The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(71)

For a moment he collapsed against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His heart hammered. Still inside her, he allowed the weight of his body to press her into the mattress. He’d fantasized about this for too long to let it go quickly. He didn’t want this to end.

Finally, she smoothed a hand over him. Her gentle touch, no doubt meant as a dreamy kindness, burned along his skin as a reminder that this moment would soon be over. They’d dress. Leave this room. And the tension and distance would return. That was something he wasn’t sure he could bear.

“Are you okay?” he asked, needing to hear her voice.

“Yes.” She moistened her lips, her expression a mixture of satiety and embarrassment. “We should talk.”

The talk. They’d used thousands of miles and silent reserve to fend it off for eight months. He sat up. “Sure. Talk.”

She scooted up into a sitting position. She looked around for her clothes and hurried across the room to retrieve them. While he sat and watched her, she scooped her sweater up off the floor and pulled it on over her head. She tugged on her pants. “We’ve got to figure it out between us.”

“What’s there to figure?” He ran a hand over his short hair.

She pushed a long lock of hair from her eyes and wound her hair into a knot that fell around her shoulders as soon as she released it. He knew she hated wearing her hair loose, but he loved touching it when it hung free around her shoulders or skimmed the top of her breasts.

“I want the stuff that happens outside this room to work,” she said.

“Why now? You didn’t want it eight months ago.”

She shook her head. “You’re getting angry.”

“I’m not.” He shoved out a breath. He at least owed her the truth. “I am angry. At myself. I rushed us into this marriage, and that was a mistake.”

“You didn’t drag me kicking and screaming. I wanted it also.”

“And you left it.”

She fisted her fingers. “Because you shut me out.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I never pretended to be anything I wasn’t.”

“You were different in the beginning. We were happy. The Anderson case changed you.”

He shook his head, knowing he couldn’t blame all this on one case. “It brought to the surface what was always there. I’ve always been driven. I like catching bad guys. And as much as I’d like to tell you I want to be different, the truth is, I like my job. I’m good at it, and I hope to be locking up scum until my last days on this earth.”

“I don’t mind the long hours, the dedication it takes, but you made me feel like a stranger in my own home.” Her voice cracked.

Her raw pain jabbed at him more than any anger she could hurl his way. He rose and crossed to his pants, yanking them over his legs. “That’s on you, not me.”

Her head dropped as if the fight abandoned her. “God, you’re so damn hard to love. Why won’t you let me just love you?”

Hearing the worry and shame in her voice stoked his frustration. He didn’t know how to be anyone else. He didn’t know how to be the person she needed. “What happened here doesn’t change who I am. You need to hear that.”

Tessa looked at him, her eyes filled with unspoken determination. “I don’t buy that. I’m convinced we’re good for each other.”

He could still taste her on his lips. Smell that damn jasmine soap on her skin. And he wanted her more now than he did minutes ago. “You might be good for me, but I’m not good for you.”

“That isn’t true. And I’ll prove it to you.” She grabbed the rest of her clothes. “This isn’t over, Dakota Sharp.”

She made it to the doorway as she scooped up her purse, then she left the front door open and the file behind.

Sharp had followed her out of the bedroom and watched as she walked with a determined gait to her car and slid behind the wheel. He waited until her engine roared, her headlights clicked on, and her car left the curb.

He slammed the door. “Shit.”

Grabbing his phone, he dialed. On the second ring a gruff trooper answered.

“This is Agent Sharp. I need you to keep an eye on a potential witness for me.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Tessa McGowan. Can you put extra patrols around her work and home if I text you addresses?”

“Consider it done, Sharp.”

“Thanks.” He hung up and immediately sent Green the addresses. He might not be able to be the man she needed, but he sure as hell could keep her safe.




Elena swam through the haze, rising from the deep end of nothingness. Above, sunlight glistened, and she sensed if she kept pulling herself up, she would reach the surface and be able to take a deep breath. Just keep swimming. Keep pulling.

As the light grew brighter, she became aware of pain burning her face. The closer she moved toward the surface, the worse it became.

When Elena broke free, she could barely move her head because her face was so tender. Her lips and eyes were swollen, her cheeks stung, and her forehead and neck felt as if they had been scraped with sandpaper.

She tried to raise her hand but couldn’t make her arms move. What the hell? She forced her eyes to focus on her fingers, only to realize her hands were strapped to the arms of the chair.