This was more than just great sex. More than just love. It was a completeness. A wholeness. Surely she had to see that. He leaned against her, breathing in the warm scent of her and listening to the rapid pounding of their hearts. His body stirred.
It wasn't enough. Not yet.
Without a word, he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. They made love through the rest of the afternoon, speaking with actions not words, until their bodies could take no more and they fell asleep.
It was only when he woke and saw he was alone in the bed that he realized she had, in her own way, just said good-bye.
Chapter Thirteen
Nikki walked. Numbly. Aimlessly.
Dusk crowded the sky and fingers of fog drifted in around her, precursors to the thick, white blanket beginning to roll off the bay. People bustled past her, so full of energy and life they made her feel old.
Lights blazed through the streets, lending a warmth to the oncoming night.
Not that she'd ever feel warm again. It felt as if someone had ripped out her heart and left an empty block of ice in its place. She felt dead—not just her heart but her mind as well. And she wished, for perhaps the thousandth time since she'd woken, that she could just take back the words and leave things as they'd been.
But she couldn't. She'd said what she'd said and, in the process, had probably destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to her. But better death by her own words than a slow and painful one over the next few years. They couldn't have kept going as they were. Couldn't have.
She pushed away the doubts that crowded her mind. She couldn't allow doubts, or she just might break down and cry. She blinked back the tears that crowded her eyes anyway, then rubbed her arms. The night was getting colder, the fog thicker. She looked around, wondering for the first time where she was.
She didn't recognize any of the buildings. But then, what she knew of San Francisco came from watching the various TV shows set here over the years.
In the distance a light twinkled, catching her eye. She frowned at it for several seconds and it gradually became a cross. A church, she thought. Though she'd never entered a church in her life, there was something about that cross that seemed to draw her.
She walked towards it. Wet fingers of mist played across her skin, and the darkness seemed to close in.
The noisy rush of traffic began to fade away until all that remained in the night was the rasp of her breathing, and the steady, glowing light of that cross. A light that was oddly visible, no matter what turn she took or what building rose in front of her.
A chill raced across her skin. Magic swirled through the night, so strong she could almost taste it. She licked dry lips but kept on walking. She could sense no evil in the magic that danced around her, but that didn't mean there wasn't any. Sparks danced across her fingers, lighting the night like tiny fireflies.
She rounded another corner. A cathedral loomed in front of her—large, Gothic, and beautiful. The cross was as dark as the church itself, but the sense of magic still stung the air.
Her steps slowed, then stopped. She listened to the night, watching the fog drift through the trees.
Waiting, but for what she didn't know.
A sound invaded the odd silence. A soft tapping, like that of wood against concrete. She frowned, then jumped as her phone rang. Heart pounding somewhere in her throat, she dug the phone out of her pocket.
"Yes?"
The tapping stopped. The night seemed to be holding its breath, as if waiting.
"Jeez, Nikki, where the hell are you?" Jake said. "We've been worried sick here."
"If Michael was worried sick, he would have come looking for me." And he would have undoubtedly found her, too. Even though she still had her end of the link shut down tight, there was still something between them that would always allow one to find the other.
"He said you needed the space. That make any sense to you?"
She snorted despite the cold ache in her heart. Part of her had hoped he'd come after her. "He's probably hoping I'll come to my senses."
Jake paused. "What do you mean?"
"It means I'm leaving him. Once we finish this job, it's over between us. He won't compromise in any way, and I'm sick of being second best."
Jake blew out his breath, the sound almost a sigh over the phone. "Nikki, at least think about it a while longer. It's nearly Christmas, for God's sake."
"Won't be the first Christmas I've spent alone."
And it certainly wouldn't be the last. She had an eternity of them to look forward to. No sharing kisses under the mistletoe. No drinking eggnog and stealing a look at the presents under the tree on Christmas Eve. She bit her lip and blinked away the sting in her eyes.
"Nikki, you and Michael were made for each other. I'm sure this could all be sorted out if you just sit down and talk."
She closed her eyes, holding on to her determination by the slenderest of margins. "We have talked.
And talked."
"This is stupid and you know it."
"Ask Mary how stupid I'm being. I bet she'd understand exactly why I'm doing this." After all, she'd been second best to Jake's true passion—his job—for the last thirty years. Something Nikki had only just begun to see and understand in the last couple of days.
Jake swore softly. "Look, Michael has to go meet Farmer soon. He wants us to keep out of the hotel and to keep moving around."
"I'm out of the hotel and moving around."
"Together, Nikki. Not separately."
Anger flicked through her. He was still ordering. Still not trusting her to be able to look after herself. She studied the night for a moment and knew there was something here, something instinct suggested she needed to see.
"I have to do something first," she said. "Take a phone with you, and I'll call you when I'm finished."
"Nikki—" "And if they use real silverware in that fancy hotel of yours," she cut in, "I'd grab a couple of knives. Just to be on the safe side."
She hit the "end" button then turned off the phone and shoved it back into her pocket. The soft tapping resumed almost immediately.
The night grew colder, its touch almost icy. A breeze swirled around her, tangling her hair and chasing chills down her back. Yet ten feet away, the fog stirred sluggishly through the still limbs of a tree.
An old woman became visible, tapping a cane against the sidewalk in front of her with every step. She was small and gnarled, with clothes that were as gray as the fog and just as flimsy.
The taste of magic increased, tingling across her skin. Sparks skittered across her fingers, sending flickers of red and gold dancing through the damp darkness.
"You'll not be needing that weapon against the likes of me."
The old woman's voice was melodious, soft and yet somehow powerful. She stopped and, though a bare five feet separated them, Nikki couldn't see her eyes. It was almost as if she didn't have any—and yet, if that were the case, how could she know about the energy dancing across Nikki's fingers? Surely it wasn't caressing the night that strongly.
"Why have you called me here?" Nikki had no doubt the magic she sensed was coming from this woman. And she had no intention of dropping her guard, no matter how safe her instincts were suggesting that would be.
The old woman smiled, revealing stained teeth and black gaps. "I am not the one who summoned you. I have merely been chosen to escort and explain. Come along, young woman."
She turned, tapping towards the church. Nikki's hesitation was brief. She had no idea who was crazier—the old woman, or her for following—but it didn't matter. The scent of magic was so strong it practically crawled across her skin, and it was obvious something was about to happen. Oddly enough, she felt no fear. No sense of approaching doom. Maybe her instincts had finally given up and gone away, as she'd once wished.