She wanted to postpone the crash, the fear, the moment when she allowed herself to acknowledge that she could have
died
today, could easily have been strangled to death and dumped in that alley, her vibrant life cut off in its prime. Just another violent statistic.
He got that. He’d been around enough crime victims, and enough grieving family members, to understand the sentiment. Putting off “dealing with” things was a reaction as normal and human as reaching for a light switch to banish the darkness.
Thing was, when she flipped that switch on and allowed light to shine on the dark places of her mind, she was going to
have
to face them. All of them. It would be neither easy nor pretty. Facing your own death was a momentous thing. She just hadn’t yet realized how momentous.
“Okay,” he said, mentally vowing to be there with her when it happened. “But humor me, would you? Wait here while I get the car? I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. She lifted a hand to his face and ran her thumb along his bottom lip. “I wasn’t unconscious, right? I didn’t imagine what happened between us?”
“Well, you dreamed it,” he told her. “But no, you didn’t imagine it.”
She lifted her face to his and persisted. “I didn’t dream that kiss, though.”
“No, you didn’t dream that.” The kisses of Lexie’s dreams had been far more intense than the one they’d shared on the street. But not as important. Reality made it incredibly important.
“Whew,” she said, still gazing up at him, lovely and sexy, despite the bruises and the weariness and the tangled hair and torn shirt. Just lovely.
Knowing what she wanted, he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her again, as carefully as he had before. This time, he gave in to his deep need to taste her and swept his tongue between her lips. She sighed, turning her head and kissing him back, their tongues tangling, warm and lazy like this slow Georgia afternoon.
She tasted familiar and so damn sweet. They embraced as if they had always done this, had always been like this, and Aidan simply didn’t allow himself to question it or second-guess it. Maybe things had started strangely, maybe it had taken a shared dream to make them realize they wanted each other, but right now he didn’t care. He just wanted to keep standing here kissing her in the sunshine, both because he liked it and to protest the darkness that had drawn them together.
Good things had to end, however. Finally, thinking of the place and her physical condition, he ended the kiss. “Wait here.”
She sighed. “If you insist.”
“I do,” he said, already turning to stride across the lot toward the rental vehicle.
The car was small, not easily accommodating his tall form, but it would do to get her home. Then he’d get Mick and Julia to bring over his SUV. While he’d headed to the hospital, the others had gone back to his house to go through the files and recordings he’d studied yesterday. With so many sets of eyes and ears, hopefully they’d find something he’d missed.
Pulling up, he was about to get out to help her, but she was already climbing in the other side. He waited until she buckled herself in, seeing how careful she was not to let the seat belt brush against her throat. Clenching his hands on the steering wheel, he had to look straight ahead, not wanting her to see how affected he was by her every pained movement.
“It doesn’t hurt that much,” she murmured.
Okay, so apparently he hadn’t hidden his reaction well enough.
“Did they give you any pain pills?” he asked.
“A prescription. But seriously, I don’t even know if I’ll need to fill it.”
“Fill it, then decide if you need to use them.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, cocky and amused. If not for the Kathleen Turner voice, someone might not even realize she’d almost had the life choked out of her a few hours ago.
Aidan forced himself to let go of those dark thoughts and drove out of the parking lot onto the main road. He’d only driven to her home once, but remembered the way. It wasn’t like Granville was big enough to ever really get lost in.
Unless you were a teenage girl from the wrong side of town.
They didn’t speak; he wasn’t sure what was on her mind. Them? The dream? The reality?
“I called Walter for an address,” she said, answering the question he’d asked inside.
The case . . . her story
. That’s what was on her mind. Work. It figured.
He liked her for that. Liked her a lot. He also knew she needed to focus on something—anything—else.
“You’re such a romantic. Whose address?” he asked, not hiding his amusement.
“I’m very romantic,” she retorted. “You wait and see: When this is over, I’ll outromance the queen of hearts.”
He frowned, mumbling, “Wasn’t she a psychotic, head-lopping megalomaniac?”
“Don’t make me hit you before I’ve even seen you naked.”
Shifting in his seat, remembering they had absolutely seen each other naked in every way except in reality, he had to say, “You know, I don’t quite know what to make of all this. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“Like what?”
“Like
you
. How you make me feel. I don’t know what to do with you. I’m not usually so . . .”
“Peppy?” she asked, sounding mischievous. Because peppy he was not. No more than she was perky.
“Oh, here we go with the adjectives again. Let’s just ban words from our vocabulary that start with P and end with Y, all right?”
She tapped a finger on her cheek. “Like play?”
He thought about it, conceding, “Okay, that one can stay.”
“Party? Pretty? Paltry?”
“They gave you a sample pack of that pain medication, didn’t they?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
She grinned. “Not a bit. But even if they had, I could outdo you in any word game.”
“My luck to go up against a writer.”
Laughing softly, she said, “Since you think I’m medicated, can I ask you something else, and then later we’ll chalk it up to the medicine I didn’t have?”
He had a feeling he knew what she wanted to ask.
“Last night. Has anything like that happened to you before? I mean, I can certainly see you inspiring them, but do you routinely go around inviting yourself into women’s wet dreams?”
He choked on a mouthful of air. “Uh, no.”
“Never?”
“Never. I was just as surprised as you were. Thought it was all my own dream until I realized it couldn’t be.”
She thought it over, then nodded. “Good. I have to say, it certainly beats beer and pizza for a first date.”
“Oh, please,” he said, scoffing at the notion, “you obviously haven’t been out with anyone other than an overgrown frat boy in a long time.”
She twined her fingers in her lap, looking down at them. “I haven’t
been
with anyone in a long time. Not in any way, shape, or form.”
He got the message. Found it hard to believe, given how vibrant and beautiful she was, but was also grateful she was completely free and unencumbered now. Free to explore with him, help him recall all he’d been missing about a normal life.
Clearing her throat, she changed the subject. “As much as I enjoy flirting with you and taking advantage of the fact that you think I’m a little high on meds, we do have other things to discuss.”
“I know,” he said, knowing there would be moments to look forward to later, when this pall wasn’t hanging over them, and the town. “Whose address did you want from your boss?”
“The friend of Walter’s who found the bones. He told me the guy lived out on Old Terrytown Road, and I got to thinking about what those prostitutes said.”
He almost skidded right through a stop sign at that one.
Prostitutes?
They hadn’t even talked about that part of her adventure. He could only shake his head, wondering if she was always so ballsy. He liked that about her, but it also scared the hell out of him. “Maybe you should back up a little and tell me everything that happened today.”
She did, quickly and concisely, that husky tone making her day sound like an adventure.
Yeah. If only it hadn’t ended with her getting brutalized by a thug.
The only time she showed any emotion was when she spoke of the fear and plight of the teenage girls, but even then she was able to focus on the information they’d provided rather than what might be done about them and others like them. There was nothing spacey or woozy about her. She hadn’t been kidding about the medication; she was entirely sharp, focused,
on
.
“And they said a lot of local girls—including Jessie Leonard—went out to be ‘entertainment’ at this mysterious club?” he asked.
“Yes. One said it’s out in a big, falling-down house in the country. I got to thinking about those remains Walter’s friend found. Terrytown Road’s an old plantation route that winds out toward the ass end of nowhere. There are a number of abandoned houses near it.”
He had to admire her quick thinking. “It’s possible these human remains came from near one of those old places.”
“Yes. Find out who the victim is, and who belongs to the club, and maybe we’ll be able to narrow in on Vonnie’s location.”
It made excellent sense and was a strong lead. So he didn’t even take the time to caution her about her hopes for finding Vonnie alive after five days.
Nor did he reveal that he’d tried again to reach out to the girl, sending his thoughts soaring over Granville before he’d come inside the hospital. He hadn’t gotten a scent, nor her voice. Just the sensation of moisture on his face.
Hot moisture—the kind caused by tears.
Not wanting to think of Vonnie crying, desperate and alone, he got back to the point—trying to save her. “What did Walter tell you about the location?”
“He wanted to protect his friend’s privacy. But he told me to check between mile markers ten and eleven.” With a smile, she added, “With a strong emphasis on the ten-and-a-half point. I’m thinking we can drive out there and explore, see if we can find any overgrown driveways or something that lead to houses set back off the road, ones that can’t be easily seen.”
Though he knew what her answer would be, he had to ask the question. “You sure you don’t want to sit this one out, given everything that’s happened today?”
“You sure you want to keep breathing?”
“Okay, just had to ask.”
“I know,” she conceded.
Glancing at the dashboard clock, he said, “We’re going to run out of daylight soon.”
“So let’s head out there now rather than going home.”
“Forget it. You need a hot shower and a change of clothes. Plus, we’re not going alone.”
She tilted her head in curiosity, as if wondering who in this town would help them. Judging by what he’d seen at the game last night, he suspected Granville wasn’t as devoid of decent people as she might have been thinking recently. But he had some far better assistants in mind.
“I called in a few friends to help with the investigation.” He quickly told her about Julia and the others, not surprised she knew right away who they were.
“The eXtreme Investigations people? Their names came up in some articles about you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t judge them by those. They’re good people. And excellent detectives.”
“So they were the ones with you in the alley. Not just some Good Samaritans, huh?”
“Right. They’re the reason I got to you in time.”
She curled one leg up in the seat. “I’d meant to ask you about that. How on earth did you find me? I know you realized I was going to Berna Jackson’s, but it wasn’t even like you could drive around and search for my car since I didn’t have it.”
He shifted in the seat, focusing on the route, not on the additional questions an honest answer would raise. “Julia got a tip from a friend and drove me over.”
“What friend?”
He flicked the turn signal as they reached her street, turned carefully, focusing on the road and hoping she’d forget the question since they were almost to her house.
Fat chance of that. As soon as he pulled into her driveway and cut the engine, she asked again. “Aidan? What friend tipped her off? Does she know someone else in Granville?”
“Not exactly.” Opening the door, he got out and then walked around to the passenger’s side, opening her door for her and extending a helping hand. She took it, let him help her to her feet, and leaned against him while he walked her to the door.
Again, he’d hoped she would be distracted, but the minute she turned the key in her lock and led him inside, she put a hand on his arm and looked up at him, her expression troubled. “What aren’t you telling me? Something else happened. That’s why you’re being so secretive.”
“No, it didn’t, I swear. I just don’t like to talk about Julia to people who don’t know her.”
Her mouth rounded into a shocked O and she immediately let go of his arm. Her lashes fluttering, she stepped away from him, as if he’d made her uncomfortable.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. She thought he was protecting some secret he shared with Julia. As in a personal relationship.
After the way he’d kissed her right in front of the other woman, and everyone else, back in that alley, she actually thought he was involved with someone else.
Having no other choice, he admitted, “Look, her partner told her. Morgan was scoping out the town, spotted you, and told her you were in some trouble.”
She looked both relieved and more confused. “Well, you could have said that, couldn’t you? How did he know me? Was he walking by the alley or something?”
Damn, she was relentless. Thrusting a frustrated hand through his hair, he spit out the truth, knowing she wouldn’t believe it but unable to keep coming up with half answers to put her off. “He’s a ghost, okay? Julia, my former boss, talks to a dead guy.”
He had to hand it to her: She managed to refrain from laughing or rolling her eyes in disbelief. Instead, she merely shrugged. “Gee, why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
He knew it sounded crazy. It had sounded nuts to him when he’d first met Julia, so for an in-your-face, truth-and-nothing-but reporter like Lexie, it had to seem even more ridiculous. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t absolutely true.