neck. Instead, he sucked in a breath. Picked up his cat and stroked her back. It didn’t soothe the enormity of his rage, but after a moment, he could think. Lifting the phone back to his ear, he said quietly, “Have you found out who she is?”
“No. The identity trail just stops. I’m not searching—”
“No,” Patrick cut in. “You’re not. Come out to the mansion. I have some of her personal belongings. Run her prints. Find out who she is. Where she is. And once you know . . . you let me know.”
* * *
LYING there on the bed, curled around her, Joss was almost convinced that this was everything he’d ever need.
But when he leaned in to press his lips to her shoulder, those shields were still there. Still solid and cool and impenetrable. Sighing, he buried his face against her hair.” Why are you still shutting me out?”
She stroked a hand down his arm. “It’s easier that way, lover,” she murmured.
“Easier. Easier how?”
One silent moment stretched out into another, and then finally, she rose.
Joss sat up, staring at her.
He’d wanted to make love to her again, but somehow, he didn’t think that would be happening just yet. And soon, he had to figure out where Jones was, get his ass back on the job. But this first.
“You don’t really want me to stop shutting you out, Joss,” Dru said as she rose from the bed.
As she started to get dressed, he studied her. “And why is that?”
A bitter smirk twisted her lips. “Because once you’ve heard the entirety of what I’ve had to do since I started working this job, you . . .” Her voice hitched. She paused in the middle of putting her bra on, pressing her lips together. She lowered her head, her shining dark hair falling to shield her expression.
When she looked back at him, her expression was as remote, distant as the sun. “You won’t want me anymore. I can tell you that.”
“Nothing could make that happen,” he rasped.
“Hmm.” She tugged on her shirt. As she snagged her running tights from the ground, he stood up and went to her.
“Why don’t we put that to the test?” he said quietly, taking the tights away and tossing them on the back of the nearby couch. He cupped her face in his hands. “Stop blocking me out. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and I’ve spent my entire life waiting for you . . . looking for you. Nothing is going to change that.”
“Are you so certain?” she asked, her voice raw.
“Try me.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “You’ll regret this, Joss. You really will. But I can’t hide what I’ve done . . . what I am.”
As her shields dropped, he fell into the very soul of her.
And his heart broke.
* * *
FLASH, flash, flash.
She felt it as her terror flooded him.
Her shame.
The pain. The times she let herself get hit. The first time Patrick had forced her. And the night she’d made the decision not to let him do it again, when she’d taken the choice into her hands . . . and away from him.
The shame of it tried to choke her, but she shoved it back. What I did, I did for a reason. She could all but hear herself screaming it inside her head. She might hate it, and she might wish it hadn’t come to pass, but she’d done what was necessary.
Her heart pounded with each memory that flashed between them. It had never been this intense before. She wasn’t just taking in his memories . . . that was what was supposed to happen. He was taking in hers, and she’d never had a dual exchange like this. She’d never felt anybody’s reaction when she’d done this before.
And she didn’t want to feel it—instinctively, she tried to jerk away. She couldn’t feel his disgust, couldn’t feel him pull away like she knew he was going to do. No . . .
But he wouldn’t let her.
A raw, anguished cry left him.
They crashed to the ground. She felt the floor bite into her knees. Felt his hands grip her face, and she stared at him through a veil of tears, desperate to break the contact before . . . no no no no . . .
And then it was over and he was staring at her, his black eyes burning. She could almost see the flames in his eyes as he stared at her.