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silver lying in the pouring rain in front of her lab.
Chapter 12
Laura! Laura! It might not be safe!
But she was out of the car and running through the heavy rain before he could stop
her. Vince followed, cursing under his breath as the cold downpour immediately
soaked him to the skin.
She was kneeling in front of the sliding metal door to her lab, cradling what
looked like a pile of junk in her arms. The interior of the lab was dark and
seemingly empty but he was taking no chances.
Stay here and I'll check out the inside, he yelled over the rain, drawing his gun
and edging around the metal door. Laura didn't even look up at him, all her
attention was consumed by the broken object on the ground.
Vince shook his head and entered the lab with caution, leading with his gun. A
quick perimeter check revealed that the lab was unoccupied but someone had
definitely been there. All of the delicate equipment that had been humming quietly
in the background on his first trip to the lab was quiet now, smashed beyond
repair. Loose papers and data strips littered the tables and floor and several of the
lab stools had been overturned. It was obvious the place had been thoroughly
searched and then completely trashed.
He hated to let her see the mess that someone had made of her work. It was so
senseless, so brutal.
They really did a thorough job, didn't they?
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Her voice behind him startled him. Hey, I told you to wait outside until I gave the
all clear. But the sight of her when he turned drained away all his anger.
She stood shivering in the doorway to the lab, thick blond hair plastered to her
skull in long, dripping tendrils. Her arms were wrapped around herself
protectively and the big, changeable eyes were dull with grief.
Laura? He re-holstered his gun and took a step towards her but she moved away.
They killed Artie. But still ... I don't think I'll be able to repair him. She looked
up at Vince and he realized that the moisture on her pale cheeks wasn't just rain
water.
Laura, baby, I'm so sorry. He watched her helplessly, aching to close the
distance between them and hold her but he knew she wouldn't allow it.
It's just.... She rubbed angrily at the tears with one hand, the other arm still
wrapped tightly around her waist. I guess whoever did my home and my car did
it, I should've thought they might. What's the point in such senseless destruction,
Vince? I don't understand. What were they looking for? She bowed her head,
shivering in her wet clothes, shoulders shaking.
Vince couldn't help himself anymore, he went to her. Laura, please.... He
reached for her and his hand landed on the bare skin of her wrist. She flinched
away.
Please don't ... I appreciate it Vince, that you want to help me, but I can't stand the touching. And please
don't feel frustrated--that only makes it worse.
I'm sorry. He stood back from her, arms crossed on his chest, feeling foolish.
She didn't want his help, didn't need his comfort.
Laura looked up at him with dark, wet eyes. You must think I spend half my life
having emotional breakdowns, huh?
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No. You went through some serious shit these last coupla days. This, he
gestured curtly to the ruined lab. Would make anybody upset.
I actually hate to cry, you know? I think I've cried more in the past twenty-four
hours than I have since my divorce came through. And the worst thing is.... She
trailed off, looking at him sidelong. Her changeable eyes were the color of the sea
during a storm.
What's the worst thing? he asked gently, daring to take a step towards her. She
stood huddled in a miserable package just inside the doorway to the dark, ruined
lab.
The worst thing is I can feel you wanting to comfort me, wanting to hold me ...
And I want that comfort--want it so badly, Vince. But I just can't stand the contact.
It's my damn disability, I can't get around it.
What if I didn't touch your skin? He ducked his head to look directly into her
eyes. With any other woman he would have tilted her chin up but this was the best
he could do without touching.
Laura looked at him, wet, shivering, and obviously in need of comfort but still
uncertain.
C'mon. Vince held out his arms and with a little moan of pure sorrow, she came
to him. It's okay, baby. It's all right, he whispered.
He held her carefully at first, feeling her hot face pressed against his chest through
the damp black t-shirt he wore. Her wet blond hair was ticklish where it trailed
over his forearms and she felt soft and yielding in his arms as she leaned weakly
against him, trembling all over, and let the tears come down.
She smelled like rain and wet hair and damp skin and under all that a rich,
feminine musk that must be her natural scent. Vince breathed it in.
It had been a while since he'd held a woman in his arms. There hadn't been
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