Run To Me (Lazarus Rising #4)(38)

Her lips trembled. A tear slid down her cheek. “I…hurt.”

His face hardened. His eyes seemed to blaze. “Right.” That one word. Clipped. Hard. “That’s going to fucking change things.”

What?

He slid from the bed. Stood nearby, and his hands were clenched at his sides.

She didn’t know what to say or what to do. She didn’t… “You can’t trust me,” Willow whispered. It was something he must have already realized. “I can’t trust myself.” A truth that hurt the most.

His eyes narrowed. He leaned over her, putting his hands on either side of her body, caging her there. “You can trust me,” he rasped back at her. “Trust me to stay with you. To get you through this. I’m not going to give up.”

A lump rose in her throat again. “Maybe you should.”

“Fuck that. I’d never give up on you.”

The ache in her heart finally eased. She stared at him, wishing she could see past the mask he was wearing. Wishing she could understand him. “Why?” The word tore from her. “Is it guilt?” Because he’d given Wyman the money for Project Lazarus? Willow shook her head. “I don’t want guilt, I want—” Her lips clamped together.

“What do you want?”

She wanted what they’d had hours before. Two people, making love. Giving each other pleasure. No other worries. No other fears. Just him. Just her. Normal.

But Willow heard the soft tap of footsteps beyond her room. Someone was coming to watch her.

Her gaze darted over Jay’s shoulder, going to the big mirror.

“Easy,” he soothed. “It’s Cecelia. She’s coming to talk with you.”

The shrink?

“He got into your mind, Willow. We have to find out how.”

She didn’t want this.

“Just talk to her, for me, okay? Just talk to her for a few minutes, and let’s see what happens.”

She stared up at him. “I need clothes.”

He blinked. Glanced down at her body. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

His scent covered her. Maybe it had even made her feel better when she’d been alone in the containment room. “I want my clothes. And I want you to stay.”

His head jerked up.

“Stay,” Willow said again.

“Baby, I’ll do whatever the hell you want.”

***

Reva Gray wasn’t sure what time it was. Didn’t really care, either. She’d just left another club, the pounding beat of the music fueling her blood. She’d had more drinks than she could count, and she didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. So what if dawn came? Screw the day.

She’d already closed down two places that night. Good thing some clubs in the city partied until the sun came up.

She breezed past the bouncer at another bar. She always got entrance to any place she wanted. A perk that came with her looks. So few people ever saw beneath her beauty.

Jay doesn’t want me back. Her heels tapped too hard against the floor. She hadn’t loved Jay, that was true, but she’d had plans for his money. And she’d liked him. He hadn’t been a total prick. Maybe, with time, maybe she could have loved him.

If she’d believed in love.

Reva made her way to the bar. She didn’t buy her own drinks. Hadn’t in years. Wouldn’t be starting any time soon. She drummed her fingers to the beat of the music, knowing that a helpful fellow would arrive any moment. Someone who’d be happy to get her drink.

And sure enough, a tall, handsome stranger appeared, as if on perfect cue.

“Buy you a drink?”

Her gaze swept over him. His sandy blond hair was carefully styled, brushed back from his forehead. His body was muscled, lean and hard. He wore an expensive suit—she could always tell the price of a suit by just one glance.

The guy was money, all right. Money and muscle, and he was just her type. “You may.” Reva smiled at him. Maybe she’d forget Jay.

He’d sure forgotten her.

The fellow motioned for the bartender. Then her new guy glanced back at Reva. “I believe you and I have a…friend in common.” The hesitation was brief, but obviously deliberate.

She shrugged her shoulders even as she put her hand on his chest. A flirtatious move. One she’d perfected long ago. “And who is that friend?”

“Jay Maverick.”

Her eyelashes flickered.

“And when I say friend…” the man continued in his deep, dark as sin voice, “I mean asshole that I’m going to destroy.”

Maybe she’d had too much to drink. Because at his words, Reva laughed.

He smiled. There was something about his smile…

Her laughter stilled.

A shiver slid over her.

“Want to help me?” he asked.





Chapter Ten


Willow had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. She hadn’t bothered with shoes, and she sat, her spine perfectly straight, on the edge of the bed.

Cecelia Gregory—Dr. Cecelia Gregory—had pulled a chair close to the bed. Like Willow, Cecelia was also wearing jeans. She’d taken off her coat to reveal a blue sweater, and she offered Willow a reassuring smile.

Willow didn’t feel particularly reassured. They were still in the containment room—still in her cell, and Cecelia made her nervous.