Drawn into Darkness Read online

  She locked the car doors. The only parking spot she’d been able to find had been way at the back, next to a big blue garbage Dumpster. On the plus side, the nearby cluster of maples would shade the car in the afternoon and alleviate the sweltering heat of the drive home. Oh, to have air-conditioning.

  “Rachel.”

  She spun around to face the trees.

  There, leaning against a sturdy gray trunk, partially cloaked by shade, stood Lachlan MacGregor. But not the take-charge, confident version she was used to. This one was hunched over, head bent, one leg supporting the bulk of his weight.

  She took a tentative step forward, a little afraid of what his sagging appearance meant. But as she drew closer, details became visible and Rachel gasped. His unshaven face was deathly pale, one eye sported a large purple bruise, and his nose had a lump that hadn’t been there before. There were a dozen places on his body that looked singed, and those slices in his black suit … were they knife wounds?

  Portfolio banging against her legs, she ran to him. Her shaky fingers grazed along the shredded edges of his jacket, feeling a crusty dampness that her thumping heart told her was blood. Up close, she saw more cuts—on his arms, his chest, everywhere. “Oh my God, what happened?”

  “Drusus and I had our little … chat.”

  “Since when do chats involve knives? His gang sure did a number on you—you’re bleeding all over the grass.”

  “It’s no’ as bad as it looks.”

  “Really?” she said, trying to sound calm, doing her best not to think about just how much blood he’d lost. With so many cuts, it must be gallons. “You look like you were run over with a lawn mower.”

  “Oddly enough, that’s exactly how it feels.” He smiled, a jumbled expression of amusement and confusion. His leg gave out and he slid down the trunk of the tree to sit in the grass.

  Rachel dug into her purse, her fingers suddenly nerveless. “I’m calling 911. You need to get to a hospital.”

  “No.” He covered her hand with his.

  “Lachlan, you could die.”

  A short chuckle escaped his dry, cracked lips. “Trust me, I’m no’ going to die. Drusus was very careful about how far he went. See for yourself, the bleeding has almost stopped.”

  Rachel shook her head, but she put the phone away. He was right; the bleeding had definitely slowed. “Why did you come here, you idiot? You should’ve gone straight to a hospital.”

  “I needed to see you,” he said, his voice low. His dark eyes unerringly found hers in the dim light.

  “Why? D-did he threaten me?”

  “I’m just a worrier.” Lachlan shifted, pushing up with one hand, straightening against the tree. “I’ll be back on my feet soon enough, but in the meantime, don’t talk to him, don’t listen to him, even if it involves Emily. Promise me.”

  “This is getting out of hand. We should go to the police. One look at you and they’ll lock him up.”

  “No, they won’t. There weren’t any witnesses. It’ll be his word against mine.”

  One cut on his thigh, an ugly red gash nearly six inches long, oozed blood at his movement, and concern overrode Rachel’s budding anger that Drew might go free. “I’m driving you to the hospital. Now. That cut needs stitches.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t argue. Get in the car.”

  “All right.” He reached for a low branch and hauled himself to his feet—an action that brought sharp lines of strain to his brow.

  If his easy acquiescence wasn’t enough to make her hurry, she didn’t know what was. He was weak as a kitten, and given Lachlan’s penchant for exercise, that couldn’t be a good thing. She unlocked the car, then darted back to Lachlan’s side to help him walk. But when she went to put an arm around his waist, he jerked upright.

  “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “But—”

  Displaying more energy than she thought him capable of, he yanked open the car door and slid awkwardly onto the seat. “Just drive, Rachel.”

  She grimaced. Men and their stupid macho bullshit. She joined him in the car, backed out of the parking spot, and zoomed toward the gated entrance. “O’Connor Hospital is the closest. I can have us there in a couple minutes.”

  “That’s if this death trap of a car doesn’t kill us first.”

  She glanced at him.

  His head lolled on the headrest and his eyes were closed, but he was smiling faintly.

  “Was that a joke? You must be hurt worse than I thought.”

  He opened his eyes. “Are you accusing me of having no sense of humor?”

  “You are a bit serious,” she pointed out.

  His smile deepened. “Only a bit?”

  Rachel stared into his unsettling gray-blue eyes a tad too long and almost rammed into the back end of a bright green Volkswagen Beetle. When she slammed on the brakes, pitching them both forward, Lachlan grunted.

  “Sorry,” she said, wincing at his pallor. “Uh, we’re here.”

  As she flung open her door, Lachlan said, “No, don’t get out. I’ll walk in on my own.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  He grabbed her arm, preventing her exit—amazingly strong for a guy on death’s door. “It’s ten to nine.”

  Rachel bit her lip. If she left now, she could still make it to work in time for the assessment meeting with Celia, the meeting to decide whether the launch date of the product would slip. “I can’t just leave you here.”

  “Yes, you can. It’s only a couple of feet to the Emergency Room door. I can make it on my own—I swear.”

  With her having been MIA at the office all weekend, no one would know how many designs she’d completed. People would be panicking. “Promise me you won’t faint from lack of blood before you get there.”

  “Okay.” He smiled and tucked a wavy lock of hair behind her ear. “Promise me you won’t talk to Drusus.”

  “Okay. But what do I do if he shows up?”

  “Call me. My cell phone number is—”

  “Wait.” Rachel opened her purse and dug deep, pulling out a handful of markers, elastics, paperclips, and coins. She selected a fine-point black marker and thrust the rest back in. “Ready.”

  She wrote the number on her palm.

  Stiffly, he maneuvered out of the car and shut the door, then limped around to her open window. “Thank you.”

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to settle her thoughts in preparation for the meeting. But her eyes kept straying to Lachlan’s pale face.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “Go.”

  She sighed at the fatigue etched into the corners of his mouth, and giving in to a rather possessive urge, grabbed his chin and planted a firm kiss on his lips. “Don’t die on me, Lachlan MacGregor, or I’ll be very angry.”

  He smiled, his eyes impossibly gentle.

  She dug into her purse again, pulled out a bottle of Tylenol Extra Strength, and thrust it into his hands. “In case … I don’t know, just in case.”

  Then she put the car in gear and roared away.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” Brian asked.

  Lachlan grimaced as he opened the taxi door and slid onto the seat. He’d asked himself that very question a thousand times while waiting in front of the hospital. “What took you so long?”

  “Don’t drive, remember? So I had to call a cab. And when you called, you neglected to mention you were bleeding all over the sidewalk.” Brian quoted Lachlan’s address to the cabbie, then sat back and studied the patchwork of burns and slices. “Seriously, you look like shit. What happened?”

  “I got my arse kicked.”

  “I see that. The other guy’s a stiff, I assume?”

  “No.” Unfortunately, Drusus was alive and well. Lachlan dug a black thread out of the coagulating wound on his leg. Most of his injuries had already crusted into scabs, but not the one on his thigh.

  “You lost a fight with a demon?” The enormity of Brian’
s surprise was mollifying. “And you’re still around? I don’t get it.”

  Debating the best response, Lachlan stared out the window as the taxi coasted down the semicircular drive of the hospital and onto Di Salvo.

  “Jeez, did you run?”

  “No, I bloody well did no’ run,” he said, glaring at the younger Gatherer. “The bastard spared me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he wants me to suffer as much as possible.” And there was a damned good chance he’d use Rachel to do it.

  “Ah,” Brian said, the light of understanding finally shining in his eyes. “You got punked by the creepy pedophile. Well, I’ve got some news that might make you feel a bit better.”

  “What is it?” The cab hit a pothole, and he winced.

  “Uh, you need us to pull over?”

  “No.”

  “You’re looking a little green.”

  “Just get to the point, Webster.”

  “I mean it; you look like you’re going to—” Brian caught Lachlan’s eye and halted. Still, incorrigible pup that he was, he reached across and cracked Lachlan’s window open before saying, “We made first contact this morning, and I think it went pretty well.”

  “Carlos met with Emily?”

  “Yeah. I signed him up at the school this morning and made sure they bumped into each other at lunch. We’re taking things slow, natch, but things are headed in the right direction.”

  “Did they talk?”

  “Not exactly. Unless you count talking with their eyes.”

  Lachlan rubbed at his unbruised eye with the heel of his hand. “Relationships can take weeks to develop,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’m no’ sure this is worth the risk.”

  “Come on, even gathering is a huge risk these days. I say we run with Carlos for as long as we can.”

  “There are other avenues to pursue.”

  The taxi halted in front of the whitewashed apartment building, and the two men rolled out. After he paid the driver, Brian turned to Lachlan.

  “Those avenues involve me and the other guys, right?”

  “No. This is between me and Drusus.”

  “Uh, looked in a mirror lately? I’ll let you in on a little secret: The one-on-one thing was a botch.”

  No doubt about that. But if anything, the severity of his thrashing only confirmed how senseless it would be to pull the other Gatherers into his troubles, and how unbelievably foolish and risky his budding relationship with Rachel was. He was going to get her killed. “It’s no’ your fight.”

  “Sure it is. He’s a demon, and we fight demons.”

  “Let it go,” Lachlan said wearily. His head was throbbing, and he was not in the mood to argue.

  “No, I won’t let it go. Don’t count us out, MacGregor. I’m telling you, you’re going to need all the help you can get taking this whack-job out.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “You do that.”

  Twisting the cap off Rachel’s bottle of Tylenol, Lachlan tossed back two caplets. Speaking of whack-jobs, another visit to Stefan was definitely in order.

  “Sorry, buddy.” Brian patted Lachlan’s arm with exaggerated care. “I’ve got a gather scheduled, or I’d come upstairs and make you some chicken noodle soup.”

  “Sod off.”

  The other man grinned. “If you’re lucky, maybe your hot babe will show up and give you a cuddle.”

  “And if you’re lucky and you leave quickly, you’ll avoid the drubbing I’m still very capable of giving you.”

  Brian laughed.

  But he also made a hasty retreat down the driveway.

  Which was wise, because between Lachlan’s pounding headache and the tempting but impossible thought of cuddling with Rachel, his mood was souring at an exponential rate.

  * * *

  Rachel hung up the phone, frowning. Lachlan wasn’t at the hospital. In fact, the emergency triage nurse said they had no record of him at all. Which meant what? That he’d let her drive him all the way to the hospital and then gone home without seeing a doctor?

  She grimaced. Idiot. He needed help. She could call him on his cell phone and warn him she was coming, or … just show up.

  “Mandy, can you check these files in for me?”

  “Sure, Rache.” Her friend accepted the disc, then, curious, tilted her stylishly tousled blond head. “But why can’t you do it yourself?”

  “I’m leaving early.”

  Her response was met with silence.

  “They really liked my nature set,” Rachel said brightly, avoiding Mandy’s reproving stare. “And I finished off two more of Matt’s sample files.”

  “Yeah, but Celia was royally pissed that you didn’t come in on the weekend, and the group as a whole is still behind. If we hadn’t squeezed more time out of the printers, we’d be in deep shit. We have three more days, that’s it.”

  “Yeah, when I told Nigel I needed to leave, he freaked. Then he made me promise to finish off the rest of Matt’s sample files by tomorrow night.”

  “Yikes! Are you crazy?”

  “A friend of mine is really sick,” she said. “I have to go check on him.”

  “Him?” Mandy spun around in her chair and favored Rachel with a sly look. “I hope this friend is worth the six extra files. Is he cute?”

  “Cute? No,” Rachel said wryly. Lachlan would probably choke over that description. And he definitely hadn’t looked cute the last time she saw him—not with a whopping bruise around his eye and that nasty bump on his nose.

  “What’s his name?”

  Sensing the questions were going to continue until Mandy got a juicy morsel of gossip, Rachel smiled sweetly at the other woman. “Father MacGregor.”

  “A priest? Oh, come on. You’re pulling my leg.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Mandy gave a defeated huff and turned back to her computer. “You really gotta get a life, Rache.”

  “Trust me, I’m working on it.”

  All the way home, Rachel mulled over her last throw-away comment to Mandy. Was she really working on getting a life? Or just setting herself up for further grief? A couple of kisses did not add up to a relationship. Hell, she didn’t even know if a relationship was possible. Some priests could marry, of course, but was Lachlan one of them?

  Not that she was signing up for marriage again, of course. One drive around that block was plenty.

  She parked the car in her usual spot and took the stairs. The object of her internal debate opened his apartment door after only one knock, looking anything but cute, but undeniably heart-stopping.

  “Rachel.”

  He stood there, staring at her. No naked chest this time, but his short-sleeved clerical shirt allowed her to admire the ropy muscles of his arms and imagine them wrapped around her. An event was probably not in the cards today, given his injuries, although he did look a lot healthier. The bruise had faded to a greenish yellow and he even had a bit of color in his cheeks.

  “Are you going to invite me inside, or leave me standing in the hallway?”

  His long pause was hardly flattering.

  “Come in,” he said finally.

  She glanced around as she entered. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No.”

  The terse response sent a ripple of unease through her, and she whirled to face him. Had she made a mistake coming here? Misinterpreted his kisses and the warmth in his eyes? “Did I do something to annoy you?”

  “No.”

  “Then, what’s with the chilly greeting?”

  He released a slow breath. “I’m in a foul mood, Rachel. No’ really fit company right now.”

  Concerned, she reached out to touch his face. “Are you in pa—?”

  He leapt back, bumping his shoulder against the wall and wincing. “Bloody hell.”

  Watching him straighten, his skin gray and his lips in a tight slash, she grimaced. “You should be in bed.”

  “That’s the last pl
ace I need to be.”

  “Those cuts—”

  “Are healing just fine. Take my word for it.”

  “Lachlan, you’re hurt worse than you’re willing to admit. I mean, look at you, you just swore. Priests don’t do that, not healthy ones at any rate.”

  “I’m no’ a priest.”

  “What?” Her laugh came out a little broken, and her gaze darted for reassurance to the beaten-silver cross hanging around his neck. “Of course you are.”

  “No.” His eyes met hers, hard, daring her to argue further. He plucked at his black shirt. “This is a disguise.”

  A dribble of fear mingled with her confusion. “B-but why? Why would you need a disguise?”

  “To keep people away. I live alone and I like it that way. This charade helps me maintain my … privacy.”

  Rachel stared at him for a long, stunned moment, then dropped to the short stairs leading to the living room, suddenly exhausted—suddenly convinced. He wasn’t a priest. It matched what her instincts had been telling her all along. “You’d rather live a lie than let people get close.”

  “It’s easier.”

  “On who?”

  He was silent.

  “So, you’re not a priest. Great. That makes pretty much everything I know about you a lie. Is Lachlan even your real name?”

  “Aye.”

  She wasn’t sure what to make of his terse response. No hurried assurances that the rest of what he’d told her was the absolute truth, probably because it wasn’t. “You know this calls into question your story about Drew, don’t you?”

  “No, it doesn’t. Trust your instincts, Rachel. I shared nothing about my history with Drusus until you came to me, already frightened. Discount my words if you choose to, but don’t discount what your gut is telling you. You know he’s dangerous.”

  Yes, she did. The sick feeling in her belly settled a bit. “What do you do, then, if you’re not a priest? For a living?”

  “I have a few investments.”

  “Enough to cover the rent on a three-bedroom apartment in Southern California and the lease on an Audi.” Again, silence.

  “A sane woman would doubt every word that spilled out of your mouth at this point. Me? I’m a sap. I look at your stupid, beat-up face and I believe you.” She glanced at him. “Why are you telling me this now?”