death was one thing, torture quite another.
She warmed her hands over the flames, then picked up her cup. The tea had already cooled, so she drifted back into the kitchen to put the kettle on again. Waiting for the water to boil, she returned to the window, anxious and vigilant.
It wasn’t just her imagination and it wasn’t just the strange situation she found herself in. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it. The unpleasant sensation that nested in the hollow of her chest seemed to grow and tighten with each breath she drew.
So engrossed was she in trying to analyze her trepidation that she didn’t hear the creak of the bed or the soft footfalls that stopped at the open doorway. She never heard a thing, but something alerted her to his presence. A premonition or some imperceptible shift in the air currents. Or that voice in her head maybe. Something …
She turned and there he stood.
As naked as the day he was born.
The candles and fire had burned down so that a soft, flickering glow illuminated the room. He was mostly in shadows, but nothing was left to Claudia’s imagination.
She caught her breath at the sheer symmetry of his form. He was all lean muscle and intriguing angles.
As their gazes met across the murky room, she felt something fiery shoot through her midsection, like a crumbling meteorite streaking its way toward earth. The collision was inevitable, and yet she couldn’t look away. For a moment, she had the crazy urge to rush toward it with arms wide open.
She even took a step toward him and then thankfully good sense prevailed. “Is something wrong?” she asked on a shaky breath.
He said nothing.
She frowned at his unblinking stare. “Are you okay?” A longer silence.
He was starting to make her even more nervous. “I know you can speak,” she said. “I heard you talk in your sleep.”
And then it hit her that he had freed himself. Terror curled in her stomach as she realized just how vulnerable she now was.
Don’t panic. Keep a cool head.
What she needed to do was arm herself as quickly and unobtrusively as she could. The gun was on her desk, just to the left of the front door. She needed to somehow get to it without setting off any alarms.
“The weapon won’t help you,” he said.
Claudia froze. “What?”
“You’re going to die,” he said ominously. “And there will be nothing you can do to stop it.”
Chapter Seven
Claudia lunged for the gun, grasped the grip in both hands and whirled to face him. “Don’t move! I’ll shoot. That I promise you.”
He hadn’t set foot outside the bedroom doorway, and now he gazed at her in bewilderment. “I’m not here to hurt you. I came to save you.”
“Save me?”
Dear God, could that be true? Had someone really sent him here to protect her?
But who? Not even her closest friends knew where she’d run off to or why. She hadn’t even clued in the police.
And why now, after two years of being on her own?
It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this whole crazy situation made any sense, especially her reaction to him. She was afraid and fascinated all at the same time.
And against her better judgment, she felt a welling hope nudge away her suspicion. But only for a moment.
Then her defenses came back up, and she steeled her spine and tightened her grip on the revolver.
Be careful here. Remember your motto: trust no one.
Thankfully, her good sense and natural skepticism came rushing back full force. Maybe he was just trying to catch her off guard. Why he hadn’t attacked her when her back was to him, she had no idea. Obviously, his agenda included more than just murder.
You’re going to die and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.
Her chin shot up. We’ll just see about that.
She wouldn’t go quietly. That was for damn sure.
Still, she prayed it wouldn’t come to that. But if he meant her harm, the gun was her best defense. She just hoped he couldn’t see how badly her hands trembled. She was shaking so hard she didn’t dare put a finger on the trigger. Never put a finger on the trigger unless you’re prepared to shoot. She wasn’t. Not until he made the first move. Then she would blast away. Not without regret, but certainly without hesitation.
She clutched the grip. “Who are you?”
“My name is … Jack Maddox.”
The way he paused before he revealed his name reinforced her suspicions. He’d probably pulled that name out of thin air. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“Who sent you here?”
“… sent me?” He touched fingertips to his temples and pressed. “I … don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” “I don’t … know.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How did you find me?” “I don’t know.” This was going nowhere fast. Claudia glared at him. “What were you doing out there on the road all alone tonight?” “I don’t know.” “Where did you come from?” “I don’t know.”
“Were you in some sort of accident?” Well, duh. Although, whether she’d actually hit him or not was still up for debate.
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know these things?” she asked in frustration.
His dark gaze held hers for the longest moment. “I’ve been … erased.”
A hair-prickling draft lifted the hair at the back of Claudia’s neck, as if a ghost had just slipped past her. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. “Erased? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t … remember.” The fingertips pressed more deeply into his temples. He squeezed his eyes closed and swayed for a moment as if his knees were about to buckle. Then his lids snapped open and he caught her in the most penetrating gaze she’d ever endured. Suddenly, it was Claudia who felt a little weak in the knees.
She tried to suppress a shiver as that dark gaze held hers. “Are you saying you have amnesia?”
“Amnesia? Yes … I have amnesia.” His hands dropped to his sides. Claudia tried not to follow the motion.
The
