Michael was happy at the prospect of seeing his home again, but he wasn’t happy about leaving his stuff at Maria’s. Another t-shirt, gone. Maria DeLuca was systematically taking over every Metallica t-shirt he owned. She reasoned that she’d need clothes, and since he had some at home, she dumped his stuff and filled the one bag they had with her stuff. Michael insisted they make a stop on their way home.

“Shoes? You want to buy me a pair of shoes?” Maria looked at him and her eyes just melted. He was so wonderful. A God. A man among men. Why, he was…

“Don’t get all teary eyed. Not until you see what kind of shoes.”

Maria just smiled.

Her smile faded when he stopped outside the entrance of a large chain athletic shoe store. The garish neon sign that proclaimed the name of the place was blinding. “I can’t go in there!”

“You can, and you will. I need you to try the shoes on.”

“You’re serious? You want to buy me some kind of chunky athletic wear that hangs off my foot like a nightmare?”

“No, I want to buy you some shoes that will cover your feet, be comfortable, and that you can run in if you need to. I want you to be safe and able to take off if the need rises.”

“You hate my shoes?” Maria was changing her mind. How the hell did she ever decide to sleep with this lug?

“I love your shoes. Especially that one pair, the silvery strappy ones with the five inch heels. What? They look like something from Jimmy Choo.”

“You know Choo?” Her voice held a note of reverence.

“Own a few myself.” Okay, she was now going to marry him. Okay, maybe not, but definitely defile his body. He deserved it. Perfect. “But you don’t have anything flat that you can run in, and if someone’s coming after you with a gun, I think I’d feel better if you could run, fast and fleet of foot.”

Michael led her inside, ignoring her smallish voice saying in wonder, “You’re going to buy me shoes.” Yeah. Whatever.

It was her reaction to the place that hit him hard. She clasped her hands together in wonder, and then, just that fast, she was flitting all over the place. Every time he located her again she had acquired another salesperson. No way. By the time he finally caught up with her, she was trying on shoes. Legions of shoes.

There were boxes everywhere, stacked on top of each other. Towering. Scary. Crazy. Loony. Certifiable. The words poured out of his brain in a collage of diction. Thesaurus Boy. Whacked... That was it! She was whacked!

“What are you doing?” he asked softly.

Maria smiled up at him, animated, excited, and dammit, way too sexy. “I had no idea! I mean…wow! Did you see all the brands?” Maria turned to a young salesperson and smiled charmingly, Michael just shook his head and looked away. Pathetic. He could almost hear the poor guy’s heart drop to his feet. “Do you have this in Puce?”

Michael went over and stood Maria up, not so gently pushing her adoring fans away from her overpriced dressed feet. Taking her to a window he pointed at his bike.

“Bike, Maria. How much can we pack? Do the math.”

“Five pair. I can get five pair on that machine.”

“One.”

“Four. And I need socks. They have cute little anklets, and…”

“One.”

“Michael…”

“One.”

Maria looked at the tower of shoes she'd already selected. She’d never be able to decide on just one pair. “Three!”

“One.” Michael wouldn’t budge.

“Michael, I can’t decide. There’s too many styles and colors, and…”

“Dammit, Maria. They have doctors for this kind of thing!” Michael’s face took on a firm look. “One.”

“Michael…” Maria looked around helplessly. There was…He was mean. That was it. Mean. Mean. Mean. Big meanie. Michael watched the chasing emotions across her face, and unable to resist because he was obviously losing his own mind, he capitulated.

“Two.” He said with a sigh. Dammit, if word ever got around, his well-earned reputation would be lost.

“Two!” Maria backtracked on the mean comments. Her happiness was a tangible thing. She kissed him hard and long and then rushed back to her disciples. “Hear that? We have to decide on two pair out of this whole group, so I was thinking we should start over and go for the definitive in comfort footwear…”

Michael just wandered off and caught a person who had yet to be sucked into the Maria-Insanity-Zone. “Coffee. You have to have coffee around here.” The kind still-human person was happy to get him a cup. Michael looked over as Maria decided on her first pair, which was happily applauded and agreed on by the shoe chorus.

“Your coffee.”

Michael absentmindedly thanked him and then pointed over to Maria as she washolding a shoe, trying to decide. “How much does that shoe cost?”

The young man squinted and smiled. “Oh, that’s an excellent shoe! Three hundred eight-five dollars, but luckily it's on sale right now.”

Michael just nodded. Figures. Expensive. Sale? Uh huh. “How big of a sale?”

“Ten percent off.”

“That’s like thirty-eight dollars and fifty cents.” Michael looked at the kid like he was crazed. “You better bring me more coffee. It's the least you can do.”

By the time they left the store Maria was sporting an extremely colorful pair of new shoes, and her second pair was tied on the back of the bike with her heels shoved into the overpacked knapsack. All Michael had to show for it was a hefty VISA bill, a non-stop wiggling Maria, giddy over her purchases, and the humiliation of having the entire store come to the front window to wave good-bye to them. Great. She certainly blended into the scenery. The amazing thing about all of this was that the people actually looking for her hadn’t found her yet. She shone like a lighthouse in a storm. So they were either looking in the wrong place or just plain stupid.

Maria was firm to his back holding him tight. It almost made up for the nightmare of shopping with her. Not quite, but almost.

“Thanks for my new shoes.”

“They’re pink, Maria.”

“No, they’re not. They’re…”

“Pink.”

~~~

Home was an incredibly a welcome sight. Maria went upstairs to unpack her clothes and run a bath. The trip home though the desert wasn’t as hot as the trip to Tucson, but close. On his way up the stairs, he almost tripped on her pair of new shoes that she just discarded. Another thing. She was a slob. She just shed her clothes and shoes wherever, and they hit the floor and stayed there. Entering the bedroom, he stopped at the sight of her wiggling out of her clothes and suddenly couldn’t remember what his argument was.

Later they were resting in the bath, lying back and enjoying the feel of being off the road and clean, when Michael remembered the feeling he got when he walked into the door of his home.

“Someone was here. In this house. While we were gone.”

Maria sat up a little. “Are you sure?”

Michael thought about it. He had looked around, checked the security system and called the company to let them know he was back. There were no triggered alarms or incidents while he was gone, but he sensed it. His home usually sat silent, cold, emitting the vibes of emptiness when he entered it after being away. This time, it felt like something else. Like a remnant of someone being there.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure.”

Maria looked at him in concern. “Michael. The painting.”

“Yeah. Whoever it was, they know.” He could feel her increased panic. “Calm down. They came and left without leaving a trace. I think they came to confirm what they already suspected.”

“Which was what?”

“That you were with me.” Michael thought about it. “Let's see what happens, okay? I don’t think it’s the people looking for you.”

“How can you be sure?”

Michael just shook his head. “I don’t know. I just know that Burns left an impression, like his evil intent was almost like a coat he wore. This doesn’t feel like that. Can’t explain it.”

Maria rested against him and nodded. She trusted his instinct more than anyone’s. “Okay. I trust what you say. Where do we go from here?”

“That's a good question.” Michael had been pondering it for awhile. “Your father obviously lived in Roswell. I think we need to find out where. Something...someplace has to open up your memory.”

“What about Meta-Chem?”

Michael shook his head. “Going there would be a mistake. A big one. We don’t know what you got into, but given that your father works for Meta-Chem, and it's a huge conglomerate, I think we need to assume that the danger is coming from there. And that's the last place we need to walk into.”

“We’re at a dead end, aren’t we? It all comes back to me remembering. My snapped memory holds the answers.”

“Yeah. I think so. So we need to find a way to jar the memories. We’ll start by trying to locate your dad’s home, and try to find other places as well. It’s really the best we can do. We know why you were here and who you came to see. I think we can safely say that the dead man you’re drawing is your father. So watching him die…”

“Or killing him...”

Michael ignored that. “Must be the traumatic event that wiped your memory.”

“So we still have missing events.”

“Why he was killed and by who. Someone wanted him dead, and now they want you dead. My instincts say that it's Meta-Chem, but there is no way to prove that.”

“My memory.” Maria thought about it for a second. “We could break into Meta-Chem.”

Michael just laughed and got out of the cooling bath, handing her a towel as she emerged as well. “I suspect I’m a bad influence on you, Ms. DeLuca. So we break into Meta-Chem to what purpose? We already know your father worked there. But it's a big place, and unless we’re looking for something specific, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack, and even if we found the needle…we probably wouldn't even know it when we saw it.”

Maria dried her hair thoughtfully. The vision. The vision of the man. “A hotel room. A roadside motor inn. I’m positive I saw it in that waking dream. Maybe if we could find the room, we can find my memory.”

“Maybe. But if he lived in Roswell, and we know that room wasn’t yours, then it had to be his. Why would he have a motel room?” Michael asked Maria, leading her in questions.

“He couldn’t go home.”

Michael nodded. Bingo. “He was hiding from the people who were seeking him. He called you and told you where to come, so that means he more than likely didn’t register under his real name.”

“That means somewhere sleazy. Someplace where they don’t check your license.”

Michael nodded following her into the bedroom. “Nookie motel. Hourly rates and cheap décor.”

“Know any places like that, Spaceboy?”

Michael made a face. “Hey, do I look like that cheap motel type?”

“Yep.”

Michael laughed. She was right. You could take the boy out of the trailer park, but a large part of the trailer park mentality always remained. She was the same. Despite her upscale studio, her art, and the psychologically deranged collection of shoes, she was still a little girl raised by a single mom eating Mac & Cheese from a box. You could run, but there was little escape from the past that carved your very soul.

“Come to bed. We’ll work it out in the morning.”

“So what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

Michael sighed peacefully as they arranged themselves in the bed. He liked the feel of her along his body, against him. He liked knowing she was near.

“First, I need to go to town. I’ve got another tux fitting. And I think you need to paint with your eyes wide open.”

Maria nodded. The dream painting was scaring the shit out of her. The paintings were graphic, violent, and way too dark. They were like living in a wound. She needed something to balance that.

“What if I paint tonight?”

“I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Maria nodded. Then a thought occurred to her. “Michael?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember when we talked about my dressed up hoochie girl, and your horny soldiers coming a callin', chasing her all around?”

Michael chuckled and made a sound in his throat. She had a strangely unique way of looking at the world. “Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

“Well, if I remember correctly, before we left you were sadly lacking in the latex department, and I need to inform you that it is getting close to the time for my little tramp to head for the curb and make some major passes at the boys. You better add a pharmacy into your wanderings tomorrow, because…” Maria reached across him to the bedside table. “I brought all I had left from my studio, and that's only…” She quickly counted, “...three.”

Michael looked over with a frown on his face. “That won’t even get us through the night.”

“Well, we’ll just have to do other things until you can restock.”

Michael slapped her lightly on the ass. “You’re getting expensive.”

Maria laughed and moved up his body, pushing his arm over his head. He looked up sharply at the sound of a click and the feel of metal. Handcuffs. Obviously the condoms weren’t the only things she brought from Tucson.

“You have no idea...” Maria promised as she moved along his body, her mouth nipping his skin playfully.

“Oh baby…” Michael said softly.

~~~

“Thanks for giving me a lift home, Alex.”

“I’m surprised you walked. It’s been hot, and walking home in the dark isn’t really something any woman should do alone. Not even in Roswell.”

Isabel laughed. “Believe me, I’m the last person you need to worry about being unprotected. But actually, I walked because of the heat. Lately I haven’t been able to even go for a run, so the walk was a nice relief from my lack of physical exercise. Plus, the Valentis? I never leave their place this late. Usually they eat early due to the boys, and I’m out of there before nine, plus during this time of year, late spring, early summer, the sun goes down later and later.”

Alex laughed putting his hands up. “I concede. You weren’t being reckless. And giving you a ride home was my pleasure, my lady.”

“Good. Then come in for coffee.”

Alex’s whole body went still. Too much. Too close. Too soon. Looking at his watch he grimaced. “I wish I could, but it’s getting late.”

“Parents put you on a curfew?”

“No. That leash was cut long ago. I just have things I need to check out and do in the morning. Any more coffee and I’ll never sleep.”

“I’ll make decaf.”

Alex wavered. Talking to Isabel was fun. He really enjoyed his time with Kyle and Vicky, and as always the kids were great. But he actually got to spend more time with Isabel while Kyle and Vicky were putting the boys to bed. She was more than he expected. Quieter. Reserved in some ways, but she had a smile that lit up her face and seemed to move into her eyes like the light of creation. She was clean and innocent in all the ways he wasn’t anymore.

He should say no and leave, so it was a shock to find himself going into her apartment and offering to help with the coffee.

“So, really in a million years in high school, I couldn’t see you and Kyle as best friends.”

“Oh, I don’t know about best friends,” but Alex thought about it. Actually yes. Kyle was like his best friend, not just an acquaintance. “Okay, kind of. I remember when I pulled my room lottery and it was Kyle Valenti, all these nightmare scenarios popped into my head. All I could see was a lifetime, meaning at least a year, of having my sheets shorted and being the butt of various other practicaly jokes. But Kyle was different. Away from the jock group he ran with, he was totally likeable. By the end of freshman year when he pledged the Phi Delts, I was actually disappointed not to be his roommate the next year.” Alex laughed at remembering poor Kyle having to shave his head as a new pledge of the football fraternity Phi Delta Upsilon. “But we stayed in touch, got together every once in awhile, and he tried to make some of my gigs.”

“I remember you in high school.”

Alex laughed even harder. “Oh lord! Don’t! I was such a geek. Music was a way out, a touch of my soul.”

“Bass, right? You played bass.”

Alex was flattered she noticed. He didn’t think or even imagine she would. Isabel Evans was a surprise on many levels. “Yeah, I play…played bass.”

“Your girlfriend, um…Janey? She was a colorful character.”

“Janey still is. I remember being overwhelmed by her most the time. She was into this dark gothic brooding thing. Everything had to be a statement, even her music. And she really saw herself as this edge Alanis type, sort of a female Kurt Cobain.”

“You two were pretty hot, all over each other on the quads and places. Behind the bleachers. Eraser room.”

“Janey had a thing for public sex. Don’t ask.” Alex actually felt the heat rising up his neck. Damn. Long time since that happened. A lifetime ago. But somehow Isabel made him feel his young self again, that shy unassuming boy who thought he could make a difference in the world.

“So you broke up?”

“It was in the cards for the longest time. Janey didn’t do fidelity, unless it applied to me. She liked to play the field. I never knew what musician, environmental nut, or beatnik she was banging along with me, but if I showed an interest in a groupie or some other female, she became violent and unhinged. It was whacked, but at the time I really didn’t care too much.”

“So when you broke up?”

“It was like a life sentence ending. Parole.”

“Ouch!”

“Yeah, it was harsh, but I can say that I really still like her. Appreciate her much more now she is messing with someone else’s head. Janey is cool. She's just searching for something. I don't even think she knows what it is.”

Isabel looked into her cup of coffee. “What are you searching for, Alex?”

Death. Relief from the pain. Alex just smiled, putting on his charming face. “Don’t know. Maybe I’ll know it when I find it.” Alex decided it was enough about him. “And you, Isabel? Working in your dad’s law office is not how I pictured your future.”

Isabel became thoughtful. “How did you picture me?”

“New York City. Some talent agency. A society girl, I guess?”

“A model?”

Alex shook his head no. “Maybe when I was younger, but now? Nope. I’ve dated too many models and I would't wish that on anyone. Plus you have a body.” Alex scratched his eyebrow and looked at her almost shyly. “Strangely enough, I see you as a kindergarten teacher reading to small children.”

Isabel didn’t know what to say. She went for levity. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

Alex smiled. “Not in a million years. No one would consider you fat, Isabel. You look like a woman to me. A thin one. Maybe not model thin, but in truth, that’s a bonus.”

Isabel smiled again and went to refill their cups. “I think I like how you see me. The model thing, that was sort of a childhood dream, but the school teacher. That's more like an adult one. How did you know?”

Alex just shrugged. “I watched you. Watched your face when Vicky was talking tonight. It’s hard to miss the envy and the feeling of excitement. It was in your every move.”

Isabel just made a face. “Great. I’m giving myself away. I would love to do what Vicky's working towards. I find everything about her life enviable. The home. The husband who adores her, and the even the children. Okay, especially the children.”

“So why are you working in a law office? Thinking of getting a law degree?” Alex asked, curiously watching as she stirred a ton of sugar in her coffee followed by some Tabasco. She was an enigma. Something more than anything he ever met.

Isabel didn’t say. Not really. Children. Being around them hurt. They were something she couldn’t have. Ever. Watching other people’s children grow, waving goodbye to them and knowing they weren’t hers, never hers. Isabel just shrugged and drank a sip of her coffee.

Alex watched her, his dark eyes seeing more than she realized, but he backed off. Her right to keep her secrets safe, and to herself. Her right.

“I should go.” Alex got up to leave.

“I wish…” Isabel looked away. What was wrong with her? She didn’t pick up strangers. She didn’t sleep around. All her relationships were carefully thought out, almost contrived. And when they became a burden or too close, she ended them. She just smiled and showed Alex the door.

He smiled at her shyly, but something about her, something in her look seemed to touch him, and against his will, or maybe just against his better judgment, he reached for her.

His hand curled around her neck. She moved into his body and all he could feel was the softness of her mouth under his. Then too much. Too fast. Images. Feeling. Memories, his and hers melding in a hodgepodge of an endless kaleidoscope. He knew the truth. It was her. All those years. Isabel. The voice in his head had been hers, and he couldn’t understand how it happened.

Pulling from the kiss he rested he head against hers. “It was you,” he whispered.

Isabel moved her hand up his face. She didn’t know, couldn’t know what he was talking about. But she saw things. Some so sweet they made her want to smile. Young Alex. Carefree. Happy. Silly. He was so pure and honest. Then, so many other things. Things she only dreamt about in her worst nightmares. Clouds of smoke. Murder. Violence. Feelings of hate. Alex naked from the waist up. His back ripped and torn, bloodied and raw as hamburger, standing in a firestorm with small children clutching at him. Him shooting at something and standing his ground. Unwavering.

In that moment she knew. He would never break. He would never run and hide or back down. He couldn’t. Pain and life taught him too many lessons. Hard ones. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Strength. He was strong. Maybe strong enough to withstand, to understand what she was…Maybe strong enough to stay.

Alex’s eyes closed as she kissed him this time. She pushed him up against the hard door, and he dropped his jacket at his feet. If he could think or even breathe, gain a moment of sanity, he’d tell himself to run. To leave. He couldn’t. That voice, the one that had lived in his head for so long, made him feel safe, and want to live. That voice finally had a body, a corporeal form. It was Isabel.

He’d regret this later. Or maybe not.

~~~

Amy let Jim lead her to the elevator. It had been a great evening. Jim was fun, and a part of her smiled ironically. Who would have believed it? Not her. Not in a million years, growing up in Roswell where Deputy Jim Valenti was this huge ogre in her mind. Mr. Law. A symbol of injustice, what the organized government did to the socially repressed individual. Shocker.

Jim Valenti was fun. Sexy. Could sing. Honest. Straightforward. A family man.

Amy paused at her door. She looked at him. “Do you like pie?”

Jim smiled. “What kind of pie we talking about?”

“Coconut cream. I make a mean pie. Meringue. Lemon. Key Lime. All sorts. But my coconut cream is the best.”

“I love coconut cream pie. It’s my favorite.”

“Really.” Amy smiled. “I could make you one sometime.”

Jim looked pleased. “Amy, if you made me a pie, I would definitely eat it.”

Amy opened her door and bit the side of her mouth playing with one of his buttons. “That’s good to know, Sheriff. Good to know.” Disarming him with her quickness, she kissed him goodnight lightly on the lips, and before he could blink, she pulled away and smiled. “Good to know.”

Jim just stood there staring at the closed door in shock. Slowly a smile moved across his face, and he turned and walked away whistling under his breath.

~~~

“Sir.”

“What,Gerard? What? I’m busy.”

Gerard chose to ignore the woman on her knees under the desk in front of Clayton Wheeler, Jr. He wasn’t supposed to know she was there, but she was hard to miss.

“The Meta-Chem office in Roswell reports that the Police Department, specifically Sheriff Valenti was making inquiries into Maria DeLuca. Seems he has her phone records from her hotel room, and the calls were traced.”

Clayton pushed the woman off him and stood up fastening his pants. “Get out.”

Gerard found another place to look as the humiliated woman scurried from the room. He mentally reminded himself to add extra bonus to her interior decorating fee.

“Has anyone found this woman? This Maria DeLuca?”

“Not yet. Someone is protecting her. I don’t believe she has her memories. Reports from both her short hospital stay and Burns were that she had amnesia.”

Clayton snorted and tossed himself into his chair again, reaching for a cigar. Nipping off the end, he took time to concentrate on lighting it, and in a cloud of pungent smoke he looked at his assistant.

“Amnesia. That's a pile of shit. Cases suggest it surrounds a traumatic event, so even if this is true, she will remember eventually. Then what do you suggest we do, Mr. Gerard?”

“I don’t know, Sir. I just know that if she knew, if she has remembered, then the police would know. She’d go to them for her own protection.”

Clayton laughed. “Protection. Just like Jon DeLuca thought the FBI would protect him? The smartest thing this girl is doing is staying hidden.” He took another long draw off his cigar. “She must know that. So even if she regains her memories, even she must wonder where is safe, and who can be trusted, she might think she needs proof and confirmation.”

“What are you suggesting, Sir?”

Clayton stood up and walked over to look out at the night, his back to Gerard. “I’m suggesting that when she remembers, if she remembers, she’ll need to confirm the images and memories. Send our men to watch over the site. If we’re to recover her and take her from the picture, we’ll have to retrieve her there.”

“What if she never comes?”

“She will. She’ll need to know for sure.” Clayton said matter-of-factly. Turning, his evil smile was all Gerard could see.

The Bad Seed. Passed from generation to generation. It wasn’t a formless thing, or a sickness, it was an inbred indifference and a lack of morality. The Wheeler family had passed it down through the ages. The idea that they were above the law. Above others. That they could destroy and maim at will to promote their own selfish needs. Gerard, not for the first time, regretted the soul he sold decades ago to work for evil.

“When she does, I want to be there. I want to see her die this time.”

~~~

“You’re leaving.”

Alex paused on the side of the bed. He had been reaching for his clothes when her voice and the feel of her hand on his back stopped him. Isabel sat up a little and turned on a bedside light.

In the soft glow, she could see the scars on his back, the skin grafts and repairs that modern medicine tried to fix. But no one knew better than she, how deep some scars went. She had reason to know. She spent years trying to see beyond, to mend and beg forgiveness from Michael and get past his scars.

The images she had seen from Alex made sense. Cruel and vicious. Violent and tinged with a bitterness from fear. Helpless. Alex had felt helpless, not good enough, and he felt fear that he would fail. His failure would’ve meant his death, and the death of the children he liberated along with himself. Inside, he was still carrying the pain of those he couldn’t save, all those that died, and in the past few years, he still couldn’t stop thinking that, if he had been stronger, better, he might have saved more.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“So you were just going to leave without a word. Not even a ‘Thanks for the fuck’ note?”

Alex sighed. “No. I was going to leave a note.” Alex leaned over the bed to look into her face. She looked young. Innocent and vulnerable. “I promise. I was going to leave a note.”

“What? And a promise to call me tomorrow?”

“Actually, no. My cell number, a request you call me when you woke up, and a date to meet me for lunch.”

Isabel looked doubtful, but she could stop herself from hoping this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, that he wasn’t just trying to make amends for not getting out of her place fast enough.

Cold. All the rumors that Isabel was hot to look at, but cold inside were not true. She burned hot. Very hot. He had reason to know. In just touching her, he could feel a rage of energy and power, like a surge of electricity. Ice Princess his ass. If she was, it wasn’t because of her, but the men she had been involved with.

“You don’t have to leave. I’m not regretting this.”

Alex took one of her hands and gently kissed the back of it. “I’d like that to remain true. That’s why I really have to leave. I’m tired. Too tired to stay in control, and it’s getting real late.”

“I don’t understand.”

Alex knew she didn’t. She couldn’t unless he told her. But even he hated exposing how damaged and diseased he was to anyone, even to her. “I know. Just know it’s not you, it’s me.”

Isabel laughed in bitterness, and pushed him away from her. Grabbing his shirt out of his hand, she pulled it on quickly and left the bed.

“Oh, that’s just spiffy.” Alex’s eyebrow went up at that word. Isabel saw his amusement and it fed her anger. “Don’t you laugh at me! I swear, Alex…”

Alex calmly reached over and dragged her back to bed with him, ignoring her protest, and kissed her. Isabel hated him. Then she melted into the kiss as her arms went around his neck and she fell back on the bed, pulling him with her. Alex nuzzled the side of her neck and gazed down at her.

“Don’t swear. I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”

Isabel let her hand gently brush across his cheek, liking the rough feel of his early morning whiskers rasping against the pads of her fingers. “You know how many times I've used that line? That it wasn’t them…that it was me?” Alex shook his head. He couldn’t know. “Too many times. Most of the time I meant it. Most of the time. And I watched how it hurt.”

“I didn’t use it to hurt you.”

“I know. It just hurt to be on the receiving end of it for once. There was a man, a partner of my father’s. I could’ve loved him. I really could’ve, and it was all he wanted from me. But I couldn’t tell him things, things about myself. Too many years. Too much hiding, and I couldn’t release that, not even for him. The secrets I have, they’re not just mine. And not wholly mine to tell.”

Alex’s eyes darkened. “Could you tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

Alex appreciated her honesty, and admired it. He could understand secrets. How they carved a place in the soul, and how they became part of a person’s fabric.

“Then don’t. Not until you know. And don’t assume I’ll leave you, or not want to know you just because there are places in you that are hidden. I can live with your secrets, Isabel. If…if you can live with mine.”

“What are you saying, Alex?”

Alex kissing her again, his mouth slowly moving softly against her lips. He liked them all red and slightly swollen. “I’m saying have lunch with me tomorrow. Call me on my cell when you can get away, and if I can’t…I’ll let you know. We’ll make other arrangements.”

“Is this going to be a sex thing?” Isabel asked worried she was opening herself up to care more about him then he could care about her.

“No. I can find sex anywhere, as can you. Let’s just call it an 'Alex and Isabel thing', and worry about the logistics as we go along.”

“Logistics?” Despite herself, her mouth pulled at the edges.

“Yeah. Logistics.” Alex kissed her quickly. “But I’m really tired, and I really need to go.”

“Stay.”

Alex sighed. He’d love to, but…

“I can’t.”

“Then at least explain.”

Alex rubbed a thumb over her cheekbone. “I don’t sleep well. Ever. Nightmares. I sometimes can’t break free of them, and if I’m…if I have company, and I wake in an almost fugue state, their presence startles me. I react. And sometimes, it’s not good.”

“Ever hurt anyone?” Isabel asked, sorting through the scenes of violence that she had picked up from him.

“Once. Once was enough. Now I never stay. Like I said, it’s not you. I’d love to wake up next to you, and maybe start this all over again in a few hours, but I can’t risk it.”

Isabel reached for him. “Stay anyway. I’m willing to risk it, so let it be my choice.”

“Isabel…”

“Just stay.” Isabel smiled at him.

“Oh, do not use that Isabel Evans charming smile on me.”

“Is it working?”

Alex laughed despite himself, and more at himself. Of course it was working. “Okay, I’ll stay, but I refuse to sleep. I can’t take a chance…”

“Okay. No sleeping. Sooooo, what should we do to pass the remaining few hours until daytime?” Isabel asked not even bothering to remove the amusement from her voice.

“I have some ideas.”

That really made her laugh. “I’m sure you do.” Alex looked at her.

“You going to give me back my shirt?”

“You might have to take it back by force.”

Alex moved in on her threateningly, but when his mouth touched hers it was gently, soft and exploring. His hands moved over her like he was touching something valuable, and breakable.

“I thought you would be harsher, rougher, and not so gentle.”

Alex kissed her neck. “I can be that way, when time dictates the need. Why? You like it that way better?”

“It has its moments, but no. I just felt a suppressed violence in you, and I thought that…”

“You are a very naughty girl, Isabel Evans, inviting the devil into your bed.”

“That’s not what makes me naughty, Mr. Whitman. It’s trying to keep him here.”

Alex laughed at that and rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him. He sucked her finger into his mouth, and then gently nibbled on it, admiting to himself that he wanted to stay.

She was no stranger to him. Not really. He had heard her voice in his head for years now, and she saved him many times. Maybe someday she could finish the job, and he could find a way to return the favor.

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