She had no further doubts that someone watched her, someone vile and cruel.
Not Cross, no way.
This was that same teeming malevolence she'd experienced earlier by the hospital. As substantial, thick, and dark as a mudslide, it clogged the air around her.
Tensing, Gaby perceived rather than heard the chuckle as someone or something scrutinized her reaction, toying with her, testing her.
The power of it was unbelievable.
Until his strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, she almost forgot about Cross.
'What's wrong?' he demanded.
This didn't make sense. She stalked evil, not the other way around. When summoned, she had all the control. But…
Unacceptable.
Utilizing all her concentration, Gaby focused herself.
Cross took her face in his hands, speaking urgently to her. What the hell was he trying to do? She didn't have time to be coddled.
She pushed him away, and to her surprise, he allowed the distance. He even stepped back to give her room. 'What is it?' he asked again.
'Something's wrong.'
'Okay.' Taking her at her word, he turned a full circle, searching the area. He held his body in the deceptively relaxed pose of someone who knew how to kick serious ass.
Gaby blinked at that. Later, she'd muse over his quick and easy acceptance, which was something she'd only ever gotten from Father. For now, she needed to get a handle on things.
Moderating her strained breathing, keeping her thoughts calm and free, Gaby took her time scanning the area. She detected the commonplace turbulence of humans out on this muggy, electric night—but not the red-hot evil she sought…
Until she again faced Cross.
It lurked
Gotcha.
Stepping around the detective, Gaby strode determinedly toward the evil. She put her hands on the fence, ready to vault over it—and she sensed it taking flight, evading her, running from her.
Body braced to leap the fence, Gaby paused. Like a candle, once snuffed, only a wisp of smoke remained as a reminder of the flame. She wanted to follow, to hunt the malignant corruption and chase it to ground, but damn it, Cross stood there, watching her, waiting.
If she went, he'd follow. She knew that.
Damn him. Because she couldn't risk him or her secrets, she
'Fascinating,' he said, without a speck of humor. 'Now tell me what the hell is going on.'
Like hell. 'Nothing.'
'Baloney.'
Affecting her most antagonistic expression, Gaby growled, ''You calling me a liar, cop?' and figured that ought to get him out of her face.
Not the least bit intimidated, he said, 'Absolutely. The way you looked—'
A furious bolt of lightning fractured the night sky, cutting him off. Electricity snapped through the air just as a cackling clap of thunder sent a violent tremble over the ground beneath her.
In the next instant, the skies opened up to dump a deluge of icy rain. Cursing, the detective bolted for the safety of an overhang.
Gaby couldn't move.
Irrational, deep-rooted fear kept her grounded to the spot, her limbs useless, her mind a frozen quagmire. From far away came a voice. She wanted to focus on it, but she couldn't.
How long she stayed like that, Gaby didn't know. A couple of times during her life, she'd been caught in storms. It was never pleasant, but other than her lacerated pride, she always survived.
Surely, she'd survive this time, too.
An eternity later, the panic waned beneath an onslaught of fragrant warmth and obscure security.
She was… Tight.
And for that reason more than any other, Gaby refused to relax, to succumb to temptation.
She couldn't be that weak, couldn't let down her guard. Not for a single second.
So lethargic that it took major concentration, Gaby got her eyes opened and, with some confusion, studied the warm skin in front of her. A throat. A man's throat.
Oh shit. 'Cross?'
'The storm spooked you.' His hand cupped the back of her head. 'Why?'
If only she'd had her faculties about her, she'd have thought of a great rejoinder, a witty reply. But nothing felt familiar right now. She couldn't match wits with him, not like this, and so, in a toneless whisper, she said, 'I'm told my mother died from a lightning strike. It brought on her labor, killed her moments later, and I was born an orphan.'
At her admission, a great stillness fell around them. She felt something she hadn't felt often—sympathy. From Cross.
The bastard.
His big hands began coasting up and down her back, urging her closer. She had no memory of ever being touched so tenderly…
A nose nuzzled against her temple. 'I'm sorry.'
Gaby stiffened.
He said, 'Shhh. It's all right, now.'
No, it was not all right. Far from it. But what to do?
'Your food's ruined. Washed away. I forgot all about it when you went into shock on me.'
He thought she'd gone into shock? Well, good. That explanation worked better than anything she could have come up with.
Peering around, Gaby saw that they stood in the recessed doorframe of a nine-to-five business. The storm had chased everyone inside, leaving her alone with Cross on the flooding street. Illumination from other establishments shone in the windows, but didn't quite reach them.
In a quiet, lulling rhythm, the rain continued.
'I don't remember coming here,' Gaby said with accusation. Had he dragged her?
'You were pretty much out of it.' He pushed back to see her face, and as if he'd read her thoughts, he added, 'You don't weigh much.'
He kept looking at her mouth, disconcerting her. Did she have bacon left in her teeth? Anger roiled. 'You
One big shoulder lifted in a halfhearted admission. 'Yeah, so? You needed help, so I helped you. Is that so odd?'
It was fucking absurd.
While Gaby contemplated ways to kill him, he brushed wet hair away from her face, then cupped her cheek —and scared the hell out of her.
Apparently, big beautiful cops ran neck and neck with thunderstorms, as far as how they affected her yellow streak.
'Get. Off.'
'Don't panic on me again,' he soothed.
'I'm not panicking!' But she was. In a very big way. 'It's just…'
He waited, his gaze warm and filled with curiosity.
