very pit of his stomach.
“In perfect Creek-fashion,” Luke said, “you’ve fucked up again.”
Teague forced the phone away from his ear and slammed it on the hook. His hands came up, fingers scraping his scalp, over and over.
“Fuck me.”
For the first time since this whole nightmare started, Teague felt hopeless. Hollow. Gutted.
“Fuck me.”
He’d lost his leverage. He had nothing. No, worse than nothing. He now had multiple life-sentence charges hanging over his head. And, as opposed to the ones that had sent him to prison originally, these he’d actually committed.
“Fuck me!”
 
He swung toward ... the woman. Whatever the hell her name was. Advanced two steps before he stopped himself. “Who ... the fuck ...
are you
?”
“I ... I tried ... I wanted to tell you... .”
He took another step.
She cringed. “Alyssa. My name is Alyssa. Foster.”
“What were you doing in Hannah Svelt’s ultrasound room?”
“She left early for an appointment. I was trying to ... My boss told me to ...” She looked up with the light of defiance still shining in her eyes. “It’s part of my damn job. There was no one else to do it.”
“And, what, exactly, is your damned job?”
“I’m a ... doctor. A radiologist.” She lifted her chin, and infused her voice with that know-it-all edge. “And if you’d stopped for a minute to match the name with the person, you’d have known I couldn’t possibly have been Hannah
Svelt
.”
“You’re obviously some mixed heritage.” He slashed a hand at her. “I just figured ... It doesn’t matter what I figured anymore.”
He dropped his hand and rubbed his face. Now what? His plans had been gutted like a target in a prison yard brawl. But instead of anger raging inside him, the fury receded to make way for despair. His head filled with memories of Kat: her brand-new baby smell, her first smile, her first steps.
Those led to thoughts of the last time he’d seen her, six months before in the visitation room. Seth had brought her, because Luke never would. She’d winged herself into Teague’s arms and chattered nonstop. Showed him her new haircut, her new doll, her new glittery shoes. How she’d learned to write her name, how she could spell
daddy
. Then she cried when time was up and she had to leave. His last vision of her was one with fat tears wetting her red face, her arms outstretched toward him as Seth carried her away.
Teague picked up the towel on the floor and threw it at Hann—Alyssa. “Go take a shower. I need to think.”
He turned his back to hide the tears welling in his own eyes. That would make for one scary convict, crying like a baby because things didn’t go his way. Alyssa hadn’t shed one tear in the hours they’d been together. At least not one he’d seen. Surely he could be tougher than a friggin’ girl.
“I can’t get my stitches wet,” she said.
Teague picked up a roll of duct tape from a Walmart bag. He ripped a strip off and turned to her. “Lift up your shirt.”
When she complied, he plastered her bandages with the silver tape, far less gentle than he should have been. “That should get you through the shower. I’ll put fresh bandages on when you get out. I have to check the stitches anyway.”
She eyed him as if questioning his sanity, then wandered into the bathroom.
“And keep the door open,” he called after her.
She shot him a look over her shoulder, gauging his seriousness, then left the door halfway open and disappeared. The shower turned on. In the opening, Teague watched her toss her clothes over the sink. His body may have perked up at the sight, but his mind and heart both still ached, the need to hear Kat’s voice overwhelming.
He picked up the phone and punched out Seth’s number, praying Kat answered. On the fourth ring, Teague’s hope dimmed. On the fifth, Seth picked up, irritable and distracted. “Yeah, hello?”
“Seth, it’s Teague.”
“Teague, Jesus. Where are you?”
“Not important. Where’s Kat?”
“She’s asleep. It’s been the day from hell. We heard from the judge—”
“I know. I already talked to Luke.”
“Bastard.” Seth’s normally easygoing voice held a bite Teague had never heard. “What did he say?”
“Just that the judge ruled in his favor.”
“Did he tell you we weren’t granted any visitation?” Despair joined Seth’s anger. “That seeing her is at Luke’s whim? Fucking asshole. Partial custody wasn’t enough. He had to have Kat all to himself. Do you realize what this is doing to Tara? I had to give her Valium to keep her from having a nervous breakdown.”
Guilt welled from every angle. “I’m sorry, Seth. I never imagined Luke would turn on me, on us, like this.”
“Where the hell are you? Why did you break out?”
“I think that’s self-explanatory, don’t you? When does Kat go to Luke?”
“Judge gave us—” His voice broke. “Judge gave us three days to turn her over.”
So many emotions tore at Teague’s heart, chewing at his conscience. He had to put those aside for now. Use his brain. Guilt and pain wouldn’t repair Alyssa’s life. Wouldn’t take away Teague’s status of murderer. Sure as hell wouldn’t get Kat back.
And now he knew where she was, but he only had three days to grab her. He’d never get her away from Luke. But, Seth ... Tara ...
Focus on Kat.
 
“I don’t know what Luke has told you,” Teague said, “but—”
“He hasn’t told me anything. I’m not talking to the asshole.”
Teague blew out a breath. That saved him from having to explain the threat he’d made to Luke. “I need to see her, Seth.”
“What ... ? You’ve
escaped prison
, Teague.”
“We both know that once she’s with Luke, I’ll never see her again.”
“Tara won’t go for it. This is already tearing her apart—”
“Don’t tell Tara. Just take Kat for ice cream and meet me somewhere.”
“Christ, Teague, I don’t know.”
“I know what I’m asking. But this may be the last time I see her. She’s the only reason I’m still alive and we both know it.”
Another length of silence fell over the line. Finally, Seth exhaled. “I’ll have to set the house on fire to distract Tara long enough to get Kat away from her for ten minutes over the next few days. No promises.”
 
Alyssa turned off the water, pulled the towel from the rod and pressed it to her face. Every one of her cuts and scratches had bitten her again when the warm water touched them, and now her body throbbed.
Creek’s voice drifted in from the other room. She tilted her head toward the partially open door. Only one voice. A one-sided conversation she couldn’t clearly pick up. He had to be on the phone again, which seemed odd given his claim of being in this alone.
She wanted to believe he’d let her go now that he knew he’d taken the wrong woman, but he wouldn’t. She knew too much. She’d seen too much. She was a huge liability.
She took her time drying off because she dreaded putting those dirty, bloody, lousy-fitting clothes back on. But it was that or face Creek in a towel. Resigned, Alyssa reached for her clothes. Her hand landed on soft flannel. She picked up a pair of men’s pajama bottoms so new they still had fold creases. Beside them sat a crisp navy T-shirt. Her ratty clothes were gone.
Her insides softened. Dammit. She shouldn’t feel anything for him. Anything but anger, contempt, disgust. But she did.
Dammit all to hell.
She did. She felt sorry for him, embarrassed for him, lost for him, scared for him. The other things, the sexual things ... those were just too twisted to contemplate.
In the other room, his voice ceased and the television clicked on, filling the space with the direct voice of a male news anchor.
After Alyssa dressed and pulled her fingers through her hair, detangling the damp mass, she peered through the partially open door. Creek stood at the window looking out, hands pressed to the sill, shoulders hunched. The blanket from the van had been spread over the bed, and the supplies he’d purchased at Walmart were unpacked on the small table.

Other books

Adjourned by Lee Goldberg
El secreto de los Medici by Michael White
Up by Jim LaMarche
0.4 by Mike Lancaster
Mountain Rampage by Graham, Scott
El Viajero by John Twelve Hawk
RuneWarriors by James Jennewein