“No, but you might.”
“This isn’t about me, not this time. What’s got you so afraid?”
She gazed into his eyes and their too-close proximity had him glancing at her mouth.So fucking enticing.So. Damn. Infuriating.
“When I was a kid, my brother and I got trapped in our basement during a kitchen fire that spread fast. I was terrified. There were no windows and the smoke was coming in through the closed door. The firemen had to break it down to get us out.”
“That’s rough. Anyone hurt?”
“Nothing beyond smoke inhalation. We were lucky. That was the beginning of my claustrophobia. After the house was repaired, we moved back in. My mom and dad had the basement redesigned with a door leading outside and two windows. But I never played down there again.”
“Did you talk to someone about it?”
“I’ve gotten good at avoiding the problem altogether.” Breaking eye contact, she stared into her lap. “Someone close to me passed away suddenly and I was having a hard time…you know…coping with… well, everything.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded, but wouldn’t look at him. Her hair had fallen over her cheek, hiding her face. He wanted to brush it away and tuck it behind her ear, kiss her sultry lips and take away her pain. But he kept his hands, and his mouth, to himself.
“My therapist has been great. Even though the claustrophobia is unrelated, I’d mentioned it to her. She’s been helping me—or trying, anyway. I’m sorry I’m making this difficult for you.”
“I needed that apology a year and a half ago,” he murmured.
She stilled, their gazes locked on each other.
The overwhelming urge to kiss her had him biting back a growl. He needed air…or to get as far away from her as possible. This woman was bringing him to his knees and all she’d done was show a little vulnerability.
“I…um…I. This isn’t gonna—” She stopped.
An idea took root. “Look,Detective, we don’t like each other and don’t want to work together. Go ahead and take off. I’ll spend as much time as I can over the next several months—five minutes here and there—” She gasped. “I’ll let you know if I find anything. Lemme walk you out.”
She bolted to her feet. “No! I can do this,” she said, and flew down the stairs. As she entered his office, she let out a half scream, half cry.
On his way down, he clamped down on a smile. He would keep her so busy, she’d forget all about being in a secure, windowless room.
Pushing her away was not what he wanted to do. He wanted her in his arms while he kissed the hell out of her. He wanted her in his damn bed, moving beneath him. But his gamble had paid off. Pissing her off had lit a fire inside her. Her iron-willed nature was the bait he needed to get her ass into his private workspace.
He guided her to a chair and she dropped into it. He eased down beside her and fired up the console. She was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering and her forehead glistened with perspiration.
“Doing okay?” he asked.
After typing in the series of passwords, all six monitors on the wall burst to life. He clicked to the surveillance three days prior to April’s last day.
Emerson put her hand over her heart. “I can’t catch my breath.”
She was a greenish white. He scooped her up, grabbed a bottle of water, carried her to the far corner of the spacious room and laid her on the bed. Rather than leave her, he sat on the edge and held her hand. “Do you know Tantric breathing?”
“No.”
“Put your hand on your diaphragm,” he instructed. When she did, he said, “Breathe in and feel your diaphragm fill with air.” Stryker inhaled this way. After a breath, she mimicked him.
As they breathed in sync, he stroked her hand with his thumb. Soft, gentle caresses to help her calm down. They seemed, however, to be having the opposite effect on him.
“We’re in a safe space,” he said. “You can leave whenever you want.”
She gazed up at him. “I want.”
I want, too. So. Damn. Badly.She had the power to send all his demons away. Every fucking problem would fade to black. Her face, that body. Their bodies gliding as one.
