Read Online Dark of Night by Suzanne Brockmann - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzanne Brockmann
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probably—finally—helping Tess by clearing Jimmy's clothing out of the place.
His doing so would put the final nail in the coffin
—bad
analogy, wow—of Tracy's fading hope that Jimmy was still alive. For a moment, before she zipped up her jeans, she paused, and considered pretending that she hadn't seen the light, so that she wouldn't have to help, wouldn't have to know.
But throwing out Jimmy's clothes was not going to be an easy task for Deck, who'd been friends with the dead man for more than ten years.
The very least Tracy could do was help get the job done, twice as quickly.
Slipping her sneakers onto her bare feet, she grabbed the laundry basket that was in the corner of her bedroom, and went to do just that.
Jimmy was having a nightmare.
It was a frequent occurrence—and had been, even before he'd been shot and nearly died.
Tess had learned through the years they'd been together that it wasn't always necessary to wake him. Sometimes it was enough just to put her arms around him and hold him tight.
But here, a half-day's drive from San Diego, in this remote desert safe house that Jules and Decker had set up, she was still sleeping on a cot that she'd placed in the corner so as not to disturb him.
He awoke with a shout. “No!
No!
”
Tess scrambled to his side. “Jimmy. Jim, it's all right. We're safe.”
“Oh, Christ,” he gasped as he clung to her. “Oh, Tess …”
“I'm here,” she said.
“Where?” he asked. “What… ?”
“The safe house,” she told him. “Remember?” She fumbled for the unfamiliar lamp on the unfamiliar bedside table, finally found the switch and clicked it on.
“Shit!” Jimmy turned away, closing his eyes against the light. “Don't!”
She switched it back off, but not before she saw that his face was wet with tears—as if she would somehow think him less of a man because he'd wept in his sleep? Still, over the past long weeks of his recovery, he'd been more vulnerable than he'd ever been before—at least in his adult life. Confined to a bed, hooked up to monitors and an IV, unable to move, forced to accept help for his most basic needs…
The ride from the hospital had not been an easy one, and he'd been sleeping pretty much continuously since arriving here early Monday.
His wounds, both from being shot and from the surgery that had saved his life, were still painful. And the infection that had riddled him for weeks had not only made him weak, but had prevented him from moving around, which Tess knew made his back and legs ache all the time.
Not that he'd complained.
Not in the hospital, and not in the cargo van in which he'd ridden here, on a stretcher. FBI agent Jules Cassidy himself had been driving, with Alyssa riding shotgun and Tess in the back.
They'd pulled right into the spacious five-bay garage at the base of this amazing hilltop castle, and closed the door tightly behind them.
Sam Starrett was already there, waiting for them, playing the tough-guy former SEAL even though everyone at Troubleshooters knew that he was an emotional pushover, and that the idea of bunnies falling in love in the spring made him choke up. He'd hugged Tess a little too tightly in greeting before clearing his throat about fourteen times and telling Jimmy that he looked like shit warmed over, which, for a guy who'd been dead for a few months, was pretty damn good.
They'd wheeled Jimmy into an elevator—this place had an elevator!—and gone to a gorgeous two-room suite with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the harshly beautiful desolation of the desert. The windows were one-way—no one on the outside could see in—but Tess had noticed Jimmy's trepidation as he looked at them, so she'd shut the drapes. With the push of a button on the wall by the bed, they'd closed with the softest motorized purr, and Jimmy soon relaxed into sleep.
Over the past day and a half, he'd roused only for meals.
But now he was awake and struggling to control his still-uneven
His doing so would put the final nail in the coffin
—bad
analogy, wow—of Tracy's fading hope that Jimmy was still alive. For a moment, before she zipped up her jeans, she paused, and considered pretending that she hadn't seen the light, so that she wouldn't have to help, wouldn't have to know.
But throwing out Jimmy's clothes was not going to be an easy task for Deck, who'd been friends with the dead man for more than ten years.
The very least Tracy could do was help get the job done, twice as quickly.
Slipping her sneakers onto her bare feet, she grabbed the laundry basket that was in the corner of her bedroom, and went to do just that.
Jimmy was having a nightmare.
It was a frequent occurrence—and had been, even before he'd been shot and nearly died.
Tess had learned through the years they'd been together that it wasn't always necessary to wake him. Sometimes it was enough just to put her arms around him and hold him tight.
But here, a half-day's drive from San Diego, in this remote desert safe house that Jules and Decker had set up, she was still sleeping on a cot that she'd placed in the corner so as not to disturb him.
He awoke with a shout. “No!
No!
”
Tess scrambled to his side. “Jimmy. Jim, it's all right. We're safe.”
“Oh, Christ,” he gasped as he clung to her. “Oh, Tess …”
“I'm here,” she said.
“Where?” he asked. “What… ?”
“The safe house,” she told him. “Remember?” She fumbled for the unfamiliar lamp on the unfamiliar bedside table, finally found the switch and clicked it on.
“Shit!” Jimmy turned away, closing his eyes against the light. “Don't!”
She switched it back off, but not before she saw that his face was wet with tears—as if she would somehow think him less of a man because he'd wept in his sleep? Still, over the past long weeks of his recovery, he'd been more vulnerable than he'd ever been before—at least in his adult life. Confined to a bed, hooked up to monitors and an IV, unable to move, forced to accept help for his most basic needs…
The ride from the hospital had not been an easy one, and he'd been sleeping pretty much continuously since arriving here early Monday.
His wounds, both from being shot and from the surgery that had saved his life, were still painful. And the infection that had riddled him for weeks had not only made him weak, but had prevented him from moving around, which Tess knew made his back and legs ache all the time.
Not that he'd complained.
Not in the hospital, and not in the cargo van in which he'd ridden here, on a stretcher. FBI agent Jules Cassidy himself had been driving, with Alyssa riding shotgun and Tess in the back.
They'd pulled right into the spacious five-bay garage at the base of this amazing hilltop castle, and closed the door tightly behind them.
Sam Starrett was already there, waiting for them, playing the tough-guy former SEAL even though everyone at Troubleshooters knew that he was an emotional pushover, and that the idea of bunnies falling in love in the spring made him choke up. He'd hugged Tess a little too tightly in greeting before clearing his throat about fourteen times and telling Jimmy that he looked like shit warmed over, which, for a guy who'd been dead for a few months, was pretty damn good.
They'd wheeled Jimmy into an elevator—this place had an elevator!—and gone to a gorgeous two-room suite with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the harshly beautiful desolation of the desert. The windows were one-way—no one on the outside could see in—but Tess had noticed Jimmy's trepidation as he looked at them, so she'd shut the drapes. With the push of a button on the wall by the bed, they'd closed with the softest motorized purr, and Jimmy soon relaxed into sleep.
Over the past day and a half, he'd roused only for meals.
But now he was awake and struggling to control his still-uneven
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