Nicolas pressed his lips to her temple. “You’re closing in on him, Dahlia. I hope he feels your breath on the back of his neck.”
She turned into his arms almost blindly, instinctively. She wanted to be held and comforted. At that moment she didn’t care how much she was relying on him. She was just grateful she had him.
Nicolas simply held her, rocking her gently back and forth. He knew she was hurting. She’d lost everything and this one, elusive man had everything to do with it. Nicolas just needed the name. Needed it confirmed. Then he would go hunting.
“You can’t, you know,” she said softly.
“Can’t what?” His fingers tangled in her hair, rubbed the silky strands to relieve his spurt of anger, of suppressed rage that someone would so carefully destroy Dahlia’s life.
“I know what you’re thinking. You become very calm, very centered, and your energy level drops more than ever. I’ve figured it out. Your anger is ice cold, not fiery hot, and you contain it. You let it build and you use it when you work. This man isn’t your target. He isn’t your job.”
He bent down to brush the top of her head with a kiss. “I’m going to be there tonight, Dahlia. I’m not letting you go to the Lombard building alone. You won’t see us, or hear us, but if you get in trouble, we’ll be there to pull you out.”
She pulled away from him, her expression stubborn. “I didn’t go with you on your job. It will only break my concentration knowing you’re there.”
“You can be angry with me over this,” he said, “and I’ll understand, but it won’t change my mind. I’m being honest with you. It’s impossible for me to do anything else.”
“So what does that mean? Every time I go out on a job, you’re going to be following me because you think I’m not capable of handling it?”
“No, because I’m not capable of handling it. There’s a difference. Can you live with that? With me being who I am?” He caught her arm when she turned away from him. “I’m asking you to understand what I’m really like. I have my own drawbacks, Dahlia. I’m going to be damned difficult to live with sometimes.”
Her eyes widened in shock. In terror. “I didn’t ever agree to live with you.”
“No,” he admitted, “but you’re going to agree.”
“You’re so arrogant, Nicolas. Sometimes it sets my teeth on edge.”
He tried not to smile. “I know it does.” At least she didn’t say she wouldn’t agree to living with him, so maybe when he mentioned marriage, she wouldn’t just faint on him. Or put on her running shoes.
She tossed the pictures on the bed and rummaged through her clothes to find something to wear. Lily had been thoughtful enough to replace everything on the list Nicolas had given her for Dahlia, including her work clothes and tools. Because it was Lily she sent along as many other items she could get quickly and thought would be useful. Dahlia was pleased with the assortment and the tightly woven clothes with a myriad of zippered compartments to store necessary items and keep her hands free.
She slicked her hair back and braided it a second time as tightly as possible. As she slipped her hands into the thin gloves she glanced at Nicolas. “Well? If you’re coming, you’d better get ready.”
“We’ve been ready. Our gear is already in the cars. Do you want a radio?”
She shook her head. “Too distracting. I have to rely on myself, Nicolas. I can’t change how I do things at this late date. When I go in, I have to believe in myself, not think if something happens you can rescue me. I don’t need rescuing. If I’m in trouble, I’ll get myself out.” She pinned him with her black gaze. “Is that understood?”
“Perfectly clear.” He caught up her equipment bag and carried it out of the room.
Dahlia started after him and then went back to look at the photographs scattered across the bed. She picked up one and stared down at it, at the man who had orchestrated the murder of her family. It took a few moments before she realized the temperature in the room was climbing fast and her fingers were burning black holes in the evidence she would need to show the director. She tossed the picture away from her, but sat down on the bed to look at the others. Nearly all of them were taken in the French Quarter in New Orleans. Why did Louise have the pictures?