The Rescue Of Jenna West Read online

He reached over her, picking up the remote to mute the movie. “Mace will find him, Jenna. Until he does, you’re safe. Ramsey doesn’t know where you are. He’ll never find you here.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  How could he argue with that? Irritation flickered at his helplessness, though he imagined it was small compared to what she must feel. “Mace will find him. Soon.”

  “Will he?” She turned her head and looked at him, her eyes bleak, ancient. “Will he find Ramsey before the sadistic scumbag finds me again?”

  Linc had never heard such hopelessness and he fought a growing rage, fueled by the same impotence he’d felt upon looking at Jenna’s battered body. He knew Mace was right and that he shouldn’t try to go after the bastard, but Linc once again considered how he could do just that.

  “I hate this,” she said with quiet vehemence. “I want to stalk him. I want him to know what it feels like to lose control, to lose his confidence, his sense of...self. I want him to know what this feels like.”

  “Jenna—”

  “I know,” she acknowledged bitterly. “I know I can’t do it. It’s not smart. And I wouldn’t even know how to go about it. But I want it all the same.”

  The helplessness, the forced retreat—Linc suddenly comprehended what these things must do to her. He wanted to tell her that it would all be over soon, but he didn’t know that.

  He only knew that the emptiness in her face propelled him to reach out and take her hand. She didn’t jump, didn’t pull away. Her gaze riveted on their joined hands and Linc realized he hadn’t asked if he could touch her. He’d just done it, thinking only of how he could comfort her, not of how she might perceive the gesture. He started to pull away.

  “No.” Her gaze lifted to his.

  In her eyes, Linc saw the same desire he felt, the same desire he’d tried to deny and ignore, the same desire that curled through him right now. Stunned by the curious invitation in her eyes, urged on by sensations that drowned his logic, he moved toward her.

  This was different than before.

  If she’d looked at him with fear or revulsion, he would’ve stopped right then. But she didn’t. Curiosity and want burned in her eyes. Just as those things burned through him.

  She lifted her head, her nostrils flaring delicately. Linc slowed, but didn’t stop. Her eyes were wide, wary, yet tentatively expectant. He wanted to give her time enough to run, if that’s what she wanted, but damn, he wanted to taste her, just once.

  She remained perfectly still, waiting for him. Her gaze searched his face, then dropped to his lips, lingering so long that his heart threatened to pump right out of his chest.

  Anticipation hooked into him and his arousal surged. He thought he should offer some reassurance that he wouldn’t hurt her, but he knew if she allowed this, his words wouldn’t be the reason why.

  Then...his lips brushed hers. She kept her eyes open, locked on his and the blue-green depths were dark with uncertainty.

  His throat tight, he whispered against her lips. “Tell me no, Jenna. If you don’t want this, tell me.”

  “I...will.”

  He froze, barely registering her words. She hadn’t refused, hadn’t bolted. Her breath caressed his lips, drawing him on a razor edge of need. Then his lips covered hers.

  Careful of the cut on her lips, he touched her lightly. No demands, just savoring the warm honey of her mouth.

  Jenna sat motionless, not breathing, not running from him, but offering no encouragement.

  Doubt stabbed at him. She didn’t want this. He shouldn’t have—damn!

  Her hands slid into his hair and her mouth opened tentatively, cautiously under his. He felt a shudder move through her. His breath jammed in his chest and for an instant, his mind blanked.

  After a long moment, her hands lowered to his shoulders, resting lightly, holding him there. Want flared through him and he fought the urge to haul her onto his lap.

  He increased the pressure of the kiss, not enough to hurt her, but he wanted inside, wanted to taste the dark heat of her. He cautioned himself to go slow, remember who she was, what she needed from him.

  Desire lashed at him, straining at his control. Slowly, gently he slid his arms around her and pulled her closer, letting her ease into the feel of him against her. Her heart beat a wild tattoo against his chest. Her breasts felt full and soft against him; her nipples puckered.

  A groan erupted inside him and he tamped it down, not wanting to scare her. He coaxed her gently with his tongue, touching the seam of her lips, teasing her until she opened tentatively.

  She gasped. The sound was part pleasure, part surprise and his nerves twitched like water on flame.

  Easy, he told himself. Don’t hurt her. Trembling with the effort to go slowly, his tongue slipped into her mouth, caressing the hot sleekness.

  Her arms tightened around his neck, then her tongue shyly brushed his. Unable to hold back this time, he groaned. He wanted to pull her onto his lap, press her hips into his, but he forced his arms to remain loose around her. No pressure. No demand.

  She stiffened. At first her resistance didn’t penetrate the sensations raging through his body. He angled his head, seeking a better fit, wanting to soak her into his skin.

  She pushed at him, whimpering in the back of her throat, insistent, then determined, desperate.

  The soft sound speared through his lust and he withdrew immediately. “I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m sorry.”

  Lifting shaking fingers to her lips, she gulped in a deep breath. “I’ve never—we shouldn’t have done that.”

  Damn. Linc’s heart sank and agony razored through him.

  “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Hell, I wasn’t thinking!”

  “Don’t, Linc. Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t just you.”

  “I didn’t stop when you asked.”

  She rose from the couch, the nightshirt riding up her firm thigh. Lightning flashed through the room, showing features that were now pinched with agony.

  Jenna hugged her good arm around her waist, pulling the material taut across her breasts, outlining in vivid detail the hard points of her nipples. Linc swallowed, forcing down the want that slashed through him.

  “We can’t do it again. It can’t go anywhere.”

  “It was just a kiss, Jenna.” He rose; too, concerned at the paleness of her face, the strange flatness threading her words.

  She stared blankly at the floor. “For now. For now it was just a kiss.”

  “I wouldn’t push you further than you wanted to go,” he said softly.

  “I know you wouldn’t want to.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Stung by a sudden thought, he asked, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No.”

  Even in the flickering light, he could see the waxy sheen of her skin. He ran a hand across his face, feeling miserable, wanting to apologize, but not wanting to make it worse for her. Regret and arousal tangled inside him. “I swear, I never meant—Look, Jenna, I know I went too far, too fast, but—did I scare you?”

  She hesitated, her eyes glittering brightly. “No.”

  “Did you like it? Just a little?” He grinned, hoping she would .admit to feeling what he had.

  Uncertainty flashed across her features. “Yes, but—”

  “I liked it a lot. And I’d like to do it again.”

  “No!” Panic sharpened her words and her head snapped up. Fear glittered in her eyes. “No, we can’t.”

  “You’re right This is too fast. I pushed you—”

  “Linc, stop.” Her voice shook. “It’s not you. It’s me. I can’t do this.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” He wanted to bite his tongue, but the frustration clawing through his body drove out the words.

  She stared at him for a long excruciating minute. The storm screamed around them, taunting him. Pain flashed through her eyes, then they darkened with resignation. “Can’t.”

  “I thought you did it pretty well
.” Shut up, Garrett. Just shut up. Still he watched her, wanting, needing to know if she’d felt even a fraction of the desire he had. Needing to know why she wouldn’t admit to it.

  She met his eyes, though he could see it cost her. “It will never go anywhere, Linc.”

  Her words were so final, so certain that they sparked another spurt of irritation. “Because that’s the way you want it? All right, I can accept—”

  “Because I’m frigid.”

  And she walked out.

  She left him standing in the living room, looking dazed and disbelieving.

  Touching trembling fingers to her lips, she allowed herself to relive the gentleness of Linc’s mouth, the minty, dark taste of him. His kiss had been so sweet, so searching yet possessive that tears had stung her eyes.

  And then she’d ruined it.

  I’m frigid. She couldn’t believe she had just blurted it out. But she had to tell him the truth. Part of her had been compelled by the desire not to encourage him; the other part had been spurred on by the powerful, reckless desire that had rushed through her body on a tongue of fire.

  “Jenna?” Linc’s voice came softly, achingly through the door. “Are you all right?”

  She swallowed on a hard lump. “Go away.”

  “That was quite a bombshell you dropped back there. I think we should talk about it.”

  “No.” She backed up a step, even though he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t touch her, couldn’t even see her. “I’m sorry I blurted it out that way, but it’s...true. You need to know that.”

  “We shouldn’t talk about something like this through the door.” Confusion deepened his voice. “Let me in. I promise not to crowd you.”

  That sultry baritone was soft, cajoling and Jenna found herself wanting to go to him, open the door and apologize. But she’d only told the truth.

  And right now, trembling with reaction from his kiss, pummeled on every side by the taunting presence of Ramsey, she couldn’t handle this discussion.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Go away.” She meant to sound firm, but her voice was whisper thin, bald with a plea. Just go away.

  “Jenna, I know you’re frightened. I know these feelings are...overwhelming.” He gave a short laugh. “Believe me, I know. But that was not the kiss of a frigid woman. I promise you—”

  “Linc, please.” Frustrated, appalled at what she’d said, she couldn’t face him. That kiss was just another thing, like Ramsey, that she was running from.

  She had responded to Linc’s kiss without fear, without second thought. She had never, ever responded to a man like that. And she couldn’t bear to see the hunger in his gray eyes turn to pity. As must surely be happening right now.

  “Jenna?” He knocked again. No yelling, no banging on the door, no commands. Just a quiet plea that nearly undid her.

  “Go away.”

  “Jenna—”

  “I’m not going to discuss it, Linc. I can’t.” She held her breath, waiting for him to try the door more forcefully, demand that she let him in. “Please.”

  After a long pause, she heard the scrape of his boots on the floor, then silence.

  He was gone. The relief she expected never came. Instead she was swamped by guilt and regret and an insane desire to go after him. But she stayed where she was.

  She had nothing to give. This was best. It was the only way.

  Frigid The word screamed through Linc’s mind. How the hell could a woman turn a man inside out with a kiss like that and really believe she was frigid?

  But Jenna did believe it. He’d seen the hopelessness, the bleakness in her eyes. She wasn’t frigid, but how could he convince her? He groaned in disgust. What made him think she would even want him to try?

  Three days later, the agony of some elusive loss still throbbed through her. Jenna knew she would have to face Linc and soon.

  She knew she couldn’t put off the discussion he obviously wanted to have. And that he deserved.

  But right now, on the way to Wilbur’s grave site, was not the appropriate time.

  Still, as she sat beside Linc in the back of Mace’s unmarked detective cruiser, Jenna dreaded it. The other night, Linc hadn’t pressed her, hadn’t returned to her room, hadn’t acted as if anything had passed between them. But since she’d joined him late this morning, he’d been quietly solicitous.

  She caught his gaze on her several times—intense, probing, speculative. But the pity she’d expected to see wasn’t there. While that thawed a frozen place deep inside her, Jenna knew it wasn’t enough. She knew they would have to discuss what she’d said, but not now. Not here.

  As the car rolled through the gates of the Memorial Park Cemetery and followed the winding path to the far south side bordered by woods, Jenna looked down at her borrowed yellow shirt and wilted khaki shorts. She wished she had something nicer to wear. Not because anyone would see her, but out of respect for Wilbur.

  The car rolled to a stop. After Mace declared the area safe and empty, Jenna stepped out of the car into the soggy heat. She took a couple of steps, then stopped, staring at the freshly turned grave blanketed with fresh flowers. A sob lodged in her chest.

  Wilbur had hired her on the spot after she’d graduated from veterinary school. He’d given her a start, not caring how green she was, never asking questions about why his new associate was so jumpy around men.

  She’d eventually confided in him about the rape and he’d never treated her as anything less than a daughter. He’d always given her his love, his loyalty.

  Her fingers gently grazed the bruises on her throat as she remembered Wilbur’s last words to her.

  I’m comin’, Jenna-girl. I’m comin’! Get away from her! Get away!

  He had helped her as he always did and it had cost his life.

  She pressed her knuckles to her lips, glad for the sharp stab of pain it caused, hoping it would stanch the agony welling up inside her.

  “Jenna?”

  Misery knifed through her. She turned toward Linc, shaking her head. “How can I ever make this up to his wife?”

  “She doesn’t blame you.”

  “Wilbur’s dead because of me. I can’t believe Ramsey would do that because of me.”

  “Jenna, torturing yourself won’t bring him back.” Linc’s quiet concern unraveled the last of her tenuous control.

  She gave a choked sob and tears spilled out.

  Compassion darkened his eyes and, careful of her cast, he drew her to him. Strong arms closed around her and Jenna felt the first warm stroke of peace over her soul.

  It was ridiculous, she thought even as her tears wet the front of Linc’s denim shirt. She’d pushed him away and yet here he was, offering comfort and support. The solid steadiness of his body.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  Pain turned his words ragged and she knew he hurt for her, for the loss of her friend. The realization made her feel a connection to Linc that before she had only ever felt for Steve.

  She wanted to be strong, capable, but right now she felt worn down, vulnerable. Yet as she stood with Linc, felt his breath stirring her hair, felt the warmth of his body mingle with hers, a new strength infused her. Grateful for the comfort and the friendship, Jenna steeled her nerves and pulled away from him.

  Wiping her eyes with her good hand, she suddenly found she couldn’t look at him. “I’ve made a mess of your shirt.”

  “It’s all right.” The deep conviction in his voice compelled her to look at him. He nodded. “It’s all right.”

  He was talking about more than the shirt; he was encouraging her, telling her he was there for her. Fresh tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Thanks.”

  She managed a weak smile, her cut lips stinging only slightly. Encouraged by the warmth in Linc’s eyes, she turned toward Wilbur’s grave.

  “I’ll stay here, unless you want me to come with you.”

  Grateful for Linc’s thoughtf
ulness, Jenna nodded and walked alone the several steps to the edge of her friend’s resting place.

  The anger that always seemed to hide behind the fear surfaced. Would the police ever catch Ramsey? If they did, would he go to prison, only to be released again one day to torment her further?

  The man deserved to die for what he’d done to Wilbur. And to lose his freedom the same way she had.

  Fighting back her tears, she curled her hands into fists and silently vowed to Wilbur that Ramsey would pay for what he’d done. Somehow he would pay.

  It was as if God had created a perfect day to bring Wilbur home. The August temperature was pleasantly warm instead of scorching. Sunshine flowed over the well-tended grounds, sparkled in the shooting water of a small, nearby fountain. Majestic oaks and maples spread welcoming arms, draping the manicured green grass in shadows.

  Wilbur had chosen a peaceful spot for his burial just as he had chosen for his home. Nestled on the edge of the cemetery, bordered by trees, the place was restful and serene. No closedoff spot in the middle of the grounds for Wilbur. He had preferred the openness of the woods.

  Goodbye, my dear friend Thank you so much for everything you gave to my life, for the very life you lost.

  Tears blurred her vision and she lifted her face to the sun, closing her eyes and soaking in the peace of the place, listening to the gentle twittering of birds in an effort to soothe her ragged nerves.

  But she only felt more vulnerable, more targeted. Her body ached, a constant reminder of Ramsey. Behind her, she could hear the rise and fall of Linc’s voice as he spoke to his brother. She knew where they stood, knew they watched her. Focusing on the sound of Mace’s and Linc’s voices, she tried to take comfort that she wasn’t alone. Yet a sudden tension prickled between her shoulder blades.

  She shifted, trying to dispel the sudden sense that someone watched her. Foreboding, relentless and insistent, pushed at her. Something was wrong.

  She opened her eyes, her gaze riveted on Wilbur’s grave as she willed away the feeling. It was normal to feel so uneasy after the attack. And especially on her first day outside since then.

  But the feeling of dread persisted, hovering, growing thicker in the peaceful quiet. Heavy, dark, menacing. The sensation strengthened as if someone telegraphed a threat to her. Her skin tingled. Cold sweat slicked her palms. Though she tried not to, Jenna scanned the edge of the woods yards away.