Son of the Enemy (8 page)

“I will deal with the police.” There was a fierce light in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. “You won’t need to say anything. Who else was there when Ty showed up at school? Was Emerson there?” The way he said the name told her he was jealous of John’s obvious interest in her. Well, too bad. He had no claim on her.

“No, it was after four and mostly everyone had left, so it was just me and Larissa.”

“I see.” Just like that he clammed up. Hannah watched him as his brain whirred, calculating, planning his next move, figuring out how to keep Ty out of trouble.

“You can’t spend the rest of your life bailing him out,” she said.

“I don’t plan to. But he’s not going to take the fall for that bastard’s son.”

“And if the drugs did come from Ty? What then?”

“Trust me,” he said.

Ty tried the door to the art building again, but it was still just as locked as it had been half an hour ago.
Shit
. He was freezing his ass off. But he sure as hell wasn’t going home tonight. His old man would cut off his nuts, sauté them and feed them to the fucking Dobermans if he showed up.

Especially if Christian was dead.

His stomach dropped every time he thought of Christian lying there with his lips all blue and his skin all damp and pasty. Then the freak had shown up and put his mouth over Christian’s… Ty retched, but nothing came out. In the distance he heard a car and ran into the woods.

“Fucking creepy out here,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Good thing he had found this flannel shirt on the picnic table or his teeth would be chattering by now. If only he could light a fire, he could keep himself warm. He could go to the survival hut out behind the construction area, but that would be one of the first places someone would look for him. Suddenly a thought struck him and he smiled.

The old leaf hut. Duh.

Hardly anybody even remembered it, and he and Christian were the only kids still at the school who actually knew how to find it. He took off at a run through the woods behind the school and Hannah’s cottage, down a slope, slipping and sliding, to the bank of a small stream nobody knew the name of.

It took him almost half an hour to get there in the dark and several more minutes to find the hut, which they had camouflaged super well. Then he spotted the old stump and the evergreen branches sticking out from under the load of dead, soggy leaves and breathed a sigh of relief. If the lighter they’d left in a baggy was still inside, he’d be all set.

He dropped down into the hole at the side nearest the stump. It was the only entry point into the hut, which was mostly underground except for where the ground sloped down toward the stream. Another hole in the center served as a chimney. He stood beneath it now, his head clearing the roof by a few inches, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness so he could find the wood and matches. It was freezing inside, but once he got the fire going it would be toasty.

A slight movement at the far end of the hut gripped his gut and twisted it. What the hell was it? An animal? Jesus, he hoped it wasn’t a bear or something. The quiet voice that pierced the silence was more terrifying than anything he could have imagined.

“Hello again,” it said.

Chapter Six

Hannah shivered and pulled her coat closer around her. It would have made a lot more sense to have the cab drop her at her door, but she had wanted to take a look around the school, just in case Ty was holing up someplace. At least she had retrieved her coat from her office. There was talk of an overnight frost, and she always liked to bundle up for that early trek across the soccer field in the morning. Right now the distance across the field seemed unnaturally elongated, the darkness more menacing, the wind blowing through her coat icier, as though her fear for Christian’s life had somehow altered the fabric of her reality.

“Oh God, don’t let him die,” she whispered into the night. “Please, please, don’t let him die.”

By the time she’d left the hospital at ten thirty, all the doctors would tell her was that the coke Christian had snorted contained methamphetamine but no other detectable additives and that he appeared to have ingested a large quantity in a short amount of time. So much for his promise to her. She shook her head at her naiveté. John had been right—the boy was a master manipulator. And she hadn’t been firm enough. If she had called an ambulance, or even the police, that day she found him passed out in the art room, he might not be hanging on by a thread in that hospital tonight.

A low branch slapped her cheek as she made her way through the trees to her cottage, but she barely felt the sting. She spotted the flowers immediately—yellow roses this time, propped up beside the doorframe. She stooped and picked them up, then inserted her key into the lock and stepped inside. And shrieked.

“I can’t believe you don’t lock your door,” John said from the couch.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shouted, more from fear and embarrassment than in anger. “Coming into my house when I’m not here?”

“Waiting for you. And why the hell didn’t you have the cab drop you at your door?”

She flipped on a lamp and saw the anger on his face. He had his nerve. “Well, I don’t appreciate you letting yourself in like you own the place. Not to mention that you scared me half to death.”

He motioned toward the flowers hanging from her hand. “Your secret admirer left those for you. Did you see the note? I stuffed it back in the bouquet.”

“You read it?”

“Yeah. It says,
I’m here for you, my Lovely
.”

She thwacked the flowers onto the lamp stand and unbuttoned her coat. “I don’t know which is creepier, the flowers or you.”

“Yeah, well, it could have been some weirdo waiting in here for you instead of me. Think about that the next time you go out and leave your house wide open.”

She came around the couch and tossed her coat onto her recliner. “I always lock my door.” Had she actually forgotten this morning? “And besides, there’s nothing in here worth stealing.”

John stood, eyes blazing. “Christ, you’re naïve. Fine, I’m sorry I walked in, okay? I saw the flowers sitting there, and I figured if someone was waiting in here for you, I’d jump him before he could jump you.”

She knew she should just be grateful and stop bitching at him, but some perverse instinct drove her to keep it up. “What’s with this knight-in-shining-armor crap? Roughing up Bill Smythe because he insulted me? I don’t recall asking you to guard my honor, John. I’ve taken care of myself for a long time, and I don’t need some man I barely know to come rushing—”

He held his palm up in front of her face. “Okay, enough with the feminist bullshit,” he said, his tone harsh and impatient. “I mistakenly thought you’d rather not be raped or killed when you got home tonight, but obviously I was wrong, so I’ll just leave.” He pushed past her, heading toward the door, then cursed and came back to snag his jacket off the couch in one angry motion.

She’d pushed him too far. “John, wait.”

“For what?” He was trying and failing to slip his jacket on he was so angry.

“For me to tell you I’m sorry.” She wrapped an arm around her waist, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “God, I can be such a bitch sometimes.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to disagree with that.”

“I don’t. I was upset and then the walk over here was so dark… I guess I was taking my fear and frustration on you, and that’s not fair. So I’m sorry.” She looked up at him. “I was never so happy to see anyone as when you walked into that ER tonight.”

He blew out a long breath and looked down at the floor. “Any change in Christian’s condition?”

She shook her head and hugged herself, as she’d been doing a lot in the past several hours. “You were right about Christian. If I hadn’t been so hell-bent on protecting him, he wouldn’t be in that hospital right now.” She turned to the cold hearth. “Ironic, isn’t it? Here I am, bitching at you for protecting me. Arthur always said there’s a point at which protection becomes enabling. I obviously crossed that line with Christian.”

“Don’t even think about blaming yourself for this.” He had come up behind her, and she could smell the leather and the peppermint. She remembered how badly she had wanted his arms around her at the hospital. God knew, she wanted them around her now. But even if she could justify crossing that line, she was too proud to ask.

And then his arms came around her, his cheek, scratchy with whiskers, rubbed against hers, and she hesitated for about one second before allowing herself to sink back against him.

“Hannah?”

She braced herself to refuse him once again, knowing it would take all her willpower. “Hmm?”

“You can be a royal pain in the ass sometimes.”

She smiled. “Takes one to know one.”

They stood like that for several moments. John’s arms were around her, and Hannah felt a sense of contentment she hadn’t felt in a very long time. But it wasn’t long before the feel of those strong arms around her made her nipples harden and the soft place between her thighs grow hot and moist. John nuzzled her neck through her hair, and she struggled not to cry out from the erotic charge that shot through her body. She couldn’t contain the soft gasp that escaped from her chest or the tightening of her fingers on his arms. He responded with a groan of longing.

All she had to do was say the word, and she would have John’s big, hard body all over her. Inside of her. She pushed away the image with difficulty. “A fire would be nice,” she said. “And some of that coffee we never got.”

Behind her, John expelled a long breath, kissed the top of her head and eased his arms from around her. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m pretty damn warm as it is.”

She fixed them both decaf coffee while he brought in logs from the porch and got a blaze going. He was squatting in front of the fire with his back to her when he said, “Is it Bradshaw? Are you serious about him?”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. After all, she had been seeing Thornton exclusively for the past several months, and she owed him some loyalty. “If you’re asking whether we’re engaged, the answer is no.”

He let out a long breath. “Well, that’s something. Are you planning to get engaged?”

“No. I don’t think I’m cut out for marriage.” Or being in love. Was that what was going on here? Was she worried she’d fall in love with John if she let him make love to her?

“Maybe the right guy hasn’t come along.”

“Or maybe he has but I just wasn’t interested.”

“Ever lived with anyone?”

She sighed. He might as well know the truth. “The only men I’ve ever lived with have been shrinks. One clinical psychologist and one psychiatrist, who had actually been my therapist for a short while. What does that tell you about me?”

He stood and brushed the wood dust off his jeans, then sat beside her on the couch and took a sip of his coffee. He waited to speak until she was looking at him. “It tells me you were desperate for a father figure who cared for you and offered you the acceptance and understanding you were deprived of after your mother died.”

“I had Arthur for that. And they weren’t old enough to be my father.”

“You lived with shrinks, so you know all about transference. It didn’t matter how old they were, or even if they were men. And by the way, if you were trying to shock me, it didn’t work.”

“Oh, right,” she said, shaken by his matter-of-fact reaction. “Tell me you don’t think it’s a little…let’s say,
unusual
to hook up with men who knew me too well to really—” She stopped.

“To really what?”

“Obviously, they knew I was a head case,” she said, unwilling to say it out loud.

“To really what?” he persisted. “To really love you?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

He took the mug out of her hands and set it down, then gripped her shoulders so they were face-to-face. “That’s it, isn’t it? You figure if someone probes deep enough into your psyche to know who you really are they couldn’t possibly love you. Being loved is somehow threatening. Maybe because you’d be obliged to return the favor?”

She pushed away from him. “Those relationships were about sex, not love. Just like they all are. And I’m really tired, so I think—”

He drew her to him and wrapped his arms around her. “Then why aren’t we naked in your bed right now?” he asked, hooking a leg around her hip and pulling her on top of him.

“Do you have a constant hard-on?” she murmured, feeling the wetness between her legs, wanting him, but so afraid of what she was feeling.

“Only when I’m with you.”

Yeah, right.
“We’ve known each other for ten days.”

“So what? I was attracted to you the second I laid eyes on you.”

Those quiet words did as much to weaken her resolve as the explosive chemistry between them. She pushed herself up and off him before she gave in. With a frustrated sigh, he sat up and pulled her in beside him. She didn’t fight it.

“It takes me a long time to trust someone, enough,” she said. “A byproduct of my damaged psyche, I guess. And I’ve already told you more about my past than I’ve told anyone, outside of therapy.”

“Then I’m flattered.” He reached over and wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger in a gesture that felt more intimate than a kiss. “How do I win your trust, Hannah? I’ll do anything.”

“Just give me time. And be honest with me. That’s the main thing. I’ll be honest with you too, I promise.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said.

“How did you get in here?” Ty asked. He sounded like a little mouse.

“Same way you did,” the voice said.

Ty still couldn’t move. “What do you want?”

“Shelter. Just like you, it would seem. Did you run away from home?”

“No. I’m just… I don’t want to go home tonight.” Now his teeth really were chattering.

“Is your friend all right? I got him to breathe, you know. Otherwise he would have died right there.”

Ty relaxed marginally. So the freak had actually saved Christian’s life. “He was alive when the ambulance came?”