Assumed Identity - By Julie Miller Page 0,58
case something happens.”
“All right.” Giving up her insistence on civility, Robin left the room. She came back a minute later with pillows, sheets and a quilt. She unfolded one of the sheets to cover the couch, and set the rest of the bedding on top, letting him decide just how civilized he wanted to be tonight. “I owe you more than you can know for the peace of mind you give me by being here. Someday I hope you’ll let me repay...” A clear conscience was the only payment he’d asked for, and this time she let the subject die. “I know. Good night.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she circled the coffee table, braced her hand at the center of his chest and stretched up on tiptoe to press a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. Her eyes sought out his before she gave him another kiss, just as tender, just as sweet. It was the gentlest, most beautiful touch he could remember and he couldn’t help but move his lips against hers.
As raw and passionate as that kiss at her shop had been, this one warmed and healed. The sweet, soothing connection tamed something raw inside him. It pulled him from the lonely curse he’d lived with for far too long. When the first sizzle of heat entered the kiss, Robin dropped to her heels and pulled away.
“Good night, Jake.”
Yeah. He wanted more than the satisfaction of knowing he’d done all he could to help these two damsels in distress. He wanted a thousand more kisses like that. He wanted to learn how to change a diaper. He wanted what other men had—a good woman, a beautiful child. Laughter. Love. A real home. But he wasn’t other men. So he let Robin walk to her room and close the door without voicing the wishes stirring in his heart.
* * *
THE NIGHTMARE HAD him at its mercy again.
Wheezing through the pain that seared him inside and out, Jake crouched in the darkness. “You have to stop him.”
A hazy apparition moved in the shadows, a faceless threat he had to destroy. He flipped the knife into his hand and hurled it. With a choking scream, the apparition sank into the darkness.
Just like that, his enemy was dead. But there were other threats in the shadows. If he couldn’t find them all, people would die. He’d seen so much death. He couldn’t survive another.
“Jake?”
He heard the soft voice calling to him through the mists and death of his dream.
“Robin.” He had to save her.
He couldn’t think through the heat and the pain, couldn’t claw his way out of the darkness to get to her.
“Don’t hurt her.” Now the gun was in his hand and he was running. His lungs were burning, his shoulder bleeding. He wasn’t fast enough.
He wiped the sweat from his eyes and caught a glimpse of pale skin and rich brown hair. She reached out to him, but those sweet, gray-blue eyes were so afraid.
“Jake?”
Shadows from every corner of his mind rushed at her, knocked her down, consumed her. “Robin!”
He raised his gun, stroked his finger against the trigger. But he had no target. He was losing her. He was too late. He couldn’t save her.
“Ken?”
The darkness exploded around him. Fire seared through his flesh. Terror ripped through his heart. He moaned through his despair.
She was gone. Everything that mattered was gone.
And then he heard the baby crying. He crawled toward the sound. He peered into the flames of his burning world and saw the shadows again, emerging, one by one, darting toward that heartbreaking cry.
Jake pushed to his feet. They couldn’t have her. He was the man who saved people. He couldn’t fail again.
“Otto? Please.”
He followed the baby’s cries through the flames and the darkness. “I’m coming,” he muttered. “I’m coming.”
He reached the shadows and dove into the heart of their blackness. They shifted their target and came at him—pummeling, pulling, cutting, killing.
“Go,” he whispered, taking on death itself to save that innocent life. “Be safe.”
“Lonergan!”
Jake came awake on a voiceless roar and lunged at his attackers. He caught one by the shoulders and flipped him to the ground beneath him.
“Jake!”
He knew that voice. Not a threat, but a hope. A wish. He shook his head to clear the shadows from his mind and orient himself in the hazy darkness. Red-and-white checks. Short, dark hair. He blinked. “Robin?”
He blinked again and saw her slender body pinned to her sofa by his big hands and lower body. He saw the