Page 40 of Dark ’N’ Deadly

Chapter Thirteen

Tess sat rigidly in the uncomfortable plastic chair. The ER waiting room was nearly empty. The only sounds came from the wall-mounted TV and the occasional page over the intercom.

Air conditioning cranked high gave her the chills, and she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. A myriad of thoughts swept through her mind, none of them good, but the worst was that Jesse had contracted some horrible disease, or that he’d been poisoned, or one of a hundred other possibilities, or…that he would die. She refused to believe her little brother would be taken from her so soon.

Her belly spasmed with sobs she didn’t dare vocalize. One was all it would take, and she’d never stop crying.

It had been forty-five minutes since she’d called Eric. He was the first person she’d wanted to notify, and not because Jesse was, technically, under his unofficial supervision. She’d done it because…because… She couldn’t put into words why she’d called him first, but he was the one she needed, and that was bizarre since they certainly weren’t a couple, and he was the absolute last person she should be leaning on for help. But she’d done it anyway and couldn’t stop glancing repeatedly at the ER’s main doors, hoping to see his tall frame come through any second.

Unable to sit still, she dug into her bag, searching for her phone. The first thing her hand contacted was the metal penknife she’d retrieved from the glove box in her Camry. Finally, she found the phone. She’d intended to call Andi but quickly discarded the idea. That would require an explanation about what was happening, and she didn’t want to involve her friend in any of her and Jesse’s mess. Between a newborn and a restaurant to run, Andi had her hands full as it was. Besides, Andi and Nick had just been through hell with their own issues, and there was no way she could burden her friends all over again.

More tears threatened to fall, and she leaned her head back, willing them to stay put behind her eyes. If Jesse died, she really would be all alone again. She’d been living just fine on her own, but the last two days with Eric and Jesse had changed all that. There was no plausible way she could have that with Eric, but that didn’t stop her stupid, stupid brain from thinking about it. What she wanted was someone to love and who would love her back with the same crazy degree of passion that she craved in her life.

“Tess!”

Eric strode purposefully into the waiting room. Abandoning her bag on the chair, she jumped up and threw herself in his arms. She’d never been a crier, but to her horror, she started bawling like an infant and couldn’t keep those damn rivers from gushing out of her eyes. Someone had cranked opened the tap, and she couldn’t turn it off.

He held her for a solid minute while her body wracked with sobs, and with each passing moment a little bit of her loneliness and helplessness faded. His mere presence was enough to accomplish that.

He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel…

Things I shouldn’t.

“Shh,” he whispered against her hair, holding her tighter against his body. “Whatever’s wrong with him, we’ll deal with it.”

We’ll deal with it? What did that mean?

The only time there’d ever been a we in her life since her mother died had been before she’d fled Alabama. It had been her and Jesse against the world. Since then, no one had ever constituted a we, as in, someone who would be there for her.

A man who actually cares.

She let out a long sigh.

He tipped her chin up and kissed her forehead. “Okay?”

She sniffled, meeting his gaze through her teary one. “O-okay.”

“You’re not alone, Tess.” Gently, he pressed her head against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around her again, allowing his warmth to seep into her chilled body.

Dare I actually trust his words? She wanted to. More than anything. It felt so right to be in his arms.

The hem of her floral tank top had ridden up, and something sharp bit into the tender flesh at her waist—the front sights of the .40 caliber Glock holstered on his belt. His government-issued weapon might as well have been a ten-foot-tall neon street sign, blinking with the words: Tess McTavish is a naive fool.

No matter the warm and fuzzy scenario her mind had ridiculously conjured up, such thoughts were futile. She and her brother were who they were, and Eric would always be what he was. An ATF agent. A man who would eventually dig deep enough to unearth her ugly secrets.

Reluctantly, she pulled away to find him watching her, his eyes filled with concern. Ironic how she wanted to laugh at the mussy way his hair stuck out. He’d been raking his fingers through it again, the way she was becoming accustomed to seeing whenever he was frustrated.

“Let’s sit down.” He urged her back to the row of chairs and sat next to her. “Have they told you anything yet?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve been waiting over an hour.”

“Let me see what I can do.” He rose and disappeared around a corner.

She was going crazy not knowing, and if Eric had the ability to get answers sooner rather than later, she’d be grateful for the expeditious assistance. A minute later, he returned with a doctor and a nurse in tow.

Amazing what the power of a badge can do.

The doctor was tall, yet Eric towered over him by a good two inches. His skin was the color of dark chocolate, and his eyes were a similar shade. His nametag indicated he was Dr. Thomas Pierce.