"Now you know how I feel." He turned off the lamp and lay down beside her. "And I refuse to feel sorry for you."

"Aren't you going to take off your clothes?"

"No." He pulled her close so that her head tucked into his shoulder. "This is fine. This is good."

Yes, it was. She felt warm and safe and sheltered against him. She'd wanted to give comfort but found herself taking it. Or sharing it? They were as close mentally as they were now physically, and it was difficult to define the emotion. "It's all right with me, you know. Living in a firehouse gets rid of any prudery."

"I'll keep my clothes on, thank you. Though it's more of a reminder than a barrier." His lips brushed her forehead. "Because you were right."

"About what?"

"That a man's mind goes straight to sex." His hand stroked her hair as he whispered, "And you can never tell when his mood might change."

Crystal blue lake.

Soft breeze blowing through the high grass.

"What the hell?" Silver stood up and moved away from her. "I don't know what happened. God, I swear I never meant to do this, Kerry."

"I know you didn't." She smiled. "But I did."

His gaze shifted back to her. "What?"

"Oh, I haven't discovered a new talent. There's no way I could build a scenario like this. But I'm close enough to you now to be able to tap into your memory bank. I wasn't sure I could, but a little exploration and there I was. . . ." She looked out at the lake. "Here. Where I wanted to be. Where I wanted you to be."

"Good God, I've created a monster."

"No such thing. But you should have expected me to grab hold and run with it."

"I suppose I should have." He smiled. "But why? Why did you want to come here?"

"Because this is the place you brought me to to take away pain. I thought it might help. You wouldn't do it for yourself. It would have been too much like self-indulgence. Heaven forbid you give yourself a break."

"Oh? And where did you get the idea I was that self-sacrificing? I assure you I can be as selfish as they come given the right circumstances."

"Then be selfish, dammit. Where can you find more ideal circumstances?"

"I can think of a few."

She inhaled sharply as a wave of heat shocked through her. He was looking at her as he had that other day, and she became acutely aware of the tension of his muscles, the movement of his chest as he breathed in and out, his eyes . . .

"You shouldn't have brought me here," he said thickly. "You didn't think far enough ahead. You blunt the pain and you remove the distraction. Believe me, I needed the distraction."

She wasn't about to pretend she didn't know what he meant. Sex. Raw, hot, urgent. All the more powerful for the bond they shared. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to move her hands on his back and feel him tense against her. How would it be to have him sink- "Don't even think about it," Silver said harshly. "I'm trying to keep this thing between us on an even keel. Do you think this is easy for me?"

"I don't care about your even keel." She got to her feet and moved toward him. "You know what I want."

"Hell, yes. And I don't know whether I purposely caused it to happen." His hands reached out and grasped her shoulders. "I tried not to do it. But I wanted you and I might have made sure you wanted me."

"Don't be so conceited. I believe I'd be able to know whether or not you'd manipulated me when it came to sex."

"But you can't be sure."

"I learned when I was fighting fires that there comes a time when you just have to trust your instincts."

"Listen, you're feeling all warm and soft because you're sorry for me. But unless you back off now, I'm not going to give a damn about the whys or wherefores."

"Good. Because no matter how this started, it's pretty clear to me that I don't want to go to bed with you because I pity you." She grimaced. "Maybe I'm just using it as an excuse. Take a peek and you tell me."

He muttered a curse. "I'm not getting any closer to you than I have to, either mentally or physically. It's not fair to you. In spite of what you say about your wonderful firefighter instincts."

"Screw being fair to me." Her fingers touched his lips. They were warm and firm, and a tiny shock of sensation rippled through her. "My instinct tells me that I want this because I find you sexy as hell and that I'd want you if I was blind to that damn talent of yours."

"What if your instinct is-" A shudder ran through him as she stepped closer and pressed against him. "Shit." His arms closed around her. "You definitely know how to clinch an argument." His head bent until their lips were only a breath apart. "Okay, but I have only one qualification. No buffer. No dream-lake scenario."

Darkness.

Swirling heat.

Skin against skin.

She opened her eyes to see him above her on the bed. It took her a moment to come to full wakefulness. "You took your clothes off. . . ."

"You bet I did." He pulled her sleep shirt over her head and threw it aside. "I don't want anything between us. Not a piece of material, not a-" He broke off as his chest touched her breasts. "Jesus."

She knew how he felt. Her skin was flushed, burning, taut, and ready. "I can't- Come here." Her legs curled around his hips and drew him toward her. "I need you to-" She arched with a cry as she felt him move against her.

"I know. I will." He bent over her. "Anything you want."

Anything she wanted, she thought dazedly. He was already giving her what she wanted. But there was something she had to know, something she had to ask. "The lake," she whispered. "Why did you take me away from the lake?"

"Because I couldn't stand for it to happen there." He moved between her legs. "Because it's got to be real. . . ."

13.

Well, was it real enough for you?" Kerry rose on her elbow to look down at him, trying to catch her breath. "If it wasn't, then you're out of luck. I don't think it gets any earthier than this."

"We could try again and see." His hand covered her breast. "I believe in frequent reality checks."

She chuckled. "I can see why you'd need them." She flopped back down on the pillow and stretched lazily. "Give me a little time to get my breath. I didn't expect-I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. You're very . . . strong."

"I didn't hurt you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know how much I liked it." She reached out and rubbed his chest. She loved the prickly feel of hair against her palm. She loved the feel of him, the rough, smooth textures, the hardness. Jesus, how she loved that hardness. "It was just different."

"I love the way you feel too. Different?"

She laughed. "How can you ask? I've never made love to anyone who knew what I was thinking every minute. It was incredibly exciting."

"It could have gone either way." His hand covered her hand on his chest, stilling it. "And I tried to block you out. I thought it would be fairer to you. It didn't work. The bond was too strong."

"It didn't matter." It was difficult to be critical at the moment, since this sexual encounter was probably the most intense she'd ever had. He'd known every thought, every emotion, and had been able to meet and escalate them to the height of sensuality. She could still vaguely sense him, but it was the shadow presence to which she'd become accustomed. "I may feel differently tomorrow, but tonight it was definitely a plus."

"Too late. You can't back out now." He pulled her closer to lie against him. "You're the one who seduced me. You even turned my own scenario against me. Now you've got to live with it."

There was a note in his voice that made her stiffen. "What do you mean?"

"I told you I was a selfish bastard. I'm also chock full of the usual testosterone. I'm not giving this up."

"That has to be a mutual decision."

"You made your decision." He was silent a moment. "I . . . like what we are together. I'm usually pretty much of a loner. I have trouble getting close, even in sex. I guess it's because my work forces me into an intimacy that's sometimes suffocating. But it's not like that with you. I felt-Hell, you know how I felt. So I don't care if your decision was based on pity or curiosity. I'm going to do everything I can to keep this happening."

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"Don't sound so wary. I'm not going to try to force you." He took her hand and pressed the palm to his lips. "But I learned a lot about you tonight. You can't blame me for using it to make the pleasure so intense you won't want to give it up." His breath was warm on her palm, and every word was sending a ripple of heat down her arm. "You like this, don't you? Your palms are very sensitive."

"I like it." The heat was spreading throughout her body and her breath was quickening. "And I like having sex with you. That doesn't mean I'm going to let you dominate me. I can still take what I want and then walk away. So you just take your best shot, Silver."

"Oh, I will." He chuckled as he moved over her. "I can't thank you enough for the invitation. . . ."

The girl was alive.

Trask gazed at the picture of Carmela Ruiz in the newspaper in angry disgust. How the hell had she escaped Firestorm? He'd been sure that the fire would travel too fast for her to get away before the flames devoured her. He'd been wrong. She'd managed to get to the roof and somehow whipped up her courage to jump.

And Kerry Murphy had made sure that those firemen were there to catch her.

That didn't mean he'd failed and Kerry had won. The warehouse had still burned to the ground and he'd walked away free and powerful as ever.

Screw the warehouse. He wouldn't lie to himself. It had been Carmela who was to be the piece de resistance of that delicious event, and she'd escaped. And it had been Kerry who'd called the firemen who'd saved her so she could claim the victory.

His hand clenched on the newspaper as fury tore through him. Calm down. It was only the opening gambit. No, it wasn't. He'd failed at that fire in Macon at her brother's house. Two failures chalked up to Kerry Murphy. It was an unbearable humiliation. No, he could bear it because it would only make him stronger and more determined.

But she had to be shown that he was the one with a power that could reach out and scar and twist her life. Carmela? Or go after Kerry herself? He'd have to think about it. He'd have to reconsider a good many things in light of this defeat. His priorities had been clear before Kerry came on the scene, and he'd allowed her to disrupt and disturb those plans. Should he ignore her and go on as if- No! The rejection came with unexpected violence.

Very well, then certain adjustments might have to be made.

He reached out and punched in Dickens's number.

Dickens." George walked out of the library as Kerry and Silver were coming down the stairs the next morning. He waved a sheaf of fax papers in his hand. "Donald William Dickens. Age forty-two, and every year after the age of ten devoted to petty and not so petty crime. Theft, rape, suspicion in two murder cases. According to the dossier the FBI managed to pull up, he grew up in Detroit and was associated with the Mafia for a few years, but then broke away and started to freelance. He's not supposed to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he has the reputation of being very thorough and reasonably loyal to his employers."

"The FBI had a record?" Kerry asked. "But how did Trask get hold of him?"

George shrugged. "Dickens spent twelve years in Asia involved in drug and artifact smuggling before he came back to the States. He had a lot of contacts in North Korea."

"You're thinking he was a gift to Trask from Ki Yong?" Silver nodded slowly. "It's possible. Trask could have made the providing of help a part of his price."

"Where is he?" Kerry said. "Now that we know who he is, can we find him?"

"We're trying," George said. "Remember, he's a professional, and it won't be easy."

"Nothing's easy," Kerry said. "Do we have a photo?"

"I wouldn't fail you." He handed her the sheaf of papers in his hand. "The second sheet down. The third is his rap sheet."

Dickens was a heavyset man with bulldog jowls and unruly red hair sprinkled with gray. She handed the sheet to Silver. "Since he doesn't know that we know who he is, it should help."

He nodded. "And Trask must have had him doing the legwork before he approached you. I don't think there's a question that he'll have him on your heels when he finds out that Carmela is still alive." He glanced at George. "Is her rescue in the papers yet?"

"You've got to be kidding," George said. "Pretty, homeless teenager rescued from a fiery death by our city's finest? It's a story made in media heaven."

"Then Trask knows about it already." Kerry had to make an effort to keep from shivering. It was stupid to feel this bolt of fear that had come out of nowhere. It wasn't as if she hadn't expected Trask to learn that he'd falled to kill Carmela. "You're sure Carmela is well guarded?"

"I'm sure." Silver handed the sheaf of papers back to George. "But Trask may not think it's worthwhile to target her again. She was only a random victim."

"Random." The word left an ugly taste in Kerry's mouth. It was a cold word for a cold act. The idea of anyone casually choosing a victim as Trask had chosen Carmela was terrible. She moistened her lips. "Maybe you're right. But I'm not a random victim, and there's not a chance in hell that Trask won't go after me. And he'll probably need Dickens's help."

"Probably."

"So maybe we should make sure I'm accessible."

"No way," Silver said flatly.

"Wait a minute." George's eyes narrowed on Kerry's face. "I don't believe she's talking about making herself a martyr. What do you have in mind?"

"Just moving around town a little. Dickens isn't going to show himself as long as I'm barricaded behind these walls. If I make a few trips, it will give him reason to follow me. And that will give Ledbruk's agents a chance to identify or apprehend him. Isn't that right?"

George nodded. "It makes sense."

She turned to Silver. "And if we manage to identify him without him realizing we're doing it, we may be able follow him back to Trask."

"And what if Trask decides not to use Dickens? What if he's out there with his little dish all set to burn you to a crisp?"

"Then it's up to you to make sure he doesn't. I can't do everything." She turned and strode down the hall toward the kitchen. "But I can make myself coffee and some toast, and that's what I'm going to do right now. You argue with George about it, if it makes you feel better. But you know I'm right."

She heard him mutter a curse behind her, but she ignored it. She had no desire to argue with Silver right now. She was having to exert all her effort to shake off this sense of . . . what? Fear, anxiety, foreboding? Maybe a little of all those emotions.

Or maybe her imagination was just working overtime. She had a right to a case of nerves after what had happened at the warehouse.

She had the coffee brewed and was on her second cup when Silver came into the kitchen. "It took you long enough. I thought George was more persuasive than that."