Angel in Waiting Page 4
Hours later, he still alternated between stretching out on the bed and pacing the tight confines of the claustrophobic space while waiting for Elle to fall asleep. He had no idea what she was doing since she held a tight rein on her thoughts even though she was alone. He didn’t understand it. Perhaps the years of close proximity to Katrina McAllister with her psychic and empathic gifts made it second nature. It was an unusual talent in a human. A talent Dimitri decided he didn’t care for in the least.
Chapter Four
After soaking for nearly an hour Elle climbed out of the cooling bath, slipped into her nightie, and parked herself in the uncomfortable wooden chair with a bottle of water and a couple of protein bars. It wasn’t dinner at the Waldorf, but she had no intention of leaving the hotel until morning, and the place didn’t have room service. It would have to do. Retrieving a crumpled paper from the pocket of her jeans, she smoothed it out on the table in front of her. The message actually included a return address, as if there was any chance she could ever forget the location of John Gatewick’s Little Shop of Horrors. Tears blurred the words, and bile rose to scald her throat. She knew better than to believe a word of it. He missed her desperately…even as he plotted to capture her. She wasn’t his beloved child. She was an anomaly created in a petri dish. She shoved the note aside and tore into the wrapper of her improvised meal.
Chewing until her jaw ached, Elle pointed the remote in the direction of the television and clicked listlessly through the channels. Occasionally, she flicked a glance in the direction of the hulking four-hundred count, sheeted enemy dominating the room, mocking her with neat hospital corners. She wanted to sleep. She needed to sleep. She had little hope she actually would. The nightmares lay in wait and tonight she would wake up to a silent, empty darkness. No creaking leather, no Columbian dark roast scenting the air. No Dimitri. She hadn’t realized until now how much she depended on the certainty of his presence when she woke, to give her the courage to close her eyes at night.
When both hands on the clock pointed to twelve, and her ass had gone numb from its long sojourn on the unforgiving seat, Elle finally screwed up her nerve and shuffled over to the bed. Turning down the covers, she climbed in with the enthusiasm of a death row inmate being strapped in the electric chair. She fluffed a pillow and slammed her fist into it, creating a pocket for her head. When that failed to produce a comfortable spot, she flipped it, repeated the process, and then tossed the mangled sack of feathers to the floor followed closely by two more. The last pillow proved as uncooperative as the first three. With a groan of frustration, she gathered them all together, tossed them in a heap at the head of the bed and collapsed on top of them.
She tossed, she turned, she moaned, she groaned. At last, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her overnight bag. Digging out the black T-shirt, she dragged it over her head, tossing aside the satin nightgown she’d been wearing. The damn shirt hung to her knees and was wide enough to go around her twice. Hugging the soft fabric against her skin, she gathered a handful in her fist and held it to her nose. She drew in a deep breath, hoping it still carried a hint of Dimitri’s scent. Instead, the April fresh aroma of her laundry detergent made her sneeze. Still, it was better than nothing. Burrowing down into her nest of pillows, she pulled the sheet to her chin, curled into a tight ball, and squeezed her eyes shut.
****
About freakin’ time! Dimitri shoved his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and settled it across his shoulders. He’d about given up on the gray, swirling thought patterns indicating Elle had passed into the realm of dreams. His utter boredom made it an effort to keep his own eyes open. Between the hours sitting with Elle, and his nightly hunting expeditions, he’d been getting most of his shut-eye during the day. Today, he hadn’t had a chance to put his head down, and fatigue dogged his every movement.
Hoping the set-up in Elle’s room mirrored the one he currently occupied, he faded next door while bracing to catch himself should he stumble over anything unexpected. Luckily he calculated correctly, and there was ample space to materialize right inside the door with the bathroom to his right.
Illuminated by the flickering, blue glow of the muted television, Elle slept curled up like a kitten on one side of the enormous bed surrounded by what looked like a pillow fort. Her long, dark hair tumbled around her delicate features like a curtain of silk. She’d kicked off the blankets, and her bare legs tangled in the sheets causing his T-shirt to ride up over one hip, which offered a teasing glimpse of smooth skin and lacy black panties. His T-shirt? He refused to speculate on why seeing her wrapped in his shirt caused an increase in his pulse. She’d sneaked away without a word to Kat, or him, or anyone. For all he knew, she could be conspiring against them. He looked at her again, the dark fan of her lashes against her pale skin, her little fist tucked under her cheek, her knees pulled up as though she wanted to make herself as small and inconspicuous as possible, even in sleep. This woman was light years away from the smart and sassy extrovert the public knew. He heaved a heavy sigh. No matter how he tried to spin it, he knew she wasn’t the enemy. She was running scared. He couldn’t say why he was so certain, but he was. He just needed to figure out who or what she was running from. Then he could fix it and return to his own predictable world where seeing her wrapped up in his shirt as if she was trying to keep a piece of him close didn’t twist like a knife in his gut. Hell, maybe he was reading too much into it. She’d probably just been in a hurry and forgotten to pack a nightgown. His gaze zeroed in on a puddle of peach satin next to the bed. Okay, maybe not.
Dimitri sought her mind and found nothing except convoluted, foggy scenes of unfamiliar people and places. He never paid much attention to her dreams, not wishing to invade her privacy. He only intruded when the nightmares began, hoping to somehow erase the memories evoking such fear and pain. But some trauma was too much for even an Earthbound to eradicate, and thus far, he hadn’t even been able to soften the images that haunted her.
Keeping his mind linked loosely to hers in order to detect the nightmares when they began, he carefully sidestepped along the foot of the bed and squeezed toward the table at the window. He bit back a curse and froze as his leg bumped the bed frame, jarring the mattress. Elle mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over. Hardly daring to breath, he finally made it to the other side of the room without further mishap. Removing his jacket, he folded it over the back of one chair, and then gingerly lowered his body into the other. The small rickety furniture immediately groaned in protest.
Dimitri jumped to his feet and glared at the chair. No way would that pile of matchsticks support someone his size for the next several hours. He glanced at the wrinkled paper on the table, pulling it closer and squinting to read it in the meager light from the television. Your loving father? Kat McAllister had said both she and Elle only had each other. Apparently, Elle and her father were estranged. Is that where she was headed? Then why all the subterfuge and sneaking around? It made no sense, but maybe it was something she had difficulty talking about. Lord knows, he had a few of those issues himself. With a shrug, he shoved the note back to the center of the table and straightened.
Propping a shoulder against the wall, he eyed the bed. It was huge—a California King, if he wasn’t mistaken—and Elle was a small woman who didn’t need much room. He might even be able to snag a pillow without her being any the wiser. The bed would be a helluva lot more comfortable than sitting up in that piece of shit that creaked loud enough to wake the dead every time he twitched.
Awkwardly balancing on first one foot and then the other, Dimitri tugged off his boots. After stuffing his socks inside, he shoved them under the table. He hesitated for a moment and then pulled his T-shirt off too, yanked his belt from the loops of his leathers, and set his keys and wallet on the table. He might as well be comfortable for a change. He left his pants on in the unlikely event Elle woke up and discovered him in her bed. Not that he expected she would. In all the weeks he
’d been watching her, she slept like the dead until the nightmares hit.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, he eased down onto the mattress. Lifting first one leg and then the other, he finally stretched out full length, careful to stay right along the edge. The bed was so big Elle looked like she was on the other side of town. She hadn’t stirred. She also hadn’t surrendered a single pillow. Carefully, he stretched across the vast expanse of mattress and snagged a loose corner of one pillowcase and gently tugged it free. He released the breath he’d been holding, stuffed his prize behind his head, and closed his eyes.
Dimitri’s eyes flew open, his lungs struggling for breath, his chest burning. It took him a second to get his bearings and remember where he was. Always before he’d watched the nightmare in Elle’s mind in much the same way he would view a movie. This time he must have dozed off with his mind still linked to hers and somehow gotten sucked in.
He was an ancient warrior who’d seen more horrors than most people could imagine, yet the brief immersion into her nightmare had been beyond even his experience. How did she stand it night after night? Elle whimpered in her sleep, and he moved closer. Unable to stop himself, needing to offer her comfort, he reached out a hand to smooth the damp, tangled hair away from her face. His fingers brushed the petal softness of her cheek, and she turned to nuzzle his palm. Dimitri froze, and then slowly pulled back his hand. Elle followed the movement instinctively, rolling in his direction until her body came right up against him. She slung a bare leg over his and draped an arm across his stomach. The moment she touched him, the gray, swirling patterns indicative of restful sleep and normal dreams returned. His heart pounded in his ears, and his mouth went dry. Her nightmares had disappeared at his touch.
Dimitri lay as still as stone, struggling to ignore the warm, moist breath fanning his skin where Elle’s cheek rested against his side. His brain had been completely on board with his plan to disregard the bond drawing them together but, if the sudden tightness in his groin and the hot flush creeping over his skin were any indication, his body was ignoring his good intentions completely. He shifted slightly to ease his growing discomfort, and she burrowed even closer into his side. He risked a glance at her face and all of the logical reasons he’d been selling himself for walking away struck him as utterly selfish. For the first time in the many weeks he’d been with her, Elle’s expression bore no strain, no tension, and no fear. So many lives he’d been powerless to save, powerless to change. He couldn’t change her mortality, but what if he could offer her freedom from her demons? Did he still have the right to walk away just to avoid his own eventual heartache? Scarred, battle hardened, disillusioned, Dimitri Radchenko knew he was no bargain for any woman. He wondered if a woman like Elle Gates would consider him a fair exchange for peace.
“Dimitri?” Her voice was a sleepy whisper.
“It’s just a dream, baby. Go back to sleep.”
“M’kay,” she mumbled and plastered herself even more closely against his side.
Taking a deep breath, Dimitri carefully lowered his arm and rested his hand on her nearly naked hip. Gritting his teeth against the silky texture of her skin, he pulled her into him. She sighed softly, and his heart twisted, battling a war between contentment and consternation. Elle Gates was human, fragile, doomed, her limited lifetime a blip on the radar of his long existence. Nothing but pain awaited him. And hell, considering she was human, there were no guarantees the bond had any effect on her at all. This attraction could be all one sided. Still, in this time, at this moment, he couldn’t deny it. Holding her in his arms and thinking of her as his felt…right.
Mac’s wife had put her faith in Dimitri to keep her friend safe, and he fully intended to do so. Even if he couldn’t quite decide whether his determination to protect her stemmed from his promise to Kat or his own desire. It was irrelevant at the moment. Something had this woman spooked enough to run from a successful career, everything and everyone she knew and loved, without a word. As the first faint fingers of dawn stole through the gap in the drapes and inched across the room toward the bed, Dimitri reluctantly disentangled himself from Elle’s arms and gathered up his things. With a lingering look at her peaceful face, he faded from the room with plenty of questions but absolutely no answers.
****
Elle extended her arms over her head and indulged in a long, satisfying stretch as she came awake, keeping her eyes tightly closed against the intrusive morning light. Morning? Shooting straight up in the bed, she looked around, blinking back tears of disbelief. Her nose wrinkled at the faint scent of leather knowing her mind must be playing tricks. She hugged the black tee, henceforth known as her lucky shirt, against her. A full night of demon free sleep! She hardly dared to believe the nightmare could be over. Well, one nightmare perhaps. Reality slammed her in the side of the head as she blew out a long breath and slung her legs over the side of the bed. There was still the small matter of her father to contend with.
Still, sometimes a girl just had to take what she could get, and for now, a good night’s sleep and twenty-four hours free of demonic memories felt pretty good. Elle bounced from the bed and bent to retrieve her nightgown from the floor where she’d dropped it the night before. But it wasn’t there. She straightened from her crouch and gasped as her now alert brain registered the appearance of the room. Her nest of pillows was on the other side of the rumpled expanse of linen, exactly where she’d stacked it. One pillow, however, had apparently migrated clear across the bed and bore the imprint of a head. Leaning closer, she reached to pluck a stray hair standing out in sharp contrast to the pristine whiteness of the pillowcase. The hair was longer than hers, and it was darker, straighter. Elle sat down hard as the room spun and her stomach flipped. It hadn’t been a dream. Dimitri Radchenko had spent the night with her in this bed. Her heart fluttered into her throat, stealing her breath. How had he found her? Why?
She took several deep breaths until her heart resumed a normal rhythm. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was her hair and she was just letting her imagination run away with her. Or indulging in wishful thinking. But if she was right, if Dimitri had been here and could find her so easily, despite all of her precautions, so could anyone else. She needed to move quickly, and in order to do so, she needed to travel a lot lighter. After folding the black tee carefully and replacing it on top of the journal in her bag, she pulled on the jeans she’d worn yesterday and topped them with a lightweight ivory sweater. She hurried to the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth, gathered her hair into a ponytail, and carried all of her toiletries back in the room and tossed them into her bag. Sinking her teeth in her lower lip, she braced herself against the weight and heaved her three remaining suitcases onto the bed, dumped them out, and began the painful process of downsizing. She crammed her few remaining possessions into her overnight bag, and removed the luggage tags with her identification from the others, dropping them to the bottom of her purse. Things were only things, after all. Unlike people, things could be replaced. Assuming she lived long enough to need them.
Chapter Five
Elle clutched her purse and overnight bag to her chest as she navigated the narrow aisle of the bus, and sank down in the very back seat with a groan of relief. She slid over to the window and dumped her bags on the seat beside her to discourage anyone from getting the idea she welcomed company. Port Authority had been crowded, as usual, but she didn’t notice anyone paying particular attention to her as she navigated the ticket counter and hurried along the red and white tiled corridors to her gate. Her gaze continued to bounce anxiously around the terminal. Attuned to every movement, she examined every face, until she had finally been able to board. At this point, she suspected everyone and told herself she was relieved she hadn’t had a single glimpse of six and a half feet of leather-clad angel, either.
The midday sun beating through the glass warmed her skin uncomfortably, and the skullcap beneath the wig already felt damp and tight. From past experience, she k
new she would be the proud owner of a full-blown headache long before she reached her destination. Resting her head against the back of the seat, Elle tugged a bottle of water from the pocket on the side of her bag and took a long pull. In less than two hours, she would be at Katrina McAllister’s family home in the Pocono Mountains. She planned to deposit the journal among the boxes of old books from Kat’s cousin’s estate. Once she mailed the letter, Kat would know where to find it. Elle counted on the fact the books were all still stacked and forgotten in the basement. She would be far more careful this time. She wouldn’t open a single book, wouldn’t look at a single page, and she absolutely wouldn’t read anything out loud. Demonic possession was an experience probably best confined to once in a lifetime.
Elle pressed her nose against the side window for a last glimpse of the skyline as the bus emerged from the Lincoln Tunnel and barreled into the traffic heading west on Route 3. Her breath fogged the glass, obscuring the sight of everything and everyone she was leaving behind on the meager finger of earth known as Manhattan. The thought of a forever goodbye squeezed her heart so painfully she thought it might be preferable if it stopped beating altogether. Elle looked away from the window and slumped down in her seat. Maybe, by some small miracle, her sacrifice of giving up everything she walked away from, would buy her some redemption with the people she loved. Assuming they were ever able to get beyond her act of betrayal.
Craning her neck, she looked out the back window at the bumper to bumper traffic that resembled a parking lot as they merged onto Route 46. It was impossible to tell if someone tailed the bus in the massive congestion, and she didn’t see a single man with long, dark hair streaming behind a set of wide shoulders while perched on a roaring, chrome death machine. She hadn’t really been expecting to see him, but the fact she specifically looked forced her to admit she’d been half hoping. She pulled a set of earbuds from her purse and plugged them into her phone. Once the bus reached the I-80 junction and headed into Pennsylvania, the traffic would drastically reduce and she’d be able to spot a tail better. She brought up her playlist, poked the buds into her ears, and stared sightlessly out the window at the miles of car dealerships and strip malls whizzing by.