Doranna Durgin - Survival Instinct

He thought about that a moment, then shook his head…but it was a gesture of amused admiration. “Good try.”

She shrugged, tearing off a corner of the sub. Hardly stale at that. “Didn’t work. Made a mess, in fact…I had no idea he’d be so sensitive to poison ivy. It came on strong enough to make him believe me after all.”

Dave tapped a few more words into the laptop. “Means he’s in custody, though.” He got serious with his typing for a moment, and Karin ate her sub in silence. It didn’t take long before she pulled the pad of paper to prop on her knees.

Karin Sommers’s Substitute Journal, March Something

Next installment in our exciting story. I’m here in a hotel room with a hunky guy in glasses that make him look even more sexy-if it can be believed-and I’m not even wearing underwear. Gosh, what do you think will happen next?

Nothing, that’s what. Because I hurt too damn bad. I’m in trouble, Ellen. Real trouble. I can’t help that boy as you could have, because we neglected to do one of those memory transference things as you died. I might be able to do something as me-Rumsey’s lessons come in handy now and then-but I can’t be me without throwing away the new life you died to give me.

And considering that warrant, without throwing away what’s left of the old…

And didn’t that just sum it all up.

Karin ate another bite of sandwich, savoring it. When she looked up she found Dave watching, his laptop closed, report submitted. “What did you tell them?”

He assumed a straight man’s face. “That he didn’t have Mad Sheep disease, no matter what he said.” He watched as she tucked another morsel of food into her mouth, then gave himself a slight shake. “Actually, I didn’t. I figure if he’s babbling about Mad Sheep disease, they’re not likely to give whatever else he says much credence. I just told them we’d found him when we stopped to stretch our legs, but that my companion had hurt herself while trying to help. Once we realized we couldn’t, we called 911 and went to get you medical attention. And that I would be happily cooperative about answering any questions.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He shrugged. “I don’t think we’ll have to. The man tripped and fell over the side in the dark, that’s all. He’s not the first they’ve rescued from that little patch of ground and he won’t be the last. And whatever he says, you can bet he’s not going to admit that Barret Longsford sent him to kidnap you, or that he threw you over the side of that mountain and then came back for you. Unless he’s got a warrant lurking, he’ll be headed back to Barret soon.”

Karin stopped chewing at warrant lurking but immediately forced herself to continue, even if the food had gone tasteless. Swallowing, she took a sip of soda lest the bread get stuck in her throat, but after that she had her game face back. Even if she did push the sandwich aside.

If he noticed, he misinterpreted. “Don’t worry,” he said. “If something comes up, I’ll handle it. Working with the local LEOs is something I do all the time-you think I had a contact in Bluefield out of coincidence?”

She’d wondered, actually. “So the errand geek is still on the loose,” she said, drawing her knees up to grow pensive.

“Sidelined for a while, I should think,” Dave said. “That rash…it’s going to take him out of work for a while.”

Karin pictured the man, allowing herself a small, tight smile. “All over his hands,” she said. “Ol’Barret’s gonna have to send someone down to get him.”

Dave looked at her another long moment, rubbing a finger just below his lower lip in a thoughtful gesture. “Seriously,” he said, “we could have pressed charges. But I don’t think you could have stayed low-profile, and I’d rather have Barret wondering just where you are. I’ve gotten the impression you feel the same.”

She took a sharp breath at the thought of being discovered. Longsford would know Karin wasn’t the woman he’d dated. Fooling Ellen’s casual acquaintances while leaning on the changes wrought by the accident was one thing…fooling someone who had been intimate with her was something else again.

“Hey,” Dave said. She looked at him, for the moment only blinking. Here she was with the man who’d inadvertently turned her life upside down, the night after her life had literally gone topsy-turvy over the side of a mountain. She’d survived that…she’d survive this. She’d survive being unable to help Rashawn Little-and she’d survive being wanted by Longsford as Ellen and in California as Karin. She’d survive, because it was what she did. But right now…

Right now it all piled up around her in an implacably suffocating way.

Dave made getting-up noises, and rummaged in the overnight bag he’d dropped to the floor on the other side of his bed. “Hey,” he said again, standing there looking as rumpled as she felt, damned adorably rumpled. And in his hand…a flask.

“Ooh,” she said. It was an expensive flask, leather covered. It promised…

Single malt.

“Just a taste,” he said. “It’s cask strength, and you’ve got pain drugs in your system.”

“They’ve worn off. Trust me on that.” She watched-more listened-as he retrieved two hotel glasses, rinsed them and reemerged still shaking them free of excess water; he put them on the little round table. Then he rummaged in the room’s minibar and brought out a bottle of purified drinking water.

“Ooh,” she said again. “We’re going to do this right.”

“Damned straight we’re doing this right. This is a twenty-six-year-old Cardhu. Distilled in ’76, bottled in 2000.”

She dropped her knees back into a cross-legged position, leaning forward a little. “If I didn’t hurt so much, I’d bounce. Twenty-six-year-old Cardhu? Let’s get married.”

He grinned. “Ah,” he said. “A true believer. I’m surprised this didn’t come out when we spoke last year.”

“We weren’t talking about pleasant things,” she pointed out, ignoring her little frill of alarm. This detail wouldn’t be the one to out her. “This is a pleasant thing. A sublime thing.”

He tipped his head in acknowledgment, trickled a finger of scotch into each glass, and handed her one, sitting on the edge of his bed. Not so far away, as they each swirled the amber liquid, taking in the smoky scent of a cask-strength malt. Karin sighed with appreciation, then took the smallest sip, holding it on her tongue as it warmed. Woody and citrusy and just a hint of smoky aftertaste when she swallowed.

She stole a glance at Dave, found his eyes closed and his nostrils slightly flared and suddenly fell just a little bit in love with a man who could savor such simple pleasures.

If scotch at nearly two hundred dollars a bottle could be called simple.

When he opened his eyes, he smiled, a self-aware sort of smile. “It’s better shared, I always thought.” He uncapped the bottled water and tipped it at her, and Karin held out her glass, wincing a little at what the movement did to her muscles.

“Never mind,” she said, as he eyed her with concern. “This will help.” She waited for him to pour a splash of water, swirled and took in the aroma all over again. The taste turned smoother, sweet honey on her tongue with a side of citrus and a peaty, smoky aftertaste. “Oh yeah.”

He grinned suddenly, still taking in the expanded aroma from his own glass. “I had a feeling it wouldn’t be wasted.”

“Oh?” She let the glass warm between her hands as he warmed a mouthful of the drink. “How did you come by that?”

He nodded at her sandwich. “The way you eat,” he said. “You enjoy it. You take your time. You…it’s…” He cleared his throat. “It caught my attention.”