The Midnight Hour - Brenda Jackson [81]
Rage consumed him; tore into him and his mind seemed to snap when he remembered the hurt, the pain, and the anguish. "Damn you, how could you do that to me!"
Tori flinched like she had been struck and anger consumed her as well. It overtook her mind and ripped through her senses. "Damn you back, you selfish bastard!" she shouted, tightly wound and springing into action with his words-words that had been like a knife cutting into her. "Do you think you're the only one who suffered those five years, Drake Warren? I went through several painful surgeries, at times just barely holding on to my life. I awoke from a coma only to be told I had a new identity and the man I loved more than life itself, could never know that I was still alive. Do you know how hard it's been for me these past five years? You're not the only one who was hurting. But for me things didn't end there. I had to live looking over my shoulder and stay in constant fear that one day Cross would find out the truth and retaliate. Then there were those reports I would hear about you acting like a jackass and playing Russian roulette with your life. Don't you know the risk I took defying Hawk's orders and going to that hospital to see you eight months ago? Do you know what-"
"You?" he asked, cutting into her words, clearly stunned. "You were the woman who came into my hospital room? The woman Ashton actually saw?" The question was asked in an unbelieving quiet tone.
"Yes," she snapped. "And I'd do it again if it means keeping you alive, but I won't let you stand here and make it seem like you were the only victim in this. Damn you, I was hurting, too."
Drake sucked oxygen into his lungs, refusing to believe that any of this was happening. He was in some type of a dream, worse yet, some friggin' nightmare. When he woke up everything around him, including his life, would be back to normal-at least as normal as he'd known it for the last five years. But all he had to do was stare at the woman glaring at him to know that was not the case.
He couldn't think rationally. Hell, he couldn't think at all. He was a man who was forever galvanized for action, and his body was radiating with anger of the worst kind. The room suddenly felt like it was closing in on him. He needed to think. He needed to come to terms with what Tori had just told him. He needed to beat the hell of out something, kick somebody's ass, break someone's bones, or better yet, bury a body alive.
He needed to get the hell out of there.
He inhaled sharply, turned abruptly, crossed the room and walked out the kitchen door, slamming it behind him.
Tori watched him leave and, unsure of the strength of her legs, she made it to the chair and sat down. She knew that in time she would feel calm again but for now, her body was wired, coiled tight, filled with anger. For five years she had been her own tower of strength, her own voice of reason, her own source of sanity. But now, tonight, at that very moment, she felt alone* weak, forsaken.
As tears fell from her eyes, she dropped her head onto her arms and cried.
Trevor Grant and Ashton Sinclair.
The two names were on the Red Hunter's list as friends of Warren. Friends who would eventually lead him to Warren and Green. He sat in a rental car, parked at the curve on a residential street of beautiful, stately homes. A couple of times a few joggers had come by, given him a curious glance, but had kept moving.
Damn. People were so leery these days but he could understand why with the way sickies were snatching up kids and all. He didn't like sitting and waiting for Sinclair to come home but had no choice. He breathed a sigh of relief minutes later as he watched Ashton Sinclair pull into his driveway. Since he hadn't driven into the garage to park, it stood to