Skin Tight (19 page)

But that wasn’t all that drew her eye. In the nearly empty lot, she spotted the silver Infiniti G37. Hands shaking and sticky on the wheel, Mia turned into the lot. If she was wrong, it wouldn’t be the most embarrassing mistake of her life. As she drove past, she checked the license plate. Her stellar memory for numbers permitted her to identify his vehicle, no question, no doubt.

She stashed her car alongside a giant SUV. Much as she hated those vehicles, the size offered some concealment, as she hadn’t yet decided what she meant to do if he was here. Maybe she would just uncover his secrets and slip away. She could always use the info later.

After checking her reflection in the rearview mirror, she rummaged in her bag for a little lipstick and a comb for her tousled hair. That was the best she could do, so Mia climbed out of the car.
Deep breath. Show time.
Striding toward the white stone building, she had to admit she was worried about how he might react to her invasion of his privacy. Then again, he
had
turned her over to his enemies to buy time. On the karmic scale, he owed her this much at least. An apology could only take them so far.

Inside, it was cool and hushed. A woman in white sat at the front desk, monitoring some medical equipment. She was somewhere in her midthirties, pretty without being ostentatious. Though the lounge area was richly appointed in jewel tones, it couldn’t conceal the true nature of the place. The walls and floors were hospital issue.

This wasn’t what Mia had expected at all. Nonetheless, she was committed, so she strode toward the visitor’s station, wearing a confident smile. “Good morning. I’m supposed to meet my boyfriend. He probably arrived recently.”

Don’t ask his name.
She had no idea which of a thousand aliases he might have used or who he was visiting.

But the nurse’s face fell a little. “Oh, you’re his girlfriend? He’s never brought anyone before, but . . . good for you. He’s a keeper. So devoted.” She pitched her voice low, as if confiding a secret. “He never misses a visit, you know, rain or shine. And it’s such a shame: both his mother and his daughter being here. I don’t know how he bears it.”

Her insides turned to ice.
Holy—

Mia made herself smile, acknowledging the saintly qualities of the man she was fucking—and didn’t know at all. Of all possibilities, she’d never imagined anything like this. God, he was going to be livid. Maybe she should go.

“It’s tough,” she agreed. “Remind me of their room numbers?”

The nurse complied, not even needing to check the computer. “He usually visits his mom first, so if you hurry you can catch him there. Otherwise, he’ll be in his daughter’s room. Did you know her mother?” Her blue eyes invited gossip; it was obvious the woman was more than half in love with the man who came every Saturday morning, rain or shine.

His daughter. And she lived in a place like this. However luxurious, there was no escaping the reality of it. Whatever was wrong with her, it was so severe he couldn’t take care of her at home. Her heart felt like it had caught fire in her chest.

“No. I don’t.”

“I assume she’s passed on,” the nurse—Debbie, her name tag read—continued. “He doesn’t even have a pale place on his finger. So it’s been a while I think.” Her pause suggested she’d like it a lot if Mia filled in the gaps for her.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t.

The sensible thing would be to slip out. But if he visited his mother first, that meant she could see his little girl, at least glance through the doorway. She didn’t want to bother an ailing child, but she felt sick with the need to understand what drove him.

She gave a noncommittal smile. “Do I need a guest pass?”

Stifling a disappointed sigh, Debbie answered, “Yes, I’ll need your ID, please. You can retrieve it when you leave the facility.”

When she handed it over, she was committed to the pretense. Mia hung the badge around her neck and followed the woman’s directions. Apparently, the two patients occupied separate wings. She went right at the T, following Debbie’s directions.

The quiet was eerie, and she recognized the rasp of respirators. Was everyone in this section on life support? She ached for him.

At last, she came to room 158. Alexis Winter. Was that his last name? Winter? The bed wasn’t visible to passing strangers, so before she could think better of it, she stepped through the door. She was prepared with an excuse if the kid questioned her, but the minute she saw her, Mia knew that wouldn’t happen.

God, she was beautiful—the ultimate sleeping princess. She had his light brown hair, but it curled against her pale cheeks. A glance at the chart told her Alexis was twelve years old, but her growth must’ve stopped after—whatever rendered her comatose. Because she looked no older than six.

Mia turned to go, wishing she hadn’t come. Had she
really
thought he was going straight from her bed to another woman? He wasn’t the type. She drew up short, every muscle locking as the shadow fell across the threshold seconds before Søren appeared.

“What are you doing here?” he growled.

 

 

Mia put up
a hand, as if to ward him off. He didn’t lay hands on her because he might kill her. He
should
kill her. Nobody knew about Lexie. It had to be that way.

Not least of all, he felt the awful burn of inadequacy. He could spot a tail for two miles, and yet he hadn’t known she was following him? Inexcusable. Unacceptable. Loss of vigilance would ruin all his plans. He couldn’t afford to get sloppy. And now she’d compromised everything.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

It wasn’t what she said, but rather how she said it. As if she cared. It ran him through like a pike.

“Come on,” he bit out.

She did step into the hall, but she planted her feet there. “I’m not going anywhere with you while you’re in this mood. Why don’t you have your visit with her and then meet me for breakfast? I think we have some talking to do.”

Talking wasn’t what he had in mind, but he guessed she knew that. Which was why she was insisting on a public place. He’d said it before—clever girl.

Teeth clenched too tightly to speak, he jerked his head in answer.

“Can you recommend anywhere nearby?”

With effort, he reined his temper. “Nina’s Country Kitchen. It’s three miles away, straight into town. You can’t miss it.”

Not awaiting her reply, he went back into Lexie’s room. Pointedly, he closed the door behind him. Damn her. And damn him for being stupid enough to let her blindside him.

A garrote in the dark offered a permanent solution, but he didn’t know if he could end her. He’d killed before, but his target had never been a woman who’d shared his bed. Crossing that line would turn him into a monster, less than human. Most days, he might say he’d passed that point already.

What the hell.
It didn’t matter. Nothing did, nothing but revenge. He wouldn’t think about Mia right now. It wasn’t fair to Lexie.

Søren sank down into the chair beside the bed and took her hand. He’d often wished she would squeeze his fingers or give some sign she heard him, but there was nothing. The doctors had recommended taking her off life support; they gave no hope she would ever awaken—and even if she did, she had lost too much ever to live a normal life.

Massive brain damage.

Her hair had grown back, years ago. She looked like the little girl he’d lost now. Except she was empty.

He knew he should sign the papers, but if he did, he’d be alone. There wouldn’t be anyone who remembered him. Selfish, but he’d never claimed to be otherwise. Søren leaned his head against the bed beside her leg. The tears had long since frozen inside him, and now he was cold to the bone, burning like dry ice.

“I can’t let you go,” he told her quietly. “Not yet. But the time is coming,
min skat
. I’m almost to the end of the last act—and just before I go, I’ll set you free. We’ll be together then, I promise. And please . . .” His voice broke. “Know how sorry I am.”

He rarely spoke to her like this, instead preferring to pretend she could hear him—that she might answer. Usually, he told her about the newest Disney movies and Miley Cyrus, things he imagined she’d care about if she still lived in his world instead of one made of moonlight and dreams.

“Not for you being born. I’ll never be sorry for that. You were—are—the best and brightest part of me. But for what I permitted to happen to you? Oh, Lexie-love, I’ll never stop suffering for that.”

Søren kissed her cheek and pushed to his feet. The beep of the machines gave the only reply. Aching as if he’d been beaten, he opened the door and stepped into the hall. Quick strides carried him past the front desk. Debbie didn’t think he noticed the way she watched him, but it would be impossible not to. He paid her no more attention this time as he departed. He knew she thought him a tragic, romantic figure, but there was nothing romantic about loss.

Grief broke some people. Some, it forged into a glittering weapon. He’d never dreamt the depth of his own determination, until they took everything he had away. And now he lived to make the guilty pay.

If Mia Sauter thought to stand in his way, well. Right now, he wanted to choke her with his bare hands. He slammed into the G37 and drove with a lead foot to the café. He’d eaten there often. Before he saw his daughter, he couldn’t stomach the thought of food, so most Saturdays he grabbed brunch at Nina’s. It was warm and inviting, done in country blue, and nobody bothered him, either.

She was waiting for him at a booth near the back, by the restrooms. From the remains on the table, it seemed she’d already eaten and was nursing her coffee. Søren blew past the hostess and sat down across from Mia, with fury streaming in his veins like raw lightning.

Her hands curled around the pale ceramic of her cup, as if in response to his expression, but she wasn’t a coward. She squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze. “What I’ve done is indefensible. If you’d wanted me to know, you would’ve told me.”

Took the words right out of my mouth, lady.
Damn her for leaving him unable to rail at her. The waitress bustled up. She’d served him before, and she seemed delighted to see he had company.

“The usual, hon?”

Surprise flashed across Mia’s face and that irritated him, too. Did she think he never ate? That he lived on fire and vengeance? Righteous fury could only take a man so far.

“That would be great. Thanks.”

In answer, the waitress produced a mug and filled it with coffee. Soon, he’d receive a heaping plate from the kitchen, covered in eggs, hash browns, pancakes, bacon, and sausage. And he’d need a snack in a few hours. If she spent any time with him, Mia would soon learn he ate enough for four linebackers.

By the time Gladys cleared off, the flames had settled in his head somewhat. At least, he no longer wanted to drag Mia out by her hair and strangle her. Honesty prompted him to admit, silently anyway, that part of his rage came from feeling bested. He’d let his guard down, and the results could’ve been disastrous. What if it hadn’t been Mia? What if it had been the Foundation goons? Horror spiked through him. He couldn’t afford to relax.

“So now you know,” he said tonelessly. “What are you going to do about it?”

She was too clever; he’d said that all along. But he’d give her a chance to do the right thing; her answer would decide her fate. God knew, he didn’t want to kill her, but if he had to choose between justice for Lexie and Mia Sauter, there was no choice at all.

“I’m going to help you, of course. I understand everything now.”

He froze. That wasn’t possible . . . was it?

“Oh?”

“I’ve got the big picture. Serrano invested in Micor. Using him as my common link, I did some checking, using my trusty iPhone . . . and everyone who initially invested in that consortium is now deceased.” Her eyes were bright and hard as obsidian. “In some cases, they were unusual and painful deaths. That’s what you’ve been doing. Going Punisher on their asses.”

Søren neither confirmed nor denied. He raised a brow. “An interesting theory.”

The waitress brought his food, so he began to eat. If he put it off any longer, he’d get the shakes. He kept his gaze on Mia, who looked gorgeous, tousled, and thoughtful. She took a sip of her coffee, and despite his lingering anger, he found himself watching her lips on the rim of the mug.

“Micor conducts illegal experiments on human beings,” she went on. “And you’re determined to stop them. I’m speculating now, but I believe they took your daughter. Maybe they took you as well. It would explain your weird . . . ability. Whatever they did to her, it broke something in her, and—”

“You’re dangerous.” He wanted her to believe she was right.

But she was uncomfortably close now.
For God’s sake, Mia, dig no more. Be satisfied with what you know.
It would kill him if she found out the truth—that
he
was to blame for what had happened to Lexie. Punishing those indirectly responsible had become his sole purpose for living, an obsession that permitted him to retain a sliver of sanity.

“I won’t ask how you got away . . . or why you didn’t destroy the facility before you ran.” She studied him too closely for comfort. “You were probably weak. Frightened. You just wanted to save your little girl. You weren’t thinking of revenge until you realized . . .”

Søren permitted himself a cold smile. “That she would never awaken?”

The compassion in her dark eyes was going to kill him. “Yes. Anyway, I’m
so
sorry. For everything. But you must know—I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you get the evidence you need to stop them.” She hesitated, laying her hand over his. “I’m glad you’ve realized you can’t just execute everyone involved.”

She was so close to the truth—and yet so far from the reality of him. His intentions would horrify her; she wouldn’t touch him if she knew. “I appreciate that.”