Thrill Ride (Black Knights Inc. #4)(22)

He lowered his chin to place a soft kiss on the crown of her head but didn’t so much as utter a sound. No words of sympathy or condolence. And it was like he somehow knew this was the first time she’d been brave enough to speak of the accident, been brave enough to relive it. As if he understood that any little thing, any word or sudden movement, would make her lose her nerve again.

“I…I stayed that way for an hour, in the pitch black, listening to the water trickling by beneath me, knowing all the time…” She had to stop. Had to take a second to slow the dizzying excess of oxygen entering her lungs with every rapid breath. Because if she didn’t get control right now, the next stop on this crazy train of emotional upheaval was a little place she liked to call Dead Faint. So, she closed her eyes, held her breath, and slowly counted to ten.

It was a trick she’d learned as a child and, more often than not, it actually worked. This was no exception. By the time she reached nine, her head no longer felt as if it was floating away from her shoulders. “Knowing all the time that my parents were dead only a couple of feet away.”

And she’d screamed. Screamed until her throat was bloody. Screamed for help. Screamed in horror. Screamed at the gut-wrenching sorrow that’d invaded her soul like a foul, acrid disease. Just…screamed…

But no one had heard her. And when she couldn’t scream any more, when no more sound could escape her swollen, ravaged throat, she’d silently continued screaming in her head.

“Finally, a passing car saw the broken guardrail and called it in. The local fire department cut me loose and fished me out of the river but, of course, it was too late for my parents.” She finished the rest in a rush. “And ever since that night, anytime it’s dark like this, I feel like I’m back there. Stuck in that car. Unable to see, but knowing all the same that the two people I love most are dead and gone.”

And, there. She’d done it. She’d told the story. She couldn’t believe she’d actually had the guts to finally tell the story.

She was in the middle of congratulating herself, blowing out a relieved breath and patting herself on the back, when Rock finally spoke. But his words were not what she expected. “Go on. There’s more.”

More? There wasn’t any more. She’d told him—

“Tell me more about the darkness,” he said, and despite the sultry heat inside the log, a harsh chill slipped up her spine.

She swallowed, the sound clicking in her dry throat. He grabbed her hand and flattened it over his chest until she could feel the firm beat of his heart against her palm. It steadied her. And when she pressed her ear to his chest, the slow, unwavering drum of his heartbeat grounded her enough to admit, shakily, “I…I feel like it’s…I don’t know, out to get me or something. Like it missed me that night on the river, and it’s just…just waiting to finish the job.”

And until she said the words, she hadn’t realized that was what she was afraid of.

Her racing blood slowed to a halt, and she stilled, searching inside herself. And the harder she looked, the more she peeled back the thick layers of her psyche, the more she realized, yes. Yes, that’s exactly what had been haunting her for the last half decade…

Okay, and seriously? She’d installed nightlights all over her loft-style bedroom back at BKI, broke out in a cold sweat anytime she was inadvertently caught out in the night, and squirreled away flashlights all over the shop because she was afraid the dark was, like, what? Alive? That it was a sentient being purposefully and personally stalking her?

Jesus Christ! Was she crazy?

Abruptly the fingers of darkness that’d been squeezing her heart and lungs withdrew. The weight of the blackness pushing in around her suddenly felt less oppressive.

Holy crap! That’s all it took? Just to put a name to it and, poof, the fear was gone? She looked inward again, seeking that paralyzing terror, the sense of impending doom, but…nothing.

Oh, the pitch black wasn’t comfortable by any means. It still brought back stark memories of that night. But now she could look at the whole experience without nearly blacking out from fear. Now she could view it rationally and see it simply for the heartbreaking tragedy it was and—

Holy, holy, holy crap!

“How do you do that?” she breathed.

“Like I said, it’s my training.”

“It’s more than that,” she whispered, awed and grateful at the same time. “It’s a gift.”

She felt him shrug.

For long seconds after that mind-blowing revelation, they remained silent. Then, he murmured, “I am sorry about your folks. It’s tough to be an orphan, no matter what your age.”

Orphan…And, yep, that’s all it took for the dam to break.

The tears she hadn’t realized she’d been holding back threatened to overflow. Turning her face into his chest, she fisted the fabric of his wet tank top into balls beside her cheeks and tried to steady herself. But she couldn’t. Especially not when Rock whispered softly, “It’s okay to let go, chere. There’s no one here but you and me.”

Uh-huh. And, just like that, she could no longer pretend she was tougher than she really was. Then Vanessa did something she never, ever allowed herself to do in front of anyone…

She cried.

And it wasn’t one of those tragic, lip-quivering, slow-crocodile-tear cries either. The kind most actresses perfected. Oh, no. This was a full-on, ball-your-eyes-out, tears-and-snot-everywhere kind of deal.