He was silent for a moment, then said very quietly, 'So this was why you were so sure exactly what Marlin was going to do. It wasn't just the Profilers' reports, it wasn't all the study you've done during the past seven years, all the thought you've given to it. You knew every step. Because of the dream, you knew each move to make, each move he would make.'
'Yes. But it still doesn't make any sense, does it?'
'Not just this moment, but it will sooner or later.'
'I have studied him. The Profilers had it right-he hated women who cursed, and that's why he cut out their tongues. What they couldn't have been certain about was that the women also bad-mouthed their husbands. But I knew it was true. That's why I had to be the bait-I knew exactly how to get him to come after me, I knew which buttons to push. He didn't have to doubt for a second that I was the best candidate for punishment around.
'But there was a difference that I realized just now. In my dream, when the murderer raised the knife, it wasn't the same way that Marlin raised his knife in the center of the maze in Boston. It wasn't so vicious in the dream. It was as if he-'
'As if what?'
'As if he wasn't really serious, but I knew he was and I was scared to death. I'm sorry. That doesn't make a lick of sense.'
He thought about that a moment, then said, 'But in Boston, you'd put him on the defensive. He wasn't facing a terrified, helpless woman. That could make the difference.' He tightened his arm around her again. 'Listen to me. Even if that damned dream does continue on some night in the future, even if he does stick a knife into you, you can't die. It's just a dream. You've got to believe that. As real as it seems, it still isn't. It never will be.'
She shuddered, then was quiet against him. Her hand had been fisted on his chest. He'd managed to ignore it, but now her hand was lower, nearly to his belly. His breathing speeded up.
'What do you think it all means?'
He thought about that a long time. It took him longer than usual because he was hard, his heart was pounding fast and strong, and he was having a good deal of difficulty concentrating. His brain no longer had any control. He wanted to pull that beautiful soft peach nightgown over her head and-
'I don't know. It's almost as if you have some connection with Belinda. No, that sounds like psychic nonsense. But regardless, there's got to be something there. Something that happened that you don't remember. Don't you think?'
Her hand was now a fist on his belly. 'I don't know. What could have happened? Why wouldn't I remember? I was never hurt at that time. No trauma or head wound of any kind.'
He laid his own hand over hers, pressing down until her fingers splayed over him, her palm soft and flat against his flesh. 'Just relax. Everything will be all right. I know a woman who could help take you back to what really happened. There's got to be something from seven years ago, something that triggered this, something you've blocked out that's resurfacing. Yes, if anyone can get to the bottom of this, she can. But don't worry about it anymore right now.'
'You really think she'll help us?'
'I really think so. Since this all started, I knew there was something you were keeping from me. You promise this is all of it?'
'Yes.' The terror was gone. She didn't even care that this woman he was talking about was probably a shrink. She could see him in the dull morning light, she could feel the strength of him, the deep smooth muscles, the texture of his flesh. She didn't feel anything remotely close to terror now. She felt something she didn't think she'd ever felt in her life. The feel of him beneath her palm, beneath her fingers, it made her so alive her body was thrumming with the power of it.
'Dillon?'
'Hmmm?' He didn't know if he had any more words available to him. His brain was all in his groin, need for her was raging through him, making him shake, and it took everything in him to keep control.
'I feel really warm, but warmer in some places than in others. My shoulders feel really cool, but not other parts of me, like my chest.'
She was seducing him? No, that couldn't be right. He prayed that it was, then cursed himself. He had to get out of there. He should be back in his own bedroom, with two doors closed between them. He cleared his throat. 'Talking would help, but if you can't talk, then I'll go back to my own room. That would be the smart thing to do, going back to my room this very instant would be the very smartest thing to do.'
'I know.' She sighed deeply, leaned her face into his shoulder, and lightly bit him. She then licked where she'd bitten. 'You're probably right. But I have to tell you those warmer places have gotten even warmer. Hot nearly.'
'Sherlock, stop now. This isn't good. I knew it wasn't good when I got in bed with you. Now I know it's maybe one of the stupidest things I've done in a good long while.' He thought if he moved now, he was in for seven years of bad luck, because he'd crack into a billion pieces, just like a mirror.
She pulled her hand away from beneath his. He sucked in his breath in disappointment. 'I'm sorry. Ollie told me you didn't ever get involved with your people.'
Why had Ollie told her that? He had dated Hannah before she'd joined the Unit, but then he'd called a halt when she'd come on board. Well, yeah, at least at one time Ollie had been right. Actually, until an hour ago, he would have bet the farm on it. Maybe even just ten minutes ago he would have bet a second farm on it. 'No, I don't get involved with any of my people. At least I haven't. It seems that's shot all to hell now, though. And don't say you're sorry again. If you do, I'll do something unsuave.'
'What?'
'Sherlock, I'm outta here. I'm not about to take advantage of a nightmare. You're vulnerable and afraid and I happen to be convenient. But you don't need me now. You're okay, right?'
She didn't say a word. He thought he'd been punched in the gut when he felt her tears against his chest.
'Oh damn,' he said, hauled her on top of him, and kissed her. All light, feathery kisses, and between the kisses he was
saying, 'Don't cry. I'm trying to be noble. It's a battle and I'm losing. You've got to help me with this. I want you a whole lot, but this isn't the way, surely. Actually, I want you whole again, I just said it wrong. Does that make any sense to you?'
Her palm smoothed over his thigh, upward. She said against his ear, 'That must be what it is then.'
He didn't know what she was talking about. All he was thinking about was kissing her.
'I've got to stop,' he said between another round of kisses, 'or if I don't, then I'm going to be on top of you and that nightgown is going to end up on the floor.'
She lurched away from him, taking him completely by surprise. 'Let me be plain about this,' she said, smiling down at him. He wanted to weep until he realized what she was doing. 'Let me be straightforward. I don't want you to have any doubts where I stand on this.'
He watched her pull the gown over her head and throw it across the room. She was sitting over him, naked, staring down at him, and she looked scared to death, and defiant. Yes, that was it, defiant and determined.
Oddly enough, it calmed him. He wanted to put his hands on her, but no, not just yet. 'What do you want me to do, Sherlock?'
'I want to make love with you, that is, if you'll make an exception for me.'
'I've made an exception for you since I kicked you into the bushes in Hogan's Alley. Why do you look scared to death if you're so certain about all this?'
'I'm not scared. It's just the morning light.'
'Yeah, right.' But he was more than willing to believe it.
She had lovely breasts, all high and smooth and round, just the right size for his hands, his mouth, any other part of him that wanted to touch her there. And he wanted to. He couldn't remember ever wanting anything so much in his life.
Then he remembered that he'd wanted more than anything to be an FBI agent. That sure put a crimp in things.
24
NAH. THAT WAS PURE BULLshit.
