'God, yes.' He turned out the light. He gathered her up and car¬ried her to the bed. 'Never again. You can forget it.'
'No, I can't.' She tried to keep from slurring. 'It's there waiting for me. All you had to do was probe now and then, and it all came back…'
'Yes, that's all I had to do.'
He sounded bitter. She should try to think why-No, it was too hard. She had barely been aware of him in the past hours. He had only been a voice guiding her, questioning her, making her pause when she wanted to run ahead. At first she had ha^ed that voice, but then it had become part of her. Strange…
He was laying her down on the bed, covering her with the blan¬ket. Then he was lying down beside her and drawing her into his arms. 'Go to sleep. I'll stay with you. There won't be any nightmares tonight. I'll guard you. God knows, it's the least I can do.'
That bitterness again. Yes, keep the nightmares away. She was too weak to do it herself tonight. 'Thank you.' She closed her eyes and curled closer to him. 'I'm very tired…'
'You're practically shell-shocked.' His words were muffled in her hair. 'I know while you're hating me you won't believe this, but I'm… sorry.'
'I believe you.' She opened her eyes to look at him. 'And I don't hate you. Why should I? It had to be done before we could move on.'
'And I was the one to do it.' His lips twisted. 'I seem to be des¬tined to be a catalyst, don't I? First, Irana, now you.'
'I couldn't blame you when all of this is about me.'
'No. This is all about Staunton.' He stroked her hair away from her face. 'And you're telling me you didn't hate me even for a moment while we were going through that hell?'
'At first, I-but then you became part of it.'
'What?'
She tried to put her thoughts together. 'Part of it. Part of me. I wasn't alone any longer. We were together.' She couldn't hold her eyes open any longer. 'It was a terrible thing going through that horror alone. But I wasn't alone this time. It was as if you were going through it with me, standing beside me.'
'I was. I will be.'
'So I couldn't hate you…' She had a sudden thought. 'Did I say anything that we can use?' 'Yes, a couple things.'
'Then it wasn't for nothing.'
'No. I'd cut my throat if I thought it was.' He brushed his lips across her forehead. 'Go to sleep.'
She was already dozing off. 'I'm sorry about your friend, Karif. I didn't tell you, did I?' she whispered. 'I know how it is to lose-'
'I know you do. Go to sleep.'
'I just wanted to tell you…'
EMILY'S BREATHING WAS DEEP and steady, and she was curled against him like a little girl with a teddy bear.
Only he wasn't a teddy bear, and Garrett had spent the last hour making her go through hell. It was no wonder that she had practically fallen unconscious when it was over.
You were part of it. Part of me.
She was right, he had been there. With every word she spoke, he had been drawn deeper into the ugly morass she had undergone. He had felt her fear and her rage and helplessness.
And her hatred for Staunton.
Only now it was his hatred.
GARRETT WAS STILL IN THE bed beside her when Emily woke up the next morning. He was lying on his back, his arm beneath his head, staring absently at the wall across the room.
He glanced sideways at her as she stirred. 'Awake?' He rolled over on his side and looked down at her. 'Are you okay?'
She had been a moment ago, but she was suddenly uncertain. He was too close. Dark eyes gazing down at her, the sensual curve of his lips, the high cheekbones that made her want to reach out and touch.
What was wrong with her? She felt as if she couldn't breathe. She could feel the warmth of his body, and her own body was tingling. She could feel the heat in her cheeks.
'Oh, yes,' he said softly. His eyes were narrowed on her face. 'You're more than okay.' He reached out and lightly touched the hol¬low of her throat with his fingers.
She felt her pulse leap beneath his touch. 'I'm… fine.'
He stared down at her for an instant. Then he took his hand away and glanced away from her. 'Good. It's time we got moving. We have a plane to catch.' He sat up in bed and swung his legs to the floor. 'We may not have time for breakfast here. We'll catch something at the airport.'
His briskness robbed the moment of any hint of the former inti¬macy, she realized, with a bewildering mixture of relief and disappoint¬ment. 'You said I had to be as incognito as I was able to be. Getting on a plane and flashing ID is hardly in line with that.'
'It is, if the ID is right,' he said. 'I had Dardon working on getting you a phony passport from the day I took you to Irana. When all hell broke loose, I grabbed it before I went to get you. You're Sandra Mar¬tinez. The picture in it vaguely resembles you but the hair is dark, and so is the complexion. Pull your hair back from your face in a knot. We'll stop on the way to the airport at a theatrical supply stote and pick up a dark wig and makeup.'
'Did you have to get a phony passport, too?'
He smiled and shook his head. 'I have a few I keep on hand.' He headed for the door. 'Even though I'm retired, old habits die hard.'
'Garrett.'
He stopped to look back at her.
She moistened her lips. 'Thank you,' she said awkwardly. 'I would have been all right. You didn't have to stay with me last night.'
'Yes, I did.' His lips twisted in a wry smile. 'I'd like to say it was my pleasure, but it wasn't. I'm not used to sleeping with women without the usual sexual gratification. It's damn hard for me.' He chuckled.
'Literally.' Then his smile faded. 'But it was worth it. I needed to do something positive, to give you something, to make up for last night. So I watched over you and kept the monsters at bay. I didn't slay the dragon, but that will come.' He opened the door. 'Can you be ready in forty minutes?' 'Yes.'
'I'll see you then.'
She got out of bed as soon as the door closed behind him. She had thought that she would feel nervous and distraught after last night, but it wasn't happening. The memories had been agonizingly painful, but she had gotten through them and survived. They had gotten through them, and she felt stronger for it. She had been telling the truth when she had told Garrett that she had felt as if he had become part of her. It had been strange. First he'd been like a hovering shadow, then closer to her, then merging. Strange and… comforting.
Comforting wasn't a word that usually applied to Garrett. He was smart, sophisticated, dangerous, and complex. Yet there had been mo¬ments when she had felt safer with him than with anyone she had ever known.
And there were moments like the one when she had first opened her eyes this morning and felt as unsure and wide-eyed as she had been as a young girl. Well, she would have to accept both sides of her feelings for Garrett until she could come to terms with them.
She shrugged and moved toward the bathroom. All this soul-searching about Garrett wasn't doing her any good. It wasn't how she felt about him that was important. It was how he could help her find and kill Staunton.
And the man who hired that son of a bitch. She still had trouble focusing on anyone but Staunton. She needed a name, a face.
But she had another name now. Nicholas Zelov. The descendant of the man who had manipulated Rasputin and the royal family. Nicholas Zelov, who had visited Moscow only five months ago.
Nicholas Zelov, the man who might lead them to Staunton.
'VERY EXOTIC,' GARRETT SAID, tilting his head to look at her as she came out of the theatrical supply house.
