Tainted Mind (17 page)

“Nick.”

Beside her, Ian sat up and switched on a lamp. They both blinked in the sudden flood of light.

“I decided you could use my help,” Nick said.

“You decided not to trust me.” Vivi ran her fingers through her hair and rubbed her aching eyes. Nick was the last thing she needed right now.

“I always trusted you, Viv. I just didn't always believe in you. But I learn from my mistakes.”

“What do you want, Nick?”

“Right now? A place to crash. Tomorrow, maybe we can talk.”

“Fine, help yourself to my room. But if you call me before I call you tomorrow, you'll be dead in the water.”

She ended the call and slid back into bed. Ian looked down at her. She closed her eyes, then cracked one open when he didn't move
in to lie next to her. “He's fine, Ian. Nick's not going to do anything too dumb.”

“How is he going to get into your room and how does he even know where you're staying?”

“Nick knows all sorts of things, and believe me, we don't have to worry about how he'll get into my room.”

Ian frowned. “Okay. Do I need to worry about him? About the investigation?”

She opened both eyes and looked at Ian. Really looked at him. He
was
worried. “In what way?” She propped herself up on her elbows.

“Is he going to try to run roughshod over me? Believe me, I have no problem putting and keeping a man in his place, but this, well, it's all the legal stuff…” His voice trailed off.

Vivi lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “It does take some time to figure out how to use the system and, you're right, the legal ins and outs. But between your common sense and my experience, I don't think Nick will be able to get away with anything.”

“But he'll try?”

She gave him a rueful smile. “Nick will always try. But once he has the measure of the man, so to speak, he'll back off and play nice.”

Ian lifted a hand and traced a finger down the tip of her nose to her lips, then brushed it across them, soft and slow. Leaning down, he replaced it with his lips. “Promise?” he asked against her mouth.

She slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a proper kiss, then let him pull back as she spoke. “I'm not going to promise something I'm not certain I can deliver, but I can promise that you can count on me to see this thing through the best way we decide how.”

He studied her eyes. His chest brushed against her with his every breath. Then he reached behind him and turned the lamp back off, casting them into darkness. She felt his lips brush her neck. She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him down to her.

“Sound like a plan, MacAllister?”

She felt his smile against her lips. “Sounds like a plan, DeMarco.”

*   *   *

Even from twenty feet away, Ian sensed Vivienne's discomfort. Lingering in the hallway, he watched her reach for her dress, still on the kitchen table, and pull it over her head. Her shoulders were set and she hadn't looked at him for more than a fleeting second all morning. He had an idea of what was going on. A strong independent woman like Vivienne would feel awkward, if not embarrassed, by her breakdown the night before. It was ridiculous, but she didn't know that. Or didn't trust that he wouldn't make her feel bad about it, or use it against her.

“Will you make some coffee?” he asked from his position. She spun, startled to see him there, and after staring for a moment, gave a reluctant nod. He'd bet she was planning on leaving at the first chance. Now he'd made her stay. As he climbed into the shower, he devised a plan to make her okay with everything that had happened, everything that had been said the night before.

Dressed in his uniform, he entered the kitchen. Vivienne was standing with her back to him, cup in hand, looking out onto the backyard. She was back in the clothes she'd come in last night, shoes and all, and her hair was loose, falling well below her shoulders. His eyes skimmed her from behind.

“I was a little preoccupied last night, but how is your ankle? And the cuts?”

She looked over her shoulder, but didn't turn to face him. “The ankle is fine. It was fine after a few hours. The cuts are ugly, but don't hurt at all. Thanks for asking.”

Her tone wasn't cold but didn't hold anything personal either.

“Thanks for staying,” Ian said, approaching her. Stopping about a foot away, he saw her body tense. “I don't know if you noticed, but I didn't have any nightmares. Thanks for that.”

“Except for having a hysterical woman clinging to you.”

He had hoped to remind her that she wasn't the only one who had shared vulnerabilities last night. That she wasn't alone. But, judging by her grumbled answer, he hadn't. Truth be told, he wasn't very comfortable with his diagnosis of PTSD and was even less comfortable with the fact that he was still experiencing episodes. But if he could use it to make her feel better, he would. Too bad it hadn't worked.

He put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to turn around. When she was facing him, he slid his hands up to frame her face.

“Look at me, Vivienne,” he ordered. Her eyes went left, then right. When it became clear he wasn't going to let it go, she let out a deep sigh and met his gaze.

“You fell apart last night. You broke down, you lost it, you sobbed, and you clung to me.” He could feel her jaw clenching under his palms, but he continued, knowing she needed to hear what he had to say to her. Knowing he needed her to know how he felt. “You lost your family, Vivienne. Your family.” His voice was quiet.

She didn't relax under his hands, but there was a shadow of curiosity creeping into her eyes and so he went on. “Everything you're feeling—every ounce of anger, of sadness, of emptiness, of guilt—you're entitled to feel, Vivienne.”

Her eyes were watching his intently now. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm not going to tell the world about what happened. And you should know that when I look at you now, after last night, I still see an amazing woman. You're a professor, a cop, an ME, an FBI consultant, a psychologist. You're not weak, Vivienne, you're human.”

A single tear trickled out of her eye, slid down her cheek, and landed on his thumb. He brushed it away.

“You came from your family. They are a part of you. And knowing what I know of you, they must have been good people. People you have every right to mourn in whatever way you need to.”

Vivienne's dark eyes stared back at him. And after several heartbeats, when he was sure she believed him, he leaned in and gave her a light kiss.

“Now that that is out of way, shall we get back to work?” Ian coupled his comment with an easy smile. It did the job and she gave him a tentative one in response. He moved to pour himself a cup of coffee to go, but she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back.

“Thank you, Ian.” Her voice was soft, but strong. “Not just for doing what you just did, but for being there for me last night, for listening to me, for holding me. And, most of all, for letting me be all those things I am. For making it okay to be all those things.”

Something shifted in the range of his chest as he looked down at her. He dipped his head and gave her another kiss. And then another. And then her hands came around his neck and he let her pull him into a kiss that was anything but soft and sweet.

“God, when you kiss me like that I want to crawl inside you,” she said when they pulled apart. Everything, except one strategic part of him, went still. She must have noticed.

“Uh, was that kind of creepy?” She looked cute when she was embarrassed.

“No,” he responded, wrapping his arms around her. “But you can't say something like that and then not expect me to react.” And react he did. Not happy with sitting her on the kitchen table, he stripped her down, again, and took her back to bed, again, so he could feel every inch of her against and around him, again.

*   *   *

Having left Ian to talk to Rob about something or another, Vivi walked up the steps of The Tavern to her room. She slid the key in the lock and the door swung open, revealing Nick. Lost in thought about the night before, she'd almost forgotten about him. Wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, he lounged in one of the chairs. His dark hair was damp and his cowboy boot–clad feet were propped up on the desk.

“Hello, luv.” The smile he gave her was more knowing than friendly.

“Nick.”

They eyed each other for a long moment—Vivi feeling like she wasn't quite sure what to do with him, and Nick not bothering to hide the fact that he was taking her in. High heels, short dress, messy hair, and, she was pretty sure, a mark or two on her neck.

“Well, darling, you look well and truly—”

“Finish that sentence and you
will
regret it.” Ian said, stepping up behind her. Vivi said nothing, watching as Nick's eyes went from her to Ian and lingered there for a while.

Then Nick gave a small nod. “I was going to say ‘rested,’ darling. You look well and truly rested.”

Vivi rolled her eyes but stepped into the room. “Nick, Deputy Chief Ian MacAllister. Ian, Agent Nick Larrimore, Army Investigation Division.” Ian closed the door behind them; neither man bothered to shake hands.

“Rob doesn't have any more rooms,” Ian commented.

“I can always stay with you, luv,” Nick interjected.

“Shut up, Nick. You don't have any jurisdiction here so remember where your bread is buttered.” She didn't bother looking at him as she said this—he'd spoken only to get a rise out of Ian. Instead, she moved toward her luggage and started gathering her clothes.

“So, it looks like you're certain Jessica Akers was a victim of a serial killer,” Nick said from behind her. She assumed he was referring to the files she'd left lying on her desk. He probably knew them better than she did at this point.

“We have another body. Vivienne did the autopsy yesterday,” Ian answered as she dug through her bag looking for a clean pair of socks.

“Same method of death?” Nick asked.

“Down to the type of shackles,” Ian answered.

“Sorry about that,” Nick commiserated with Ian. “Are you going to call in the FBI?”

Vivi turned around at that and almost bumped into Ian who was standing right behind her. Startled at his closeness, she looked at him, then at Nick, who gave her a crooked grin, then back at Ian, who shrugged.

“I was admiring your backside, luv. Deputy Chief MacAllister thought maybe I shouldn't.”

Vivi's eyes went back to Ian, who looked a little embarrassed, then back again to Nick, who was grinning openly now. She sighed.

“Be nice. I'm going to take a shower and then we can head to the station to start the geographic analysis.” She gave each man a pointed look before disappearing into the bathroom. She wasn't sure about the wisdom of leaving both men in the same room unattended, but what could she do? Ian might not like Nick ogling her, but Nick was only doing it to egg him on. And, once he got over his juvenile need to needle Ian, it might be okay to have Nick on their side. He was good. Really good. And maybe removing herself from the room—removing the pawn, so to speak—would actually be a good thing. She hoped.

When Vivi re-entered the room in jeans and a lightweight sweater with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, both men were almost where she'd left them. Ian stood, leaning against the wall beside her
luggage, arms and ankles crossed. Nick was in the same chair, a file open on his lap.

“Ready?” she asked, pulling on her boots. Ian shoved away from the wall, Nick swung his feet down and unfolded his lean six-foot-two frame from the chair. “Can you gather those up?” she added to Nick, with a nod to the files. “You have yours in the car, right?” she said to Ian. He nodded.

“I haven't eaten, Viv darling. The man who runs this place gets up at some god-awful hour and I didn't have a chance to sneak out before then,” Nick complained.

Vivi looked at Ian in silent question. He smiled and nodded. “Come on,” she said, ushering everyone out of her room. “I know just the place. I'll even let you order.”

*   *   *

“I hate that man. Hasn't he ever heard of a sense of humor?” Nick demanded as they exited Frank's Café.

“Oh, I don't know,” Vivi grinned at Ian. “He has his own charm.”

“Of a snake, darling. Although, I will grant he makes good coffee,” Nick added, taking a sip.

Vivi glanced at the two men walking with her as they crossed the street. They were so different in almost every way, from looks to approach, that the case was bound to stay interesting. She was pondering how Carly, Marcus, and Wyatt would take to Nick, and he to them, when she heard a familiar voice.

“Dr. DeMarco!”

Vivi stopped so fast that Nick, still grumbling about Frank's treatment of him, bumped into her shoulder.

“Daniel?” A sinking sensation hit her stomach as she looked at the young man in front of her. And it was heightened by Ian's muttered curse behind her. It didn't take a genius to know why Kathryn's son was standing before them.

“Hi?” Daniel said. Vivi had known him for so long that, especially when he looked at her the way he was looking at her now, chagrined but hopeful, she sometimes forgot he wasn't a boy anymore.

“Vivienne,” Ian warned, as if he could change what was coming.

“What are you doing here?” she asked the young man.

“Well, I,” Daniel shuffled his feet a little bit, and in the sunlight, Vivi noticed that he had golden streaks in his blond hair, just like his mother. “I have a break in my studies and my mom mentioned you were up here working on a case. I thought maybe I could, you know, help out.”

Vivi arched a brow.

“I mean, you know, if you need it or anything.”

She sighed and looked at Ian. After a moment, he threw up his hands. “Sure, why not.” His tone was not exactly pleased, but turning down the governor's son would not be a good political move.

“Daniel Westerbrook, Deputy Chief MacAllister and Agent Nick Larrimore. Nick, Ian, this is Daniel, one of my students.” She didn't point out his parentage; Daniel wasn't the kind of kid to ride his mother's coattails and his mother wasn't the kind of woman who let him. But, on that point, Vivi thought, the less said the better.