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But if she did, if she let herself believe in him, trust hi
m, she could lose everything.
Why would he help her? That was the key question, the starting point for all of it. And there was no good reason, nothing that made sense. There was nothing in it for him.
No, he had to be stringing her along, he had to be. He was waiting for her to break down, to trust him completely, and then he'd pull the rug out from underneath her, leaving her breathless at the turnaround.
She could almost hear his laughter in the rustling of the wind on the water. You didn't really believe I'd take you to the Rock, did you? You didn't really believe ...
She couldn't afford to believe in him. She had to bide her time and play along, find out what his angle was. She'd play along with his little game as long as they remained heading east.
She wouldn't trust him.
A shiver of longing moved through her. But, God, she wished that she could.
She was blind. Either that, or it was exceedingly dark out.
Lainie loosed a throaty giggle. It sounded a little hysterical, a little ragged around the edges, but that wasn't surprising. She was dead drunk and dead tired. A deadly combination, she thought with another laugh.
She made a lunging stab at getting to her feet.
"Having a little balance problem?" Killian's growly voice came from nowhere.
Blinking hard, she looked around for him. At the sudden movement, her legs wobbled, turned watery. She sank to her knees on the cold ground.
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His gaze flicked from her to the fallen, empty whiskey bottle. One eyebrow lifted slowly, mockingly.
She winced. Embarrassment moved through her in a hot wave, brought a flush to her cheeks that irritated the hell out of her. She lifted her heavy head and tried to focus on Killian. He was a blur of flesh and cloth and silver hair. "Jesus, Lainie, what are you doing?"
"Genuflecting. I thought it was required."
He laughed unexpectedly. It was a rich, rumbling sound that filled her with a vague sense of loss and longing. "Only on Sundays. You may rise."
Easy for you to say. She staggered to her feet, trying to look casual, even though she felt as if she were climbing the face of K2.
"So," he said with a sigh. "You're drunk."
"Nooo." She giggled and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth. It had sounded strained, that laugh, and the very tenor of it depressed her. It reminded her harshly that she was running from something?just like Vi had said?running hard and fast and getting nowhere.
"I can't say I'm surprised."
She frowned. Unable to see him clearly, she stumbled forward until his face came into focus. "Whaddaya mean by that?"
"You're afraid to believe I'll get you to the Rock," he said quietly. "I know a little something about fear."
"Ha!" It was a harsh, grating sound that wanted to be a laugh and wasn't.
"Really? Then why get blind drunk the second I turn my back?"
She gave him a crooked, soggy grin. "Shows how much you know. I always get blind drunk. It has nothing to do with you."
He stared at her a long time. She shifted uneasily be-
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neath his perusal, and knew that she wasn't drunk enough to be with him, that she might never be drunk enough. His eyes seemed to pierce her armor, to see the frightened, vulnerable girl she'd never been able to completely eradicate. "Let's go to bed, Lainie."
