Nowhere Safe

CHAPTER 38



Trish flopped on her side again, tired, but not enough to sleep soundly. She’d battled the half-asleep stage of insomnia for the past four hours. A buzzing near her head pushed her from groggy to wide-awake.

Her cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. Maybe Angel had gone into labor. Trish swiped up the phone, noted the time was just before two in the morning–as in Sunday already–and she needed sleep.

She didn’t recognize the phone number, but it was a Miami area code so she punched the talk button. “Hello?”

“Resting well in your snazzy suite?” The mechanical voice buzzed through the lines.

Thump, thump, thump. Her heart went double time.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you left town?”

“Who are you?” she pleaded. “What do you want?” Dear God, please make this stop.

“Oh, I do want something and you’re going to help me.”

Trish rolled onto her back and scooted up to sit against the headboard, her shaking legs bent at the knees. “If you won’t tell me what you want, I’m not listening to you anymore.” Trish moved the phone from her ear to switch it off until she heard, “Wrong move, Trish!”

She clutched the phone back to her ear and squeezed her eyes shut. “Why are you doing this?”

“A good chess player never gives up, even an alcoholic would know that.”

“Chess? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“You will, you will. In the meantime, don’t let lover boy come between us.”

Josh. This maniac was threatening him.

Trish hissed, “I refuse to play your game.”

“You don’t have a choice. By the way, in chess this is called check.”

AA

Josh kept the bedroom door ajar in his vigilance to watch over Trish. The fourth time he sat up to check the clock, he heard soft footsteps padding across the living room.

Should he stay put and give her privacy?

The distinct tinkle of ice hitting glass ended his debate.

He stepped into his jeans then quietly eased into the joint living area. Ambient light filtering through the window from outside cast the room in soft shadows.

Trish stood at the wet bar he hadn’t given a thought to since arriving. She stared down at the counter, a glass with ice next to a miniature one-shot bourbon bottle.

Cap off. Empty.

Josh closed his eyes, fighting a wave of disappointment–for her, not himself–so strong he felt it in his knees. He looked at her again. She hadn’t moved and this time he could see the glass was still full. Relief swamped him.

“You don’t want to do that, Trish.”

“How do you know? You’re not an...an alcoholic.”

Simple words, but each one slashed his heart.

“You’re right,” he said, swallowing against the tangle of emotions he struggled to contain. “I have no idea about the battle you fight each day. But I know the warrior in you who won’t quit. I know the woman who turned her world around, the one who trains hard physically and mentally so she can kick ass at everything she does. The one who loves her brother and life too much to give up now.”

Trish’s head snapped up at the mention of her brother. She wrapped a hand across her eyes that slid to her mouth.

Josh searched for something to take her pain away, but nothing as simple as a word could heal hurt that deep. When she drew a deep breath that came out sounding full of misery, he gave in to the gut-wrenching need and crossed the room to wrap his arms around her.

When Trish turned to him and threaded her arms around his waist, a dam of emotions broke inside him. He hugged her as tight as he could without hurting her, and rubbed a hand up and down her back to soothe her. Her body shook but that was the only sign of the internal battle she waged.

What had happened? Why now after all she’d been through?

He had the sudden insight that it could be him. His presence. His fault. Shit.

He waited, holding her until she quieted. Trish raised eyes glistening with tears on thick eyelashes.

Josh kissed her forehead. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I got a call.” Her fingers tightened on his arms. “From the stalker.”

Just five minutes–that’s all he wanted with the bastard terrorizing her. “What did he say?”

“Same stuff like the notes.” She worked a hand free to rub her nose.

Josh wouldn’t release her. Couldn’t. He reached over and snagged a paper towel for her. “Tell me exactly what the caller said.”

She hesitated a moment then recited the call, stopping to think a moment then finishing.

He had the feeling she’d edited the words, but he wouldn’t push her now. She might have sounded hesitant because she was rattled and not sure of what she’d heard.

“I don’t know what he, she, it wants. The voice always sounds synthesized or mechanical. Nothing makes sense. All these references to chess.”

Another move by the Chessmaster, but he couldn’t tell Trish about that. He had the feeling something about the call tonight had pushed Trish further than the notes or the text had. Something she wasn’t admitting.

If Josh had his hands on the stalker at this moment he would choke him to death. “This is going to end, sweetheart.” He just worried about how it would end.

She stepped out of his embrace, hands fisted and eyes flashing with fire. “Get dressed.”

“For what?” he asked, a little wary.

“Just do it.” She stalked into her bedroom, tossing over her shoulder, “Shorts or warm ups.”

Not sure what to say to that, he changed to shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes then met her in the living room where she showed up in an athletic bra, pink tank top and workout pants...carrying a pair of pink-and-white kickboxing gloves. Whoa.

He followed her to the gym on the top floor of the hotel where one lonely soul ran on a treadmill at two in the morning.

Trish stretched then took a look around and zeroed in on a heavy bag hanging at the opposite end of the room from the treadmills.

Josh did a few stretches, but kept Trish in view. He was glad to know he wasn’t her target. She warmed up slow with a jab, jab cross, changing the rhythm and hitting at face level, then chest, then bending her knees to strike at groin level. Ouch.

He stopped stretching and circled her, watching her technique. “Good form.”

“How did you know about my training?” Jab, cross, jab jab. Sweat formed on her forehead.

Shit. He considered it for two seconds, then said, “I saw you. With Arnie.”

She paused and looked at him. Not a word, but a stare that loaded him up with guilt.

“I told you I was investigating–”

“After I asked you.”

He took a deep breath, but held her gaze, letting her see that he was being straight with her. “Yeah. I followed you the morning you met up with Arnie in the warehouse.”

She took a few seconds to process that, then nodded. “So you know a lot more about me than I realized, and you know I’m not just talking when I say I train.” A tiny muscle in her jaw jumped when she clamped her lips tight.

“Yes. And you have good instincts. The best instincts can be fooled by trained operatives. We’re an evil aberration, but your instincts are sound. I wanted you to know ...Arnie missed it, but you didn’t. When you felt like somebody was watching you, you were right. You would’ve nailed me. Looked right at where I was hidden. It was... impressive.”

Her cheek muscle softened.

He wasn’t sure how much she’d talk about her war with alcohol so he asked, “This…” he gestured at the bag. “Does it help, when you want to drink?”

“Usually.” She turned back to the bag and started punching again, picking up a little speed every five to six hits until she was punishing the thing. Fine dark hairs clung to her damp neck.

Josh moved to a weight bench a few feet away and did a few arm curls while he let her battle her demons, watching as she worked through her kick combinations, then moved back to punches and turned up the heat, attacking with rapid bursts until she finally grabbed the bag and leaned her head against it. Breathing hard. Muscles quivering.

The runner at the other end killed the treadmill, wiped it down and walked out, leaving them alone.

Josh gave Trish another moment then walked back to where she stood. “Done?”

She pushed away from the bag and turned to him, eyes brighter than before. “Never. This beast will always haunt me, but it won’t win. Every time I’ve gotten that close to letting the alcohol win, I’ve gone to the gym to fight the beast inside me.”

When she lifted her hands to undo her gloves, he reached over and tugged one arm to him. She raised her eyes to his, thinking, then finally relaxed while he pulled the glove off first one hand, then the other.

The he lifted both hands to his lips and kissed the red knuckles. Who was this woman who drew him in more by the minute? The scent of her warm body, damp with perspiration, called out to his, reminded him of what they’d shared hours ago. He let go of her hands. “You amaze me.”

She stepped up close to him and kissed him, holding herself back as if she thought he’d be turned off by a sweaty woman. Really? He pulled her sweat-slick body into his arms and kissed her back.

He wanted to promise her everything would work out, but too many unknowns still existed. With Trish next to his heart, the world felt right.

Now, if he could just keep her safe.

Her tongue played with his in a sensual dance.

It felt like weeks instead of hours since they’d made love. He missed her that much when she wasn’t near him. He wanted her even closer, skin-to-skin, in his bed.

But he was not going there after what she’d been through tonight.

She pulled back. “Now we both need a shower.”

Could she mean... “I’m not complaining.”

“Then you won’t mind washing my back?”

Damn, the woman read minds, too.