Pitch Black (20 page)

No
. He was not ready to give up on her yet. “It isn’t a betrayal if she doesn’t know she’s yours.” He kept his voice low. Though no one was close enough to hear, he believed Samantha must be able to sense him. How could she not feel the magnetic pull as strongly as he did? Especially now, when he was so close he could almost reach out and take her?

“I can forgive you,” he told her.

He meant it. It wasn’t entirely her fault. He had been remiss, not acting sooner. A woman as beautiful as Samantha would, of course, draw male attention. He’d assumed her unhappiness over her divorce would keep her locked up at home, licking her wounds, until he was ready to come for her. That was a mistake Darwin intended to rectify very soon.

Not yet.
Do nothing for now. Just observe.
Wise idea, and he followed his own instincts, wondering, as the minutes ticked by, why the pair had not gone up to Samantha’s apartment.

He began to feel hopeful. Perhaps this was not a romantic date. The driver could be a casual acquaintance giving her a lift home.

Then the two of them turned and looked at each other. The exchange was thick with expectation; they stared at each other with raw intensity. He knew the moment to be a critical one when Samantha lifted her hand, appearing poised to reach for the stranger, to draw him close enough to kiss her lush mouth.

Darwin nearly vomited. Unwilling to witness such a thing, he furiously pounded his hand on the steering wheel, hitting, by accident, the horn.

Her hand dropped. The moment had ended.

Good thing for them. His remarkable self-control might not have lasted if he was actually forced to witness the only woman he had ever wanted in the arms of another man. He could possibly withstand knowing it was happening, but he could not be expected to watch.

So drive away.

He reached into the glove compartment instead. Retrieving his silencer-equipped Beretta nine-millimeter handgun, he dropped it on his lap. Just in case.

Leaning forward, over the steering wheel, he craned to see more of the stranger’s car, desperately wanting a glimpse of the license tag. But from here, blocked by the truck, he couldn’t see any lower than the lid of the trunk.

Suddenly, the passenger door ahead of him opened. He sank further, watching as Samantha stepped out, her beautiful profile washed with illumination from the streetlight.

The driver’s door remained closed.
Tsk
ing, he whispered, “Not a gentleman, are you? Not seeing a lady to the door. Who knows what dangers might be lurking in the night?”

A good thing he was here to see to Samantha’s well being.

Darwin’s spirits—lifted by the thought that his Sam had not invited the driver in—were dashed when the other door opened as well. Watching in dismay, he saw the tall stranger exit and join her on the sidewalk. The man was young, good-looking.

Darwin lifted the gun. Flicked off the safety.

Instead of curling an arm around her slim waist, leading her up the stairs to a night of carnal pleasure, however, the driver bent into the backseat of the car. When he stood, he held a large cardboard box. It appeared hefty. He had to shift it around to ensure a good grip before turning to follow Samantha to her apartment.

“What are you up to?”

There were any number of possibilities. Perhaps this was merely a friend, helping Samantha with a heavy purchase.

At midnight? Doubtful.

A lover then, bringing sexual devices, toys with which to play, pornographic images to share in her soft bed?

His bile rose again. Holding his breath, Darwin watched as the two of them reached her floor, releasing it with an angry hiss when she beckoned her visitor inside her home, closing the door behind him. Shutting him, and the rest of the world, out.

“One. Two. Three,” he whispered.

In one minute, he would drive away. Staying here, knowing another would be spending the night in Samantha’s arms, was too much for even him.

“Four. Five. Six.”

He fingered the trigger of his Beretta.
Maybe
he would drive away. Maybe he wouldn’t.

“Seven. Eight. Nine.”

The tension dragged out with every second. By the time he reached forty, one hand was clenched around the grip of the gun. The other gripped the steering wheel. Which way he would go when he said the word
sixty
, he honestly couldn’t say. It was as undetermined as the random flip of a coin.

At fifty-five, the apartment door opened. His rival stepped out, no longer holding the box. Samantha remained within. They exchanged a few words. No kiss good night. No warm smile. No intimacy. Then the man walked toward the stairs, and Samantha shut the door.

Good girl
.

The tension that had pushed him nearly to his breaking point began to ease, his breath returned, his heart took up its regular beat.

Calm, yes. Relieved, too. But he didn’t relax. Nor did his anger dissipate.

Nothing sexual could have happened in the brief time they were inside, and they had not kissed good night. But there had been that moment, that expectant moment in the car when they had almost instinctively leaned toward each other before the sound of his car horn had pushed them apart.

Not lovers . . . but not long until they will be
.

Revolted by the thought, he put the gun down long enough to turn the key in the ignition, then immediately picked it up again. The Beretta heavy and warm in one hand, he flicked a button with the other, sending the passenger-side window on a quick, soundless descent.

The stranger had reached the well-lit stairs, which faced the street, and began to walk down them. He didn’t look back, or even ahead, instead focused on something in his own hand.

Fool not to watch where you’re going
.

Slowly pulling out, he let the vehicle drift forward noiselessly, watching every move the stranger made. By the time Darwin pulled his SUV even with the walkway leading to the stairs, his rival was halfway down. One pull of the trigger away. One tiny little pull.

A flip of the coin.

Yes?

No
. Samantha might react badly to having someone she knew murdered on her doorstep. She could retreat out of sight, making it impossible to find her again.

He could do nothing.

Frustrated, thwarted, Darwin pushed the button to lift the window, keeping only the lightest pressure on the gas pedal. His headlights off, he was nearly invisible as he rolled quietly through the night, out of range, leaving his prey unaware of how close to death he had come.

“Damn it! Who is he?”

The speculation would drive him mad. He wasn’t accustomed to Samantha varying her routine like this. First last night, her apartment showing no sign of life at two a.m. Now this.

Maybe she wasn’t home at all last night
. Perhaps, like tonight, she had been with him, the rival.

He forced himself not to be disappointed in her. It wasn’t her fault. She was vulnerable, lonely. She had been ripe for the picking, and that bastard in the dark sedan had obviously picked.

There was only one thing to do: find out who the other man was and eliminate him.

How careless he had been to let his impulsive anger drive him away in such a hurry. He might have been able to see the tag as he pulled up to the car. Though he considered going back, he quickly discounted the idea. Not only was it risky to enter the neighborhood again; he was also several blocks away. The interloper was long gone by now.

All was not lost, though. There was another way. He had other resources to find out what Samantha was up to, another way to peer into the darkest recesses of her private life.

And he intended to use it.

As soon as Alec
had said he was leaving, Sam had gotten out of the car. His decision was made, no way would she make things uncomfortable by getting pissy or whiny about it. But, as he’d gruffly informed her, he wasn’t going to let her carry her CPU up by herself. So she’d been forced to wait there while he hoisted the large box and lugged it up the outside steps, trying not to feel embarrassed at having been shot down.

Leading the way, she’d tugged off one of his gloves so she could retrieve her keys from the bowels of her purse and unlock the door.”Just leave it on the desk,” she said once they were inside. “I know you’re ready to go. I can take it from here.”

With a curt nod, he did as she asked, then turned to go. The man obviously intended to ignore what had happened between them. He seemed anxious to get out before the pathetic, horny, cheated-on ex-wife leaped on him or something.

Don’t be stupid
. He was playing this smart. A lot smarter than her.

She had somehow managed a cordial tone as she handed him his gloves. “Don’t forget these. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

As he took the bunched leather, his fingers touched hers ever so lightly. She managed to maintain an impassive expression, despite the way her fingertips sizzled in reaction to that brief, innocent brush of skin on skin.

“You’re welcome,” he said in a low growl, waiting for her to let go.

She forced herself to. And then, with a simple good night, he was gone.

The moment she closed the door behind him, Sam heaved a disappointed sigh. She stood there for a long moment, trying to go back three days in her mind, to before her world had turned so upside down. Wondering how things could feel so off-kilter in such a brief amount of time. She felt like a different person, as if the real Samantha Dalton was finally showing her face again after her long, self-imposed period of penance and isolation.

Penance for being stupid enough to get involved with someone who she knew would inevitably hurt her. Isolation to try to prevent it from happening again.

So why on earth was she getting hung up on a man who had been shot by a woman less than six months ago and now refused to talk about it?

“You’re crazy,” she told herself. “And you’re lucky he left.”

The words might have left her mouth, but they didn’t sink into her mind or her heart. Because when a knock sounded on the front door a few seconds later, she yanked it open without a single hesitation, not knowing why he had come back, just glad of it.

The first thing she noticed: Alec wasn’t frowning. In fact, if she had to name it, she’d call his expression rueful.

“Is something wrong?”

He stepped inside, closing the door against the cold. Looking down at his own hand, Alec made a small sound that could have been either groan or laugh—or both; then a smile widened the sexy mouth. “Uh, Sam?”

“Yes?”

He lifted the bundle of leather she’d given him a couple of minutes before, holding the glove by a finger. Glove. Singular. “Black hole of death strikes again, huh?”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” A quick, frantic glance confirmed the mate was lying on the floor nearby.

Grabbing it and handing it to him, she noted a glint of wicked amusement in his eyes. The brooding, angry man from the car was gone, as was the frustrated FBI agent, at least for the moment. Here was the flirtatious charmer she’d glimpsed a time or two since they’d met. The one who took her breath away.

“No wonder you have a dozen odd gloves. You steal ‘em one at a time, huh?”

The change of mood had been so quick and unexpected, Sam could do nothing but laugh in response. Alec hadn’t exactly returned for a passionate kiss or a promise that they were going to do something about this thing they were both feeling. But he was smiling. Which, in her book, was a pretty good second choice. “It wasn’t intentional, I promise.”

“It’s okay. I never wear them and could have lived without them.”

She tilted her head, eyeing him curiously. “So why did you come back?”

He didn’t reply at first, merely staring at her. A battle seemed to wage behind his eyes, as if he honestly didn’t know what to do—something she doubted was a frequent occurrence for this competent man. Finally, when she had half decided he was just going to turn around and walk back out without another word, he admitted, “Because I didn’t want to leave you here to build this up in your head even more than you already have.”

“Oh, you’re a mind reader now?”

He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “It wasn’t too hard.”

“Are you profiling me?”

“Any guy who’s ever wanted a woman would know what you’re thinking, Sam.”

She tried to stay huffy, but melted a little instead at his admission that he wanted her.

“You wear a shield that says, ‘Back off.’ When you finally dropped it in the car, you didn’t deserve to think I hadn’t even noticed.”

“I knew you noticed,” she shot back. “I just figured you were too chickenshit to do anything about it.”

His quick bark of laughter told her the insult had rolled right off. Lifting a hand to her face, he smoothed back a strand of her hair, rubbing it lightly between his fingers. “So you knew exactly what I was thinking, huh?”

She swallowed hard, fighting not to curl her cheek into his palm. “Yep.”

“Okay.” He dropped his hand again. “But in case there’s any last doubt, let me clear it up. The answer is yes. I did want to haul you onto my lap and kiss the taste out of your mouth.”

The strength drained from her legs, and she leaned against the back of a chair. She’d been wanting some physical connection; now she wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew. Then again, choking on someone who excited her as much as Alec didn’t seem like such a bad way to go.

Someone else’s weak, breathy vocal cords asked, “Why didn’t you?”

“Because this whole thing has been a little crazy. Fast. Unexpected.” He shrugged in resignation. “What can I say? I was trying to be a nice guy.”

She waited, wondering if there was more to that sentence.

Now do you
not
want to be a nice guy?

The words didn’t come. Instead, he cleared his throat and straightened again. “I just thought you should know that. It’s not lack of interest. It’s lack of ability to focus on much of anything except the job right now.”