Free Solid as Steele by REBECCA YORK

of the way so that she could get closer to him. As she wrestled with the bedclothes, she felt him go very still.
    Suddenly, he lifted his weight off of her and rolled to his back, dragging in great draughts of air as he lay beside her on the bed, pressing his hands against the mattress. His whole body looked like an arrow about to fly from a bowstring, and she knew that was her fault.
    â€œMack?” she whispered, hearing the broken sound of her own voice.
    â€œWe can’t do this.”
    â€œWhy not?” she asked in a shaky voice.
    â€œI came in here because you were having a bad dream. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”
    â€œYou’re not.”
    â€œYou know damn well I would be!” he said, and the force of his denial shook her to the core.
    He was right. She’d reached for him because she was scared, and he’d stopped to give her time to consider what she was doing.
    â€œThank you,” she whispered.
    He took another breath and let it out. “Tell me about the dream.”
    She shuddered. She didn’t want to relive it or talk about it. But maybe that was a good way to cool herself down.
    â€œI was back in that horrible funhouse.”
    â€œYou were Lynn Vaughn again, reliving the experience?”
    â€œNo!” Her denial rang out in the darkness of the bedroom.
    â€œThen what?” he asked in the maddeningly reasonable voice she had come to hate.
    â€œI was another woman.” She gulped. “His next victim.” As she said the last part, her voice broke, and she began to cry.
    She tried to scramble off the bed, but Mack reached out, wrapped his fingers around her arm and kept her on the bed. Turning, he cradled her in his arms again. This time there was nothing sexual about the way he held her as he stroked her back and shoulders. It was pure comfort.
    She closed her eyes and stayed in his arms, struggling to get control of herself. And finally she was able to shove the tears away as she realized something important. Last time, he’d thought she had some special knowledge of Lynn Vaughn—that she was giving him information she’d gotten in some normal way. Not now.
    â€œThis time you’ll have to believe me,” she whispered, her voice not quite steady.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œIt’s happening again. But we’re together in this hotel suite. You’ll have to know I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
    â€œOkay,” he said, but she couldn’t help feeling like the response was automatic.
    â€œYou’ll find out in the morning,” she said again.
    â€œWho was it this time?” he asked in flat voice.
    She waited a beat, struggling and failing to dredge up a name. “I don’t know.”
    â€œYou said you’re always familiar with the person.”
    â€œYes. But this is different. I don’t know the woman. At least I don’t think so.”
    â€œWhat happened, exactly?”
    â€œIt’s not all that different from the last time. It’s thesame place. Some of the traps are the same. Some are different.” She winced.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œShe was running down a hallway trying to get away and fell through a trapdoor in the floor. When she landed in the basement, I think she broke her arm. She was in a lot of pain, but he was coming after her, so she had to pick herself up and keep going.”
    She related more details of the dream, wishing she could just wipe the whole thing out of her memory. But that was impossible—and the wrong thing to do. She had to make the man stop, and the only way to do that was to figure out who he was.
    â€œHe said he wanted revenge. For ruining his life,” she finished.
    â€œBut you don’t know what the woman did to him?”
    â€œNo. And neither did she. She kept asking what she’d done, and he said she knew. But she had no idea.”
    He nodded, then asked, “Do you know where to