Wicked Burn(46)
Author: Beth Kery

“Niall?” he asked sharply.

She didn’t speak. Vic saw that the pupils of her eyes had dilated in fear as she stared down the street in the direction of the backfiring car.

“Niall!” he repeated.

She started, and dropped the shopping bag in her right hand. The silk scarf that she’d bought for her mother spilled out of it, making a crimson slash along the snow-covered pavement.

“It was a car backfiring,” Vic said more harshly than he intended as he squeezed Niall’s upper arm. The wild, cornered expression made a primitive alarm blare in his brain. He said her name again, this time more softly, a note of entreaty lacing through his tone.

She stared up at him in complete, utter nonrecognition.

Vic took one look at her and hailed a passing cab. He bent and picked up the bag and its contents before he herded Niall into the backseat.

By the time Vic unlocked his apartment door at the Riverview Towers, Niall had mostly recovered. Still, she didn’t protest when Vic guided her into the living room and gently pushed her onto the couch before he went to the kitchen and began rattling around in the cabinets.

“Thank you,” she muttered hoarsely when he handed her a glass of Scotch half a minute later. She shivered. The liquor tore like fire down her throat, thawing not only her profound chill but also the numbness that suffused her. She noticed that the liquor trembled in the glass. It mortified her that she couldn’t seem to stop shaking, especially when she felt Vic’s steady gaze on her.

She set the glass down abruptly on the coffee table. Her ears buzzed strangely in the ensuing silence.

“Why don’t you tell me about it,” Vic finally said quietly.

Niall inhaled deeply and stared out at the glittering skyline.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Vic shifted toward her on the couch. “Sorry for what, exactly? Are you apologizing for the fact that that a car backfiring on the street sent you into a state of shock? Because surely you know there’s no reason to apologize for that.” His fingers curved around her chin, tilting her face toward him. “Or are you apologizing for the fact that you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s hurting you? Is that why you’re saying you’re sorry, Niall?”

Her lips fell open. The words caught in her throat, causing a choking sensation.

“I want to tell you about it,” she said brokenly.

His eyes narrowed. “But?”

She cursed the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Dammit, why did they leave her body so easily when the words wouldn’t? Niall thought bitterly. She saw Vic’s expression shift when he saw her tears. She wiped at them with the back of her hand and stood jerkily. The last thing she wanted at that moment was his pity. His compassion, yes.

Although there was no guarantee that was what his reaction would be, was there?

She sensed him approaching her from behind where she stood at the windows overlooking the city.

“I know that something bad must have happened to you . . . something that causes those nightmares you have . . . something that makes you sad and scared. I see it in your eyes.”

She swallowed heavily. His voice sounded so kind and gentle. She wanted to unburden herself so much that it felt like an ache in her chest. To have Vic hold her, comfort her—love her as much as she loved him, despite everything—seemed like a beautiful, elusive dream.

If only she didn’t feel like she would lose every ounce of her control once she started talking. If only she was one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t judge her.

It should have been you, Niall.

A spasm wracked her chest and throat when she felt his long fingers gently caressing her neck, soothing her. She wondered if she wasn’t even more shocked than Vic appeared to be when she abruptly moved away from him.

“I . . . want to talk to you about this, Vic. I just can’t right now,” she said in a rush. She wasn’t looking at him but could easily imagine his rugged features pulling tight with concern and frustration.

“All right,” she heard Vic say after a long pause. “I’m not going to push you about it, baby.”

Niall just nodded her head. She stilled in the process of picking up one of her shopping bags.

“What the hell are you doing?” Vic asked sharply.

Niall could barely get some saliva down her throat in order to speak, she was so choked with emotion. “I . . . I think I better go.”

That galvanized Vic into action. He was beside her immediately. “No, Niall. You shouldn’t be alone. If you don’t want to talk right now, fine, but . . .”

Niall just shook her head rapidly as she pointedly avoided Vic’s stare. Her misery threatened to explode out of her at any moment. The feeling frightened her.

“I have to go,” she mumbled. When she felt Vic’s hand on her arm restraining her, she threw him off forcefully as the fingers of panic closed around her throat.

In the end she left the shopping bags and her coat behind, blindly grabbing at her purse before she made a hasty retreat from Vic’s apartment.

Niall left a message on Rose Gonzalez’s voice mail and shuffled to the next message that Kendra had just given her from Anne Rothman. The first thing she’d done once the pieces of paper were in her hand was check to see if Vic’s name was among them.

It hadn’t been. But then again, she hadn’t really expected it to be. Not after she’d thrown him off her and raced out of his apartment last night.

She’d spent the morning in meetings. She could only be thankful that the nature of the meetings didn’t require her to participate much, as exhausted and listless as she felt after her sleepless night. Considering how she felt, she was half hoping that Anne wouldn’t answer her phone when Niall returned her call. But she did, of course.

“Hey! I’m glad you got back so soon. Are you free for lunch? Guess who I’m meeting at the the Walnut Room?” Anne asked.

“I don’t know, Anne. I’m really busy . . .”

“Well, you have to eat, and it’s just across the street, for goodness sake. Besides, it’s the holidays. When else are you supposed to take long lunches that possibly include two . . . or even three . . . glasses of wine? Besides it’s practically a family occasion. That’s the surprise—I’m meeting with Meg Sandoval! She told me to call and invite you. It’s sort of a last-minute thing on her part. Remember how we talked the last time we all had dinner about one of my graduate students possibly going downstate to teach an art history class to gifted kids? Well, her school board just approved the money for it, and it looks like the Institute is going to approve more than just the funds to pay a graduate student. It looks good for us to offer programs in rural areas. Besides, it’s good P.R. for the Institute. Anyway, you can hear more about it at lunch.”