CHAPTER 8
Dante’s rage just kept rising to the surface as he looked through the police records of Sarah’s case. Just a few phone calls had gotten the information delivered to his personal computer. He didn’t give a shit if it was questionable that he was reviewing records while he wasn’t on duty, studying a case that wasn’t anywhere close to his own jurisdiction. He was a goddamn cop twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and this was personal.
Sarah had been silent on the drive home and had spoken to him only to ask for one of his T-shirts to sleep in. She’d showered and retreated to a guest room, barely saying a word. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked fragile and terrified. Dante didn’t like it. He wanted to see her smiling again right fucking now.
Bastard!
Dante’s fist slammed onto the desk in his den, right on top of the image of the suspect. It didn’t help. He needed to hear the satisfying crack of facial bones breaking as he pummeled the bastard to death. After what he’d done to Sarah, he deserved it.
Gut instinct was telling Dante that this was the perpetrator behind the destruction of Sarah’s house. It all fit: the rage behind the crime, the destruction of personal property, and the violent message left behind. The fucker who had nearly killed her still wanted her dead.
No wonder she avoids hospitals now.
She’d told him during one of her home visits that she was seeing outpatients only. He’d never really questioned why Sarah didn’t admit patients to the hospital here in Amesport, why she turned their care over to another physician if they needed to be hospitalized. She was relatively new to the area, and he’d thought that maybe she just hadn’t gotten her admitting privileges yet.
She doesn’t want to go back into a hospital.
“Dante?” Sarah’s hesitant voice sounded near the doorway of the den.
He looked up and saw Sarah standing there in just his white T-shirt. She looked exhausted, and her expression was troubled. He wanted to hold her on his lap and wrap himself around her until she felt safe again. Feral impulses made him clench his fists on the desk, and he had to suppress the need to reach for her immediately. She was approaching him, and he needed to let her talk. “I thought you were sleeping.”
She shook her head slowly. “I couldn’t. I think you need to know what happened. You’re helping me. I don’t want you to go into this blind. You need to know everything. I’m sorry. I guess I just didn’t want to consider that this could be connected to something that happened in Chicago. But that’s not rational. Chances are, it is connected. Things like this just don’t happen in Amesport.”
She’s coming to me. She trusts me.
Even though she didn’t want to talk about what happened, she was telling him about it to keep him from getting hurt because he didn’t have all of the information. For Dante, that was so much more meaningful than him having to confront her and finagle the story from her. He wanted to hear it from her, but he hadn’t wanted to push her. “Talk to me.”
He watched as she came into the room and settled herself in the comfortable leather chair in front of his desk, tucking her feet beneath her body before she took a big breath. “I was just ending my first year of practice in Chicago when I got a new patient, a nineteen-year-old boy. He’d been involved in a car accident, hit head-on by a drunk driver while his mother was driving. His mom died immediately, but Trey lived through it. He broke both of his legs, and he had other injuries, but he was young, and he slowly improved. He was in his first year of college and wanted to go to medical school. I ended up spending a lot of time with him. We had an orthopedic specialist on the case, but I was his admitting physician. I started making a habit of seeing him last on my hospital rounds so I could help him stay caught up on college work and help him with some of his biology studies. We became very fond of each other.”
“He developed a monstrous crush on you,” Dante told her quietly.
Sarah shook her head. “No. It wasn’t like that.”
“Sweetheart, it might not have been that way for you. But believe me, I was a nineteen-year-old kid once, and I know what’s primarily on the mind of a nineteen-year-old male.” Dante paused for a minute before adding, “You’re beautiful and kind, and were only a few years older than he was.”
Sarah shrugged. “He never acted inappropriately. He mostly talked about his ambitions to be a doctor.”
Dante could guarantee her the kid had his fantasies, but he prompted Sarah. “What happened?”
“I was helping him with some of his classwork one night about three weeks after the accident. His father was there, too. Trey wasn’t close to his dad, and he said he had a bad temper. Trey was closer to his mom, and he was still coping with losing her. That night, while I was there helping him with his biology, Trey died.” Sarah’s voice started to quiver with raw emotion, but she continued. “We coded him for over an hour, but he was gone. The postmortem showed a very large pulmonary embolism, even though we took all precautions because he was such high risk. The case was reviewed and all of the physicians on the case were cleared of any wrongdoing. It just . . . happened.” Her voice began to crack.
Dante looked at her tortured expression, his heart aching for her. How devastating must that experience have been when she knew the young patient so well, and was still in her first year of practice? She’d been so damn young. “His father blamed you,” Dante stated flatly.
“I don’t think he had anyone else to blame. His wife was dead, and the child who he thought was going to live after the accident ended up dying, too. I was there when it happened. I ran the whole code while we tried to resuscitate Trey and failed. The father had to be taken out of the room because he completely snapped. Telling him later that evening that his son was dead was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. He was angry.”
“Two days later, he tried to kill you. I saw the police reports, Sarah,” Dante confessed.
Sarah squirmed in her chair and nodded sharply, repositioning her body in the other direction. “Trey’s father knew I took the stairs to the ICU every single evening. He saw me coming in and out of the doorway to the stairs often enough. Two days later, he caught me in the stairwell, on the landing between the second and third floor. Everything else that happened is a blur. When he attacked me, he slammed my head against the stone wall in the stairwell. All I remember is him screaming that I killed all of his family and I needed to die. I tried to fight him off, but I didn’t have much of a chance. He already had me on the ground, and as soon as he started stabbing me, I got even weaker from blood loss. The note he put on the wall of the cottage is the one thing I can remember him screaming over and over. ‘Die, bitch.’”
“Twenty goddamn times. Holy fuck. It’s a miracle that you’re still alive,” Dante rasped, trying to control his own homicidal urges at that moment. Granted, the man had lost his wife and son, but he’d taken his grief out on an innocent woman who had only tried to help his child. And the bastard had almost succeeded in killing her.
“Had one of the nurses not come down the stairwell at just the right time, I would have died that evening. John fled down the stairs and outside as soon as he heard somebody coming down the stairs. He hit an artery in my arm, and I would have bled to death very quickly from the wounds had I not already been in a hospital. The emergency crew there saved my life.”
“The police never caught him.” Dante met Sarah’s gaze, seeing nothing but sadness in her dark blue eyes, tears trailing down her cheeks.
“No,” she verified, swiping at her tears. “When I recovered, I couldn’t bring myself to go back into the hospital. After Trey died, I was already nauseous just from walking in the door. And after all of the wounds healed from John’s assault, I couldn’t even make myself go into the hospital. I started having panic attacks.”
Unable to control his instincts any longer, Dante got up and took Sarah’s hand, pulling her up and wrapping her in his arms. “Who took care of you?” Dante asked in a low, comforting voice as he ran his hand up and down her back. Christ. He wished he had been there for her then.
“My mother. I had an apartment in Chicago close to the hospital, but I stayed with her for a while after the incident. I think it was hard for her, too, because she wanted her independent, successful doctor daughter back. But I couldn’t seem to stop the panic attacks every time I tried to go back into the hospital, and I knew I needed a change. I started looking at smaller cities around the country that needed doctors, and I ended up here. I’ve always wanted to be on the coast, and when I found out how few doctors this town had, I thought it was perfect. I still haven’t been able to go into the hospital here, but I’ve been happy in Amesport until tonight. It was like starting over for me. I never really thought he’d come after me. I thought he attacked me in a fit of posttraumatic rage and grief. If John did this, then he still wants me to die.”
“It was him,” Dante rumbled, holding her trembling body just a little bit tighter. Fuck! Who could try to hurt this woman? Every instinct Dante had was screaming at him to protect her. Sarah walked around in her own intellectual bubble, and that asshole had broken it in the most horrifying of ways. Now, instead of just feeling isolated and lonely, she felt alone and afraid when she’d never done anything but good for other people. He didn’t know much about comforting a woman, but keeping her safe he could do. She was his to protect now—had been since he’d held her soft, responsive body earlier as she went to pieces in his arms.
“I know it’s him,” she sighed. “I can feel it in my gut. Nobody around here is crazy enough or hates me enough to have done what was done to my house. I knew as soon as I saw the message on the wall. It was the same thing he was screaming the night he stabbed me.”
Dante tried like hell not to form that picture in his mind. If he conjured up an image of a crazy man stabbing away at Sarah, he was going to lose it. “You know I’m going to be your shadow until we catch him,” Dante warned her.
“I need to go to work, take care of responsibilities—”
“Fine. Then that’s where I’ll be. Consider me your personal bodyguard. He’s here somewhere, and he knows where you live. Obviously, he knows where you work. It’s not a big city.”
“Oh God, my office—”
“Your office is fine. I called Joe once you went to bed, and he’d already been by your office. Everything is fine there,” Dante informed her calmly.
“Dante, I don’t want to get you involved in this. You already have enough on your plate right now.”
He was healing, and he didn’t give a shit about the rest of his issues. He didn’t have a single thing happening in his life that was more important than making sure Sarah didn’t get hurt. “I’m already involved and I plan on staying that way until John Thompson is either in jail or dead,” Dante growled, pulling his head back to give Sarah an obstinate look. “You don’t do anything without me. You don’t go anywhere without me. If you’re stepping outside, I want to know. I’m not trying to make you paranoid, but we know he’s in the area, and it won’t take him long to find you. We need to nail this asshole, Sarah. You won’t have a damn life until we do. I’d rather have you alive and pissed off at me than the alternative.” Dante couldn’t even bring himself to think about anything happening to Sarah. If she got hurt or worse, he’d lose what was left of his mind.
“This puts you in danger, too, and you still aren’t healed. I don’t like it,” Sarah told him stubbornly as she pulled away from him and sat on the arm of the chair, her arms folded across her breasts.
“You don’t have to like it,” Dante agreed readily. “You just have to deal with it. You’re a woman who deals mostly in reality. What’s your alternative? You know you need protection, and you know we need to catch this bastard.”
“I can leave. Move again. Go somewhere else and start over,” Sarah cried desperately. “It has to be better than taking the risk of someone else getting hurt.”
Dante looked down at her, noticing that her entire body was tense, and she seemed so exhausted that she wasn’t thinking rationally—for a change. “For how long? Until he catches up to you again? Is that the way you want to live your life . . . running away? I can tell you for a fact that it doesn’t work. Leaving Los Angeles didn’t make things hurt less, and it didn’t stop my grief over losing Patrick. I’m glad I came, but the only one who can resolve those issues is me. Location doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.”
“I have to do something,” she told him desperately.
“Don’t even try it,” Dante told her irritably. Leaning down, he put a hand on each side of her hips, looking her straight in the eye. “Wherever you go, I’ll find you. Wherever you move, I’ll figure out where you are and follow you.”
“Are you threatening me?” she asked defensively.
“Nope. Those aren’t threats, those are promises. Trust me.”
Jesus. She’s a stubborn female.
Nevertheless, there was a part of her that was just so damn vulnerable, and Dante could see it. She could put on a brave face all she wanted to, but he understood the hell she’d been through, and he wanted her to finally live a life free of fear, a life that didn’t make her feel different or odd.
“I do trust you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” Sarah said hesitantly.
Dante slowly shook his head, unable to understand this woman who cared more about his safety than her own. Did she forget that he was a cop? “I won’t get hurt. This is what I do, Sarah. And I’ve done a hell of a lot more dangerous cases than this one.” But right now, none of them seemed as important as keeping Sarah safe from somebody who wanted her dead.
I need to protect her. If something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself and I’ll never get over it. She’s mine to protect now.
“I want to resolve this. You’re right. I can’t run. I’d be putting other people in danger wherever I go. What can I do?” she asked, her voice resigned and determined now.
Obviously her rational mind is back. “Just don’t run away. I’m not in any shape to go chasing after you, but I will if I have to.”
Her face turned into an expression of concern. “Are you hurting?”
“No. But I will be if I have to come after your beautiful ass,” he told her in a voice of warning.
“You’re crazy. You know that, right? You hardly know me, yet you’re willing to be my personal bodyguard.” Her voice was bewildered.
“There’s no body I’d rather be guarding right now than yours, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead before he stood up again. “I have future plans for it.”
“I’ve already told you that you don’t want to see me naked,” Sarah reminded him warily.
“Oh yeah, I do,” Dante contended, his hazel eyes narrowing into a challenging expression.
“Let’s just get this issue over with and out of the way,” she mumbled irritably.
Sarah stood up in front of him and stepped back. Dante watched in fascination as she crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her makeshift nightgown, and lifted his T-shirt off of her body hastily, as though she might change her mind if she didn’t. She wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing underneath the garment. She stood before him completely nude, and his cock was suddenly jerking in appreciation.
“This is the body you’ll see,” Sarah told him tremulously. “It’s nothing but scars. The knife wasn’t big, but the scars are numerous and not very pretty. I lived through the attack, but I see the reminders in the mirror every day.”
Dante stood there gaping at her as his eyes ran up and down her body. Sure, she had scars, but that was to be expected after what had happened to her. Otherwise, she was absolutely perfect, from her beautifully formed breasts with pink, generous nipples to her long legs that seemed to stretch forever. He tried not to think about those slender legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her until they were both spent, and failed miserably. The blonde thatch of hair between her thighs was as light as the hair on her head, and Dante wanted to bury his face between her legs and feast on her. Touching her had been mind-blowing, but tasting her would be fucking perfect.
Mine.
The word radiated through his body until he could barely keep himself from taking what he already knew belonged to him.
“Put the T-shirt back on.” His voice was coarse and graveled, his need to sweep her off to his bed nearly overpowering. But she’d been through too much today. Right now she needed a different kind of comfort, and he wanted to give her whatever she needed. “Go get some sleep.”
Holy shit. I need her to cover that beautiful body now, before I do something I might regret. Not that I’ll ever forget exactly what it looks like. It will be branded in my mind forever.
Fuck! He wanted her so badly he could hardly take a breath, but he didn’t want Sarah like this. He wanted her hot and begging, giving herself to him because she was burning with need. This wasn’t that kind of night, and he didn’t want any regrets later. Painfully, he shoved his carnal instincts down, but he had a hell of a time doing it with her standing naked in his den. Sex isn’t what she needs. Down, boy! What Sarah needed right now was a friend, and he’d be whatever she wanted him to be, even if it was nearly killing him.
“You can’t say I didn’t warn you about my body,” she mumbled as she pulled the T-shirt back over her head.
Dante watched in confusion as she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room. He heard the padded sound of her footsteps on the carpet as she raced up the stairs before he really understood exactly what was happening.
She thinks I didn’t want to look at her body because of her scars?
“Holy fuck!” Dante whispered fiercely, running a frustrated hand through his short hair. How could she not feel the sexual tension between them? Hell, his need was palpable, and thick enough that it was nearly choking him to death.
I see the reminders in the mirror every day.
Thinking back on their little discussion on sexual chemistry, Dante wondered if Sarah really bought into all that crap about the propagation of the species and being attracted to the ideal mate—one who, obviously, she was under the impression was minus any scars or imperfections. In his eyes, all of those hardly noticeable marks were part of her, symbols of the hell she’d been through and survived. For him, the whole package of Sarah was his ideal.
He shut down his computer and grabbed the pistol from the edge of the desk, checking the locks and setting the alarm system before he headed up to his bedroom. Once there, he set the Glock on the nightstand and shucked off his clothing, leaving it in a heap on the floor.
I was wrong. Sarah doesn’t need just a friend, although I want to be the one she comes to whenever she needs someone to listen to her. She needs a lover, too, a man who will worship and pleasure her body, and it’s going to be me. She needs to understand that physical desire goes a hell of a lot deeper than science.
He had to admit that what was happening between him and Sarah was somewhat out of his knowledge base. Truthfully, he’d never needed a woman as badly as he did Sarah. But he was willing to wing it, to listen to his instincts.
Dante stalked out to the hallway and nudged her bedroom door open with his foot, letting the hallway light flood over her bed. She was there, huddled in the very middle, curled almost into a fetal position. Not certain she’d grab on to him, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, feeling the pain in his ribs as he grasped her ass to keep her steady, but he ignored it.
“Dante,” Sarah squealed anxiously. “What are you doing? Put me down. You’re going to hurt yourself, dammit.”
He walked back to his bedroom with her over his shoulder, stroking her bare ass with his hand, and then smacking it hard. “Stay still. You’re not my damn doctor anymore. You’re a woman I desperately want to fuck. And from this moment on, I’m treating you that way.”
He bit back a smile as she hushed entirely, her body completely still. He lowered her slowly to the floor once he entered his bedroom, nearly groaning as the T-shirt bunched up around her breasts. Her bare skin slid softly along his naked chest and abdomen as her toes searched for solid ground.
Tossing her hair back once she found the floor, she looked up at him, and then down. And then down some more, until her eyes landed on his engorged cock, and Dante couldn’t keep from grinning evilly at the expression on her shocked face.
“You are crazy,” she muttered softly, her eyes never leaving his groin.
Dante opened the top drawer of the nightstand and snatched his handcuffs and the key. He raised the hem of the T-shirt with his other hand, blocking her vision before yanking the garment over her head and letting it fall to the floor.
“Sarah Baxter, you’re under arrest.” He slapped the cuffs on her with her hands in front of her before she even knew what was happening. He made them tight enough so she couldn’t slip her hands out of them, but not tight enough to hurt her wrists. Most of the time, he preferred to be the dominant in the bedroom, and from the quick flash of heat he’d seen in her eyes as he’d been cuffing her, Sarah liked it, too. Problem was, he’d never felt anywhere near this covetous and primal, and his feelings were already way beyond just a game of dominance.
Her confused eyes flew to his face. “For what?”
“Fleeing the scene of a crime,” he told her, talking to her like she was one of his felons. He was pissed off, so he let his anger exit his body with his voice. “It was a crime to cover those amazing breasts.”
“You told me—”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It was still a crime. And then you fled.”
Her body was trembling as she asked, “What’s my punishment?”
She wasn’t afraid; she was shaking with arousal, those needy violet eyes almost begging him not to stop. Dante picked her up and tossed her on the bed. Before she could get anywhere, he was on her. After opening one of the cuffs with the key, he threaded the cuff through one of the bars on the iron headboard, and then calmly reattached the cuff and tossed the key onto the nightstand.
“Punishment is learning the truth the pleasurable way,” he answered her firmly. “Did you really think I even saw your scars?” he asked huskily.
She turned her anguished eyes to his face and nodded jerkily.
Dante’s cock twitched as he knelt between her thighs and lowered his body onto hers, allowing him to finally be skin to skin with her. Seeing her shackled to his bed satisfied a little of his primitive caveman urgency, and now he was just enjoying the moment. He could tell that she was a little confused, but her body was heated and turned on, her nipples so hard he could feel them abrading his chest. “I saw the scars only because it nearly kills me to think of how much some bastard hurt you, and I’d like to kill the son of a bitch. But your body is perfect. I know you didn’t miss the raging hard-on I have whenever I feel you or when I looked at you naked, right?” He brushed back a lock of hair from her face, and then gently ran the back of his hand down her soft cheek.
“No. I saw it,” she whispered softly. “It was . . . confusing.”
Dante knew he was now caught in a web of his own making, but he couldn’t seem to make himself give a shit as he was captured by the look of raw need and vulnerability he saw in her eyes. He saw his own desire reflected in her eyes, and giving up any semblance of control, he lowered his head and kissed her.