Under The Gun. Lyn Stone
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was undergoing a monumental change.
Will valued that friendship the way it was. He envied Holly’s easy way with people, her passionate outbursts and her engaging laugh. How did she do it?
She got so involved. There wasn’t a trace of the ice-princess reserve of the women he went out with. A cautious maneuver on his part, those choices. Safety lay in choosing women like his mother. No danger of emotional entanglements there, that was for damn sure.
Matt had pointed that out and Will had never even bothered to deny it. Like to like, he would say. But Will had known since the first time he met Holly that wasn’t really so, at least not in his case. Opposites did attract, big time. He also knew he wouldn’t act on it.
His head ached. His bones felt like rubber and his muscles like the Jell-O he had eaten earlier. He couldn’t believe he was getting aroused, not when he was in this condition. She’d probably smack him if she woke up and realized it.
Not that he would ever do anything to insult her, like coming on to her. He doubted he could follow through at the moment even if she were coming on to him.
A guilty weariness assaulted him when he remembered how good a friend she had always been to him and how he was seriously taking advantage of that.
Could be that she thought she was merely providing what comfort she could, a distraction from his grief and worry. If so, that was working for the moment, and he would have to thank her for it later.
He luxuriated in the feel of her body warming his and the fact that she cared enough to do this.
Too bad he wasn’t up to discovering her motive. He put it on his mental list of things to do right after he avenged his brother’s death.
For now, the closeness and caring she offered were enough.
Chapter 3
Will feigned sleep when Holly left his bed so he wouldn’t do something crazy like ask her to stay. He suspected her compassion had limits he had come close to violating, and his injury was no excuse.
She returned in a little while and shook him gently. “I’m sorry, Will, but this can’t wait any longer. Time for your debriefing.”
It angered him that she had turned all professional after lavishing that very personal warmth on him last night. He knew it was an unreasonable response on his part, but he didn’t feel reasonable.
His answers were curt as he described all that he recalled from the operation at the airfield.
He remembered too damn little of what had happened that night, and would have given just about anything to forget what he did recall.
The interview proved very short and she left to make her report. He knew Jack and the others were waiting on it, such as it was.
Somehow, Will had to face this head-on. He had to do all he could to help catch the one who’d killed Matt. But what could he do lying here blind as a bat and mad as hell? He had to get up, get his mind and body in gear and quit hanging on to Holly at every opportunity.
She said he would get over this, that his sight would return. She’d better be correct. Right now he wasn’t ready to accept any other scenario. He could see a little, make out light and dark. That was something, wasn’t it? A good sign. He wasn’t totally blind.
Will bumped into a chair, causing a loud clatter when it tipped over on the hardwood floor. He stopped, swaying slightly until he regained his balance.
“What in the world do you think you’re trying to do?” Holly cried.
He felt her arms lock around him before he could turn toward her. “I was headed for the bathroom. Do you mind?”
“Yes, I mind!” She shifted to brace her shoulder beneath his arm. “Hold on to me. Go slow. Turn right,” she commanded, grunting when he leaned heavily against her.
“Here you are.” She placed his hand on the edge of the sink. “You need help?”
“No. I’ve been doing this all by myself for several years now.” She was in a mood? Well, so was he. “You can leave now. I promise not to knock anything else over.”
She was still in the doorway. He could vaguely see her move, as if she were shifting from one foot to the other, watching him. “Well? Go!” he ordered.
She moved farther away, but the door still stood open. Light from the hallway outlined her just beyond it.
“Planning to aim it for me?” he snapped. “Are cheap thrills why you’re hanging around?”
She scoffed. “Thrills, huh? I’ve aimed bigger guns into better places, believe me.”
He staggered over and slammed the door in her sassy face. He felt like hell and she was acting mean as the devil. He knew his anger was unreasonable and inappropriate, but he didn’t care right now.
The hook latch on the door was simple enough, even for a blind man, Will thought. He fastened it and began feeling his way around the room.
Let her stand out there and fume if she wanted to. He wasn’t leaving here until he had showered and shaved, and felt at least halfway human again. Maybe steam from the bath would help, lubricate his eyes or something. Hell, he’d try anything.
The sound of banging woke him. A loud crash and rush of air warned him the door had given way. Not a sound he’d mistake, having busted down a few himself. Damn, he’d fallen asleep in the tub.
For a second, he considered covering up, but didn’t. He sat there calmly, arms resting on the lip of the enormous antique bathtub, up to his chest in hot, soapy water. Correction, barely warm, barely soapy water. How long had he slept?
“Why did you lock that door?” Holly demanded. She stood above him, probably had her arms crossed, those long red nails tapping against her sleeves.
He blinked up at her, wishing he could see her expression, even if it was furious. There would be that sparkle in her dark brown eyes. One thing about Holly, she looked damn good when she was mad. Her lips might be drawn down, but that accentuated her dimples even more than her smile did.
She would have those two tiny lines between her eyebrows, visible only when she frowned. Otherwise her skin would look smooth as cream with a subtle hint of mocha. And a blush of dusky pink always flared on her high cheekbones when her temper rose like this.
“God, I miss your face,” he said, without thinking how plaintive it would sound. He could have kicked himself.
She knelt quickly, her hands covering one of his. “Oh, Will. What am I gonna do with you?”
He rubbed his free hand over his face, dipped it in the water and swiped it again. “Get me a doctor.”
“The pain still that bad?” she asked softly.
He shook his head. “No. The eyes are still that bad.”
How am I supposed to get Matt’s murderer if I can’t see to shoot straight?
“I’ll help you,” she said, as if he’d spoken out loud.
A ripple of unease crawled up his spine. How did she do that? She’d done it before. When?
“In the hospital…” She laid her cheek against the back of his hand.
He pulled his hand free and sat upright. “What?”
“In the hospital,” she repeated, “you saw something. You envisioned that guy coming down the hall and warned us. If you hadn’t, we’d all be dead now. You’ve never felt…seen anything like that before, have you?”
He was still too shaken to answer, still caught up in the notion that she might be reading his thoughts. As Matt used to do, answering unspoken questions.
What if Holly had the power to do that, too, and had simply elected not to tell anyone about it?