“To keep you from barging in and exposing yourself to that slimy son of a bitch you’re married to? Damn right, I would.”
“Jeff couldn’t do anything to me while I’m surrounded by law enforcement officers.”
“Which is the only reason I didn’t come and get you sooner. I waited outside the hospital last night until I saw Jeff leave and figured you were safe. You spent most of today in the company of men with badges.
“But what happens when they pack up and go home for lack of evidence against him? You’ll have played your hand. You will have accused him. How do you think that will sit with him when he was already prepared to murder you?”
It was a valid point. Even if Jeff were now to provide an iron-clad alibi, she would never trust him or feel comfortable alone with him. Ever again. “All right, my plan is flawed. Do you have one? What do you intend to do?”
“With the rock?”
“With all of it. With what you know about Jeff. With me.”
“I don’t know yet.”
She thought of the Floyds, suffering in their hospital beds. “But you’ll stay within the law, right?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Frustrated almost to the point of tears, she said, “Tell me about Virginia.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No!”
“I want to know what you did!”
“No, you don’t!” His shout echoed off the walls of the confined space. A few seconds passed, then he said in a low voice, “Trust me. You don’t.”
His strained enunciation, his unyielding expression intimidated her. She backed away from him. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I don’t want to know.” Looking around frantically, she said, “In fact, why did I even come here with you?”
“That, I will answer.” He took measured steps toward her. “I didn’t drag you off that balcony and force you to come with me. But I would have if necessary.” He let that sink in, then took a step nearer and kept closing in until his face hovered above hers.
“If I’d had to, I would have wrapped you in bailing wire and carried you off. Because I’d rather see you shy away from me, rather see you cringing with fright and mistrust like you are now, rather see you any other way except dead.”
It wasn’t poetry, but it was profound. Her heart expanded with emotion. She reached up to touch his cheek.
But before it could make contact, he caught her wrist and held her hand away from him. When he finally let it go, he motioned down the hall and ordered gruffly, “Go to bed. Lock the door if it makes you feel safer.”
* * *
He waited.
She didn’t move.
She remained staring up at him with eyes that were calm, accepting, trusting. The opposite of what they should be.
“Okay,” he growled, “you asked for this.”
He clasped her around the waist and turned her to face the wall. He pulled her sweater over her head, then discarded her camisole in the same ungentle manner. Her bra strap fell victim to his jerky impatience. The garment fell forward from her chest. He pushed it off her, then took her hands, placed them flat against the wall, and covered them with his as he crowded in behind her.
He nipped the side of her neck with his teeth, wanting to mark her as his, damn well knowing he had no right to her, no right even to want her. “Scared?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not doing it right.”