Jaimie: Fire and Ice (The Wilde Sisters 2)

To her horror, tears spilled from her eyes. She tried choking back a sob, but it didn’t work.

“Sweetheart,” Zacharias whispered.

A second later, he’d unbuckled both their seat belts and she was in his arms.

He held her against him, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other stroking up and down her spine. She was shaking; her tears were soaking into his jacket, her little gasps were hot against his throat.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

“Don’t,” he said, “honey, don’t. Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it. Tell me. Baby, talk to me.” He clasped her face, drew back just a little, gave her no choice but to look up at him. “Please. Tell me what’s happening.”

She stared at him. She couldn’t tell him, wouldn’t tell him. Just a little while ago, she’d admitted to herself that this man was her lover, but that he was also a stranger. She couldn’t unload this on him.

“Jaimie.” Zach bent his head, brushed his lips tenderly over hers. “Trust me. Tell me why you’re crying.”

Trust him, she thought. Trust him…

“There’s a man,” she said. “His name is Young. Steven Young.”

&nb

sp; The story poured from her lips. Meeting Steven. Thinking what a nice guy he was. His growing interest in her; her trying to let him down gently once she realized that he wanted lots more from her than friendship. The unwanted gifts. The unwanted visits. Calling her by a name nobody but he used for her. And, finally, what had happened recently, right in this restaurant.

Zach felt as if a ball of ice were forming in his belly.

His brain took in what she was saying, processed it, and the instinct to protect her took over, so powerfully that it made him almost light-headed.

“He follows me,” Jaimie said. “I never see him, but I can feel his presence. I know that doesn’t make sense, but—”

“It makes a lot of sense,” Zach said grimly.

She sighed with relief.

“I was afraid you’d say it was crazy.”

Gently, he smoothed her tangled hair back from her face.

“It’s an atavistic thing, honey. A survival skill.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. You know the old saying Been there, done that?”

“At Shadow?”

Hell. He took a long breath.

“I was in the Marines. A Special Ops group. If you’re any good at all, one of the first things you learn is to give credence to your instincts.”

“Then you won’t think I’m also crazy if I tell you that—that I know that somehow, he’s been in my apartment. Sometimes, I can feel his presence. I even thought I felt it for a little while last night.”

Last night, Zach thought, if he hadn’t been sitting outside in the Prius last night…

“I know he’s been in my apartment,” she said, her voice rising. “Things were moved. Not a lot, but they were moved. He touched my panties. My bras. I could feel him there. I could—I could smell him…” She drew a long breath. “I hate him,” she said fiercely. “I hate that he can make me feel so—so helpless. I’ve never been helpless, dammit, I don’t do helpless!”

Angry tears trickled down her cheeks. Zach dug in his pocket, took out a handkerchief. Wiped her eyes. Held the handkerchief to her nose.

“Blow,” he said gently.