"He wouldn't stop hitting me," she whispered, unable to help the quaver in her voice. "No matter what I said or did, he just wouldn't stop. I wanted him to burn in hell. I screamed it at him and... and he did. And even if I had been able to restrain my fire that day, I wouldn't have. He deserved the death he got. In some ways, he was more of a monster than Eleanor ever could be."
"One death doesn't make you a killer, Maddie," Jon said softly. "You were acting in self-defense, nothing more."
"But what if I've killed twice?"
He met her gaze steadily. "Twice?"
She nodded and licked her lips. "Some mistakes I seem destined to repeat. I was barely six the first time. My father was hitting my mother and I just wanted him to stop. I lit a fire. He did stop, but by then, the fire had gotten out of control. My brother died in the blaze."
"Come here." He rugged her forward and into his arms. It felt like a homecoming. "You're not a killer, no matter what you think. You never could be." She squeezed her eyes shut against the threat of more tears. In the midst of a nightmare she'd found a man she cared about—maybe even loved. And he would send her away from him without regret, simply because it was safer. But being safe was something she no longer wanted.
She turned in his embrace and met his gaze. His face was so close that his breath washed warmth across her lips and sent shivers of desire thrumming through her body. "Don't send me away. I need to be here." A slight smile tugged the corners of his mouth, and a hint of weariness momentarily warmed the coldness in his eyes. He reached up and gently brushed a stray curl away from her cheek, his touch trailing across her skin like fire.
"I have no choice. Eleanor will kill you in revenge for Hank, and that is something I just couldn't live with."
The catch in his voice made her heart sing. "Eleanor won't always be around."
"No. But someone like her will. You need a man you can make a life with, someone with whom you can raise children and grow old. I'm not that someone, Maddie. I can't be. I chose my path a long time ago, and it's far too late to change."
She saw the pain in his eyes and knew being with her was his dream as well, whether or not he was willing to admit it. She pulled her gaze away from his and stared out the window. "All I've ever wanted in my life is someone to love and understand me," she said softly. "You wouldn't think something so simple would be so hard to find."
"Ah, Maddie." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He might well have been branding her, so deep did the brush of his lips burn. "If I hadn't given my heart to my work a long time ago, it would be yours. But I have no room in my life now for anything else. And certainly no desire for it to change." She studied his face. There was an edge to his voice that made her wonder whom he was trying to convince—himself or her. But it was the determination in his eyes that told her it was pointless to argue with him.
How ironic that she'd gotten her wish—the chance to have him hold her one more time—only to discover that she wanted a whole lot more. She looked across to her own bed. Half hidden by the growing darkness, it looked uninviting and solitary—like so much of her life. But it was a pattern she desperately wanted to break.
She had tonight, if nothing else. This was her chance to finally take a stand and do something she wanted to do, instead of merely drifting along, following the wishes and desires of others. And what she wanted, more than anything, was to lie in the warm security of Jon's arms for the rest of the night. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and ran her fingers across the golden hairs on his chest, placing her hand over his heart. Its unsteady rhythm matched her own.
"Sleep with me," she whispered softly.
His smile was something she felt deep inside. "Anytime. But I'm afraid sleeping is all I'm up to. I have to keep the leg as still as possible."
"Sleeping will do." Any time spent in his arms would be better than nothing. And at least it would give her a memory to hold on to when she left in the morning.
All she had to do then was figure out how she was going to find Teresa without his help.
Sixteen
Jon jerked awake. For several minutes he stared into the darkness, listening to the wind howl past the windows. Maddie was pressed warmly against his side, her breath a whisper stirring the hairs across his chest. Nothing else disturbed the silence, yet something didn't feel right.
"What is it?" Her murmur ran heat past his chin as she glanced up. Maybe the odd sound had been nothing more than his imagination. He ran his finger down her cheek then across the lips he longed to kiss. Maybe what had woken him was the ache of holding her so close and being unable to do anything about it. "Nothing. It's probably just the storm." She made a sound close to a sigh, then jumped as a floorboard creaked. Her fingers clenched against his chest. "That nothing is moving around in the bathroom."
It certainly sounded as if something was. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it lightly. "I'll go check."
Though he couldn't see the fear in her eyes, it ran like fire through her emotions. "What about your leg?"
"It'll be fine. Just wait here." He slid his arm out from under her and rose. The darkness surrounded him, as heavy as a cloak. He limped forward, his leg stiff and awkward. But at least he could walk. A few hours ago that wouldn't have been possible.
The bathroom door creaked as he opened it. He cursed silently and hit the light switch. The sudden brightness made him blink, but nothing scurried into the corners of the room. He limped in and looked around. The small window was locked, and everything else seemed undisturbed. It had to be just the storm.
"Anything?" Her warm voice held a slight tremor. He glanced back at her. She was lying in the bed with the blankets pulled up around her nose. All that was visible was the amber fire of her eyes, sparking brightly as they reflected the bathroom light. A sudden surge of desire caught him by surprise. How was he going to share the bed for the rest of the night and not touch her?
"It's just the wind," he said and switched off the light. He hobbled to the end of the bed then stopped. She watched him steadily, and he could almost taste the desire beginning to stir the bright swirl of her emotions. He couldn't lie down with her again and not touch her. And he had a horrible feeling that if he did touch her, he wouldn't want to let her go. He thrust a hand through his hair. "Maybe I should sleep in the other bed."
"Why?"
The slight huskiness in her voice sent heat racing to his loins and practically shot his good intentions all to hell. "It's safer, that's why," he muttered.
Safer for him, safer for her. Because she deserved more than he'd ever be able to give her.