Tainted Mind (16 page)

They were both breathing hard when their world settled again. When Ian had the strength to open his eyes, he pulled back and looked at Vivienne. Her eyes were still closed. Loose tendrils of hair were pressed against the damp skin of her face and neck. She had a red mark on her shoulder from a particularly aggressive kiss and she looked stunning.

Everything inside him shuddered and tightened. She might not have come to him out of love, but she had needed him. And though he was more than happy to have given her what she'd needed, what they'd both wanted, he wasn't going to let it end there on his back patio.

Gathering her up in his arms, Ian took a tentative step back, testing his ability to walk after such a rush. Her eyes opened, but she didn't let go. She didn't make a move to get away. More sure of his ability now, he carried her into his room. And after following Vivienne down onto the bed, stripping her of whatever she had left on, Ian started all over again.

C
HAPTER
11

VIVI ROLLED TO THE SIDE OF THE BED
and sat up. Looking over her shoulder through the window, she realized she had no idea how much time had passed. It had been dusk when she'd arrived and it was dark now, with a full moon casting shadows in Ian's room.

She scanned the floor, looking for her clothes before remembering that the only pieces she'd find in the bedroom were her underwear and shoes. Everything else was outside.

She was rising from the bed when Ian's hand shot out from under the sheet and caught her arm. She turned to find him watching her.

“Leaving?” he asked.

“Do you want me to stay?” She wanted to, but didn't want to push him. When he didn't answer, she pushed aside the disappointment and made another attempt to rise.

“Wait, Vivienne,” he said, holding onto her arm as he sat up.

“It's okay, Ian. There are a lot of reasons for me not to stay. It's fine.”

“No, it's not that.” His grip on her arm tightened for a split second and she sensed he had more to say. Something he needed to say, even if he didn't want to. She sat back down, pulled a blanket that had been cast aside around her, and waited.

The sheet fell to his waist as he sat all the way up, revealing his bare chest. Vivi would have taken a moment to admire it if the look of dismay on Ian's face hadn't grabbed her attention. He ran a hand through his mussed hair, sighed, then propped his knees up and rested his arms across them.

“I want you to stay, Vivienne. But I—” he stopped and turned away. Then with a rueful shake of his head, he continued. “I have
nightmares sometimes. They're not, well, they aren't pretty. And I haven't slept next to anyone since I started having them. I haven't slept with anyone period since I got back.” A self-deprecating smile touched his lips as he turned to face her.

His admissions, both of them, surprised her. But one was far more important than the other.

“PTSD?” It wasn't much of a guess considering how he had reacted that day up in the woods. But still, he nodded and ran a hand over his face again.

“And you're afraid you might hurt me,” she said.

He nodded again and she saw the pain and shame in his eyes.

“You won't,” she said with certainty.

“I don't know that, Vivienne.” Ian's voice was soft in the dark night hour.

“No, but I do.”

His eyes searched hers and she held his gaze, sure of her convictions. She had no idea what his nightmares were like or what they might do to him, but she knew he would never hurt her.

“Then stay.” She knew it cost him to make the offer. Not because he didn't want her there, but because she might see a part of him that wasn't strong, a part of him he saw as a failure. She didn't see PTSD that way at all, but she knew any words to that effect, any words to assure him his experiences, his nightmares, weren't his fault or a weakness of his character, would fall on deaf ears. Her trust in him, her belief in him as a man, was something that, at this point, she could only show him. And so, when he held his hand out to her, she came back down onto the bed and tucked herself in next to him.

She let him settle into his decision as she traced designs on his chest with her fingertip. When she felt his heart rate return to normal, she propped her chin on his chest.

“There is one problem though, if I stay,” Vivi sighed. Ian looked down at her and arched a brow in question. “I'm starving and you'll have to feed me.”

His chuckle rumbled under her and warmed through her.

“I think I might be able to handle that.”

Vivi grinned. “I thought you might. I should probably pick up my clothes while we're up, too.”

“Now I wouldn't waste my time on something like that.” Ian's hand slid down and patted her bare behind. “Here,” he said, jackknifing off the bed and displacing her. He tossed her one of his t-shirts. “You can wear this.”

There was something appealing about sliding into one of his shirts. The large size made her feel small and feminine. And the masculine scent reminded her of whom she was with. She rose from the bed and the shirt fell to mid-thigh, it was a bit cool and breezy, but she liked it.

Glancing up, she saw Ian watching her. He'd pulled on a pair of boxers and was leaning against the doorframe regarding her.

“It looks good on you.”

A sudden wave of shyness crept over her. She looked away as she felt herself blushing in the moonlight.

“Vivienne?”

She met his gaze again.

“I'd like for you to tell me what happened today. I'm glad you're here, and to say I'm glad you came to me would be an understatement, but something was bothering you today. Something drove you here. I'd like to know what that was.”

Vivi froze. But Ian didn't push any further. He walked toward her, gave her a soft kiss, then left. She was still standing in the middle of his bedroom when she heard him pop the microwave open in the kitchen. She could hear him pulling out dishes then opening a bottle of wine. He was giving her space. He was giving her time. And she knew, without a doubt, he would give her all the time she needed. But standing there, in his room, in his shirt, she realized she didn't need the time. He deserved to know, and whether she told him now, or weeks from now, wouldn't make it any easier. Taking a deep breath, she moved to join him in the kitchen.

Vivi walked in as Ian was setting plates of lasagna and glasses of red wine on the table. She sat down, took a healthy sip of wine, and watched him as he sat down across from her. Her dress was folded and sitting at the other end of the table.

“I don't have any greens, sorry.”

“It's ten o'clock, and given what we've been doing, I think I'm good with the carbs.”

His lips twitched and they dug in. She was glad for the casual chitchat as they ate, but when they'd finished and pushed the plates away, she knew it was time. Reaching for her wineglass, Vivi started to talk.

“This year has been, well, to put it mildly, it's been rough. Remember when I told you how many cases I'd worked in the past twelve months?”

She looked up from her wine to find Ian sitting forward, elbows propped up on the table, fingering his glass. “Over 300,” he recalled. “That's a lot.”

“It is, and I probably underestimated. But it wasn't the cases that were the problem. Not at the beginning, anyway.” She took another sip of wine and, for the first time, recognized the sound of rain on the roof. She glanced out the French doors that were open onto Ian's screened-in front porch and wondered when the clouds had moved in. Light flashed in the distance, bringing her back to the here and now.

“A year ago today, I lost my family.” Vivi's chest tightened, and for a moment she struggled to breathe. Picking up her glass, she noted with detachment that her hands were shaking.

“Vivienne?”

She brought the glass to her lips and managed to choke down another sip. “I had a brother. Special Forces. Not unlike you, I imagine. Sometimes we knew where he was, most of the time we didn't. Because of the work I do, I know a lot of people in the military. Jeff and I had an agreement that if anything were to happen to him, I would be notified as his next of kin and it would be my job to tell our parents.”

If she stopped talking, she might not start again, but she couldn't just sit there, so she stood and walked to the French doors. The cool, night air washed over her and the smell of the rain brought a measure of familiar comfort.

“I got a call from his base commander, a friend of mine. He'd gone around protocol so he could tell me that Jeff had been shot by insurgents that morning. They were still trying to figure out what had happened, but he wanted me to know about Jeff right away.”

She stared out into the night and watched lightning off in the distant sky. “That call was the worst call I have ever received.” Vivi
still remembered the gut-wrenching pain that ripped through her body and soul when she'd heard that her brother was dead. She rubbed her chest now, still feeling it.

“But I knew what I had to do. I had a friend come pick me up and drive me over to my parents’ house. I knew they were on their way back to Boston after being down at the Cape for a few days, enjoying the quiet before the summer season. Something they did every year.”

Vivi remembered sitting with her friend on her parents’ sofa waiting for them to come home. The familiar smells of their house, the comfort of being home. And they waited. And waited. Just sitting there.

“They didn't come,” she whispered.

“Vivienne.” Ian was behind her, his hands on her shoulders, easing her against him.

“We waited and waited and when we finally heard someone at the door, it was the state police. My parents had been hit by a drunk driver on their way home.”

She closed her eyes to the memories. Ian's arms came around her, but she was so lost in time, reliving that day a year ago, that she couldn't respond.

“One day. In one day I lost my entire family.” Her voice broke and tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I tell myself that at least it was a blessing my parents never knew about Jeff. At least they died believing both their children were safe.”

The rain continued as they stood where they were. Exhausted, Vivi leaned against Ian and watched the storm move across the valley. Lightning flashed in the sky, thunder shook the house, wind whipped the branches of trees. And they stayed.

When the violence of Mother Nature quieted down, Vivi finished her story. “I didn't know what to do with myself so I threw myself into work. I was on a plane every time they called. I went to Haiti, Bangladesh, Guatemala, Los Angeles, anywhere and everywhere they needed me. Anything to not be at home.

“I don't know if it was good or bad, but it gave me a reason to get up every morning.” She paused. “And then I went to Seattle.”

The rain had changed to a slow drizzle, but the runoff dripped steadily down the gutters.

“What happened in Seattle, Vivienne?”

“A family was murdered. At first it looked like the father did it—like he'd shot his daughter, his wife, and then himself. They'd all been killed by single gunshot wounds to the head.”

“Why were you called in if it was straightforward?”

“Because the father was a scientist I'd worked with in the past. His sister didn't think he could have done it, so she begged to have me come in. It was such a horrific crime in an area that doesn't experience a lot of that kind of violence. The Seattle police, some of whom I'd worked with in the past, let me in to make her happy.”

“And what did you find?”

“What I wanted to find was that she was right.” God, how she'd wanted that. “I didn't want to believe that a man could wipe out his whole family. That someone would
choose
to rid the planet of his child and life partner. After having lost my family, I would have given anything to have them back. And it seemed incomprehensible to me that anyone could feel differently.”

“And?”

“I bird-dogged that case like you wouldn't believe. I'm surprised my friends at the SPD are still talking to me. But in the end, the sister was wrong. My friend, Dr. Howard, held a pillow over his sleeping twelve-year-old daughter's face and shot her. He then proceeded to shoot his wife as she slept in their bedroom, before lying down beside her and shooting himself.

“It was—” Vivi paused and took a deep breath of the rain-cleaned air. “It was too much for me and I walked away. I flew down to LA to see my cousin Kiera, then rented a car, and just started driving. I drove from California through Arizona, Texas, Georgia—all through the South as I made my way east. I was thinking of heading into Canada when I passed through New York City and saw the sign for the Taconic Parkway,” she added.

“And then you ended up here.” Ian's cheek came to rest against her head.

“And, for a little while, I was able to forget. Not my parents or my brother, but the pain, the emptiness of it all.”

“And when it all came back this afternoon, not only did it all come back, but the guilt came too, didn't it?” Ian asked. “The guilt for having allowed yourself to forget for even a second.”

Tears filled her eyes and poured down her face as she nodded. When a choked sob escaped her, he turned her around and held her close. Vivi clung to him, buried her face against his chest, and cried. For the first time in a long time, she just cried. For her parents, for her brother, for herself. And for everything good the world lost the day they died.

C
HAPTER
12

IT WAS STILL DARK
when a ringing phone roused Vivi. Half awake and half asleep, she struggled to a sitting position and thought for a moment that it couldn't possibly be her cell. Her eyes were gritty from crying earlier, and next to her, Ian looked as confused as she felt. Then the phone rang again, and she remembered that Ian had brought her purse in from her car when they'd come back to bed. They'd lain together for a long time until she'd needed him to remind her of some of the good things in life. After that, they'd fallen asleep.

Slapping her hand on the bedside table, she located the nuisance and answered without looking at the number.

“It's three in the morning, Viv, luv. And you're not in bed. Not your bed anyway.”