Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)(2)

Gideon’s expression changed to one of amusement. It was a look Felicia was used to seeing, and she knew it meant she’d somehow missed an obvious social cue or taken a joking comment literally.

She held in a sigh. She was smart. Scary smart, as she’d often been told. She’d grown up around scientists and graduate students. Ask her about the origins of the universe and she could give a fact-based lecture on the subject without having to prepare. But interpersonal interactions were harder. She was so damned awkward, she thought glumly. She said the wrong thing or sounded like a space alien with bad programming, when all she wanted was to be just like everyone else.

“I meant are you okay now,” he said. “You screamed. That’s why I came in.”

She pressed her lips together. For possibly the thousandth time in her life she thought how she would gladly exchange thirty IQ points for just a small increase in social awareness.

“I’m fine,” she said, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Couldn’t be better. Thank you for coming to my rescue—however unnecessary that was.”

He took a step toward her. “I’m always happy to help out a beautiful woman.”

Flirting, she thought, automatically monitoring his pupil dilation to see if it was real or simply politeness. When a man was sexually interested, his pupils dilated. But it was too dark in the warehouse for her to be sure.

“What made you scream?” he asked.

She drew in a breath. “I saw a spider.”

One eyebrow rose.

“It was large and aggressive,” she added.

“A spider?”

“Yes. I have issues with them.”

“Apparently.”

“I’m not stupid. I know it’s not rational.”

Gideon chuckled. “You’re many things, Felicia, but we’re all aware that stupid isn’t one of them.”

Before she could figure out what to say to that, Gideon turned and walked away. She was so caught up in the way his jeans fit his butt that she couldn’t think of anything to say, and then he was gone and she was alone with little more than her mouth hanging open, a herd of American house spiders and their plans for her.

* * *

GIDEON BOYLAN KNEW the danger of flashbacks. They could come on suddenly and disoriented him. They were vivid, engaging all his senses, and when they were gone, a man had no way of knowing what was real and what was imagined. After being held captive for two years, he’d been ready to give in to madness. At least it would have been an escape.

His rescue had come just in time, although too late for the men who had been with him. But even being out of the hands of tormentors hadn’t given him any sense of freedom. The memories were just as painful as the imprisonment had been.

Focus, he told himself as he loaded the CD and checked his playlist for the next three hours. He had put his past behind him. Some days he even believed it. Seeing Felicia earlier had been a kick in the gut, but he would take a flashback of a beautiful woman in his bed every time. Still, he’d had to take a five-mile run and then meditate for nearly an hour before he’d felt calm enough to head to the radio station.

“We’re doing it the old-fashioned way tonight,” he said into the microphone. “Just like we always do.”

Beyond the control room, the station was dark, the way he liked it. He didn’t mind the dark. If it was dark, he was safe. They’d never come for him in the dark. They’d always turned the lights on first.

“It’s eleven o’clock in Fool’s Gold and this is Gideon. I’m going to dedicate tonight’s first song to a lovely lady I ran into today. You know who you are.”

He pushed the button and “Wild Thing” by the Troggs started.

Gideon smiled to himself. He had no way of knowing if Felicia was listening or not, but he liked the idea of playing a song for her.

A red light flashed on the wall. He glanced at it, aware someone was ringing the front bell. After hours, the signal flashed back in the control room. An interesting time for visitors. He walked to the front of the radio station and unlocked the door. Ford Hendrix stood in front of the door, a beer in each hand.

Gideon grinned and waved his friend in. “I heard you were in town.”

“Yeah, back two days and I’m already regretting the decision.”

Gideon took the offered beer. “Welcome home the conquering hero?”

“Something like that.”

Gideon had known Ford for years. Although Ford was a SEAL, they’d served together on a joint task force, and later, when Gideon had been left in his Taliban prison to rot, Ford had been one of those who had risked his life to get him out.

“Come on back. I have to put on the next song.”

They walked down the long corridor. “I can’t believe you own this place,” Ford said, following him into the control room. “It’s a radio station.”

“Huh. That explains all the music.”

Ford took the seat opposite Gideon’s. Gideon put on his headphones and flipped a switch.

“This is my night for dedications,” he said. “I apologize for going digital for a second, but it’s the only way to cue up quickly. Here we go. Welcome home, Ford.”

The opening of “Born to be Wild” began.

“You really are a bastard,” Ford said conversationally.