Page 29 of Closer Than You Know

It hit her then that with the lights on in her room and him sitting in the dark out there, he could see her clearly. Oh God. He’d probably seen her underwear when she bent over to pick up the water.

“An oldie but goody,” she said, trying to sound nonplussed as she settled on the window’s deep ledge once more.

Silence filled the air for a long moment. The lack of talking had never bothered her, or him. They’d spent long minutes just listening to each other breathe.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong.”

She moistened her lips. “Sure.”

“I could come in, you know. Sleep on the couch.”

He’d done that more than once back in July when all hell broke loose with that damned cave.

The words ... words she knew better than to say ... crowded into her throat. How many times since July had she wanted so damned badly to ask him to stay the night ... not on the sofa downstairs but right here in her bed? How many hours had she spent daydreaming about how Bent the man might make love? The memory of how the twenty-one-year-old made love was seared on her brain. No imagination was necessary to envision his body now. Twenty years in the military had given him the patience and endurance of a warrior. He had a great body. She’d seen him without a shirt more than once.

She ran her fingers through her hair just to have something to do with them. She didn’t know why she did this to herself. She was a grown woman. If she wanted to have sex with the man, she should just do it.

Except the one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that if she did, there would be no turning back. She recognized with complete certainty that it would change everything.

“I’m fine,” she said, the breathless quality in her voice immensely frustrating. “Good night, Bent.”

“Night, Vee.”

The call ended, but she didn’t move. She sat there and watched him drive away, the urge to call him back and invite him to come inside a pulsing, throbbing need.

When he was gone, she got up, walked to the bed, and collapsed onto it.

The thought of how much she wanted something more than the emptiness she felt at that moment followed her into the darkness of sleep.

12

Nolan couldn’t stay awake.

He tried. He tried so hard.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

His mouth was so dry he could barely swallow. His arms and legs hurt. He’d been secured this way for too long. He needed to move.

He needed to talk to the person who had brought him here.

Good God, was Joel okay? Had he hurt Joel?

His father would say he had been asking for something bad to happen. After all, what intelligent, rational person responded to a letter tucked under the wiper on his windshield?

He’d wanted this story so bad.

His tongue slid over his dry lips once more. That’s all. The story. His big break. No one else had a clue what was happening with the Time Thief. This had been his big chance to move up.

Except now he wasn’t so sure.

The man, woman, whatever hadn’t said a single word to him. He’d felt the prick of a needle more than once. The drug kept him so far out of it that he could hardly open his eyes.

This was the Time Thief’s MO. And if this was the Time Thief, like the message had said, then he should let Nolan go in the next twenty-four hours. His parents were probably worried sick. Liam ... God, Liam would be tormented.

His mother would completely understand his need to take this risk. Liam too. But his father ... his father would be very disappointed in his carelessness.

Nolan drew in a deep breath. At least he was alive. Thank God for that.

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