Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(31)

Right. As if he would let her walk away. “I could use more data.”

“Tough shit,” she said. “Forget it. Or else stop the car.”

He ignored that. They drove on in silence for many minutes while he pondered his next move.

“Tell me just one little thing,” he said.

“What part of ‘no questions’ did you not understand?”

“Your name,” he said. “Just that. I’ll need it, tonight.”

She sighed, wearily. “Courtney.”

He couldn’t keep from laughing. “Please. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

She looked at him, startled. “Why? What’s wrong with Courtney?”

“Nothing specific. It’s just that it’s not your name,” he said. “People grow into their names, or their names grow onto them. Courtney hangs all wrong on you.”

He let the tension build, as the glow in her sig between her throat and heart got hotter. Shades of blue and violet, getting so bright they were almost white.

Truth, rising up at his summons. She couldn’t keep it inside. She had to let it spill out, or she’d explode. She had to give it up to him. He held his breath.

“Caro,” she whispered.

Yes. He was silently delighted. As if he’d made her come with words alone.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said. “Call me Noah.” He reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were slender and cool, vibrating in his grasp. “Caro,” he said softly. “I like it.”

It was happening again. He waited as they drove along the road that circled the lake. That blue-violet glow brightening as a fresh truth welled up, until it had to emerge.

“It’s what my mother called me when I was little,” she said.

They were home. He pushed a dashboard remote that opened up a large gate, and drove down the winding driveway. His house finally appeared, the high foundation built into rocks and the land, the terrace on stilts embedded in the lake. He parked, catching her thoughtful look around without commenting on it as they got out. The car chirped in farewell as he touched his key fob. He led her up the walkway.

“When did your mother stop calling you that?” he asked.

Many moments passed before she responded. “I was nine when she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded in acknowledgement. He hooked her arm, and drew her onward. “There are security cameras at the front door, and the back patio,” he said. “Couple more around each side.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you telling me.”

He unlocked the door, disarmed the security system that Sisko had programmed for him, and gestured her into the towering foyer.

His fingers flashed over the wall keypad. “Recoding the indoor vidcams,” he told her. “OK. They’re all off. You can relax.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He put the duffel bag down, and lifted her coat off her shoulders. “Take off your disguise.” He waited, as she hesitated. “You’re completely safe here.”

She still hesitated. Even with the shield lenses, he could see that she’d frozen.

“This is the safest place you’ve been in a long time,” he said with quiet intensity. “I would never do anything to you that you didn’t want. I would never hurt you. I would never let anyone else hurt you. I would crush anyone who tried into pulp.”

She laughed at him. “Oh, stop. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not going to strike terror into the hearts of the legions of darkness in a business suit. Not that it doesn’t look awesome on you.”

He grinned. If she only knew. “I’m tougher than I look,” he said. “Take off your disguise.”

Caro did as he asked. The mouth thing went into its hinged container, the glasses went into their case, the yanked-off wig was slung into a satin carrying bag.

He unwound out her coiled hair, loving the way her curls twisted around his fingers. “That’s better,” he murmured. “Caro.”

He clasped her waist and pressed her against the wall, lifting her and setting her astride the bulge in front of his pants. Letting her lean against it. Her eyes looked so wary and dilated, her lush mouth slightly open, her breath quick and uneven. So beautiful. He wanted to admire every detail of her pale face. But there was work to do.

She was too pale. Her lips were bluish. He forced his attention away from his groin and charged up his AVP to scan her.

Borderline hypoglycemic. Dizzy. Low blood pressure. Slightly dehydrated.

He couldn’t seduce a woman in that condition. He had to take care of her first.

Food, then. Not a bad idea for him, either. Running AVP burned a lot of glucose. He fueled up with an extra ten thousand calories at one go sometimes. And his AVP had been in high gear all afternoon and evening.

He lifted her and set her down, stepping back. Calling on all of his hard-assed self-control. “Not yet,” he said. “Let me get some food into you.”

She frowned slightly, as if regular meals were a foreign concept to her. “All right.”

He breathed out, to the count of ten. He had to chill. Until her sig looked brighter and steadier.

Ironic, when he thought about it. He had her in his lair, secretly and under cover of darkness. Defenseless. He had every advantage over her that she could imagine, and plenty of others that she probably couldn’t. And all it amounted to in the end was that he had to compensate like a son of a bitch for every single one of those advantages.