He inclines his head and his tone is cool. “Nolene.”
I hold back a sigh. These two are old enough to sort out their differences themselves. I do a quick scan of the area. No workers in sight. They’re probably out back with the animals. Good. I brush past Nolene and lean into the car. Amy lies white and still on the back seat, eyelids twitching, no doubt trapped in a rollercoaster loop of whatever nightmare triggers this terror of the dark.
Clamping down on a surge of emotion I don’t care to identify, I scoop Amy up and back carefully out of the RAV.
Ross’s eyes widen at the sight of Amy’s unconscious form. “Okay, what’s going on here?”
“Ross—”
“Who is she?” His gaze turns on me, a hint of an accusation in it. “What’s the matter with her?”
“Relax,” Nolene says, “she’s not dead.”
Ross ignores her, focusing on me. “What have you done to her?”
A flush of shame creeps up my neck, but I maintain his stare. “I know this doesn’t look good and I know I’ve got a lot of explaining to do, but right now I need you to hold off on the questions. Please.”
His expression is strained. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”
“I’m not asking you to like it. I’m asking you to trust me.”
The next few seconds pass tensely as we wait for Ross’s decision. At last, his voice grim, he says, “Take her inside. We’ll talk after you’ve got her settled. I need to see to the animals.”
And no doubt blow off some steam, I think as I watch him stride away.
Nolene grabs the bags from the car and follows me inside, Saba shadowing us. It requires some skillful sidestepping to navigate past the carpet of dogs stretched out on the cool gray slate of the entrance hall. Heads lift curiously and tails thump lazily as we pass.
There are two guest bedrooms. I put Amy in the room with a lock on the door and security bars on the windows.
“Saba, stay,” I instruct the German Shepherd hovering in the doorway. Immediately, he sits, his large head tilted quizzically to one side.
“You take the other room,” I say to Nolene.
“You can bunk with me,” she offers. “Save you the discomfort of sleeping on the couch.”
I hold her gaze. “I’ll take the couch.”
She stiffens, as though absorbing a blow. “If that’s the way you want it.” She disappears into her room.
I go to check on Amy. I can’t stop myself from staring at her, her fragile beauty like a fish hook, reeling me in to a feeling that comes too close to protectiveness. As my eyes sweep over her in a carefully assessing study, touching her all the places my hands can’t, I feel, despite an attack of conscience, the strong pull of attraction. Unbelievable. I’ve just added an incredibly dangerous complication to this whole scenario.
“Amy,” I call softly. Tendrils of blonde hair stick to her cheek. I brush them away.
She doesn’t respond. Sighing, I give her another dose of the sedative. I don’t want her waking up before I have a chance to talk to Ross and Mel.
Pulling a light quilt over her, I leave the room, locking the door behind me. I’m careful to leave a side light on. Then I go to find Ross.
41
KANE
––––––––
Ross folds his arms across his chest. “Amy can stay, but she won’t be a prisoner in this house.”
The three of us are huddled in Ross’s living room, the puddle of light from a table lamp highlighting loose threads on the carpet, the sky outside the bay window a moody gray, threatening an evening thunderstorm.
I filled Ross in on Amy’s kidnapping and the stunned expression still hasn’t left his face. Merele hasn’t yet returned from her shopping expedition and I’m grateful for the reprieve. It’s bad enough I have to contend with Ross’s obvious disappointment in me. I don’t want to be hit with the impact of Merele’s as well.
