Chapter VIII
Had it been an actual date, fan interruption aside, it would have been surprisingly nice.
Good food, good wine, good conversation, good company. Then there was that kiss that her thoughts kept drifting back to, no matter how often she pushed them aside.
Richard Castle continued to surprise her.
It was the kind of date that might have led to a second or third. Or to a hotel room like this.
Kate's eyes widened when she saw the massive king-sized bed, dwarfed by the equally massive suite in which it sat. "You're kidding, right?" She slipped out of her heels. "You got us a room with one bed? This is straight out of a bad rom com."
He was loosening his tie and then slid out of his jacket. "Don't you think getting a room with two double beds would spoil our ruse?"
She looked at him incredulously. The fatigue that she'd battled on the cab ride here was gone again. Earlier tonight she had changed in the hotel gym because the front desk agent told her they were sold out and their room hadn't been ready.
Beckett knew that getting one room was part of the plan, but she'd really hoped for a two-bedroom suite, or two double beds at the very least. A shared room was already too close for comfort.
"Who would know except for the reception staff?"
"You don't think they go on social media like everyone else?"
"They're sworn to discretion, aren't they?"
"It's not the CIA. People talk, It's human nature," he said it with a calm that she didn't feel at all. Did he really, truly think she was gonna share a bed with him? Was he that arrogant?
The fact that it had entered her mind during dessert was completely beside the point.
It was a moment of hormonal weakness because of the way he'd kissed her. And then when she'd taken a bite of their shared tiramisu, he'd said something that made her laugh so hard that it made him laugh too and they'd both erupted into an uncontrolled fit of laughter.
She couldn't even remember what he'd said that was so funny. What she remembered instead was the way the laughter had lit up his handsome face in the soft candlelight and that it had stirred something deep inside her.
Josh was the last person she'd been intimate with, and that was before she got shot. Now, the thought of letting anyone else see this strange, new, scarred body of hers still terrified her. She could barely muster the courage to really look at it herself.
So no, she had no intention of sleeping with him.
None.
Whatsoever.
Besides, she'd already done enough to damage her career this month. Sleeping with the man she was supposed to protect would be the final nail in the coffin. At this rate, she'd soon be sporting a Segway and a polyester security guard uniform at a strip mall.
"You're crazy if you…"
"Detective," he raised his hand in surrender. "Relax. It's a suite."
"A what?"
Castle pointed to the designer sofa in the living room area, a grin on that gorgeous face. "It means there's a pull-out couch. That's where I'll sleep."
She exhaled. Hating the sliver of disappointment that coursed through her veins.
Hating that of course he'd known this the moment they stepped into the room and of course he'd only wanted to see her reaction to the single bed.
"Fine."
Now if only the bedroom section of their suite had a door that closed. That would help shut down all the restless emotions running through her wired body. Especially that part of her that wanted him. That wanted the kind of exuberant release that comes with a night of good sex.
A few months ago, I almost died. And I still feel like I have a foot in the grave.
I want to shake it off and feel alive again.
But I don't know how.
He took off his jacket and stepped to the far end of the suite to make a call, and all she could see was the shadow of his silhouette.
Beckett was certain that he'd be good in bed. That it would be fun. Maybe a little wild too. Life affirming and playful.
She bit her lip, and then shuddered at the thought of his curious eyes seeing the tiny bullet scar between her breasts, and the larger, uglier, incision scar that ran along her upper ribs. The one that still pulled and throbbed on damp days.
Kate pressed her fingernails into the palm of her hand and fought back all the urges and desires that she wasn't ready to handle anyway.
Still. Her eyes gravitated towards him and she wondered who he was calling.
She heard him giggling on the other side of their massive suite and she recognized her reaction for what it was. Jealousy.
It made her want to roll her eyes at herself.
"'Night, Castle," she yelled across the suite, wishing once again for a door and a wall between them.
At least there was an en-suite bathroom next to the bed, in addition to the one at the entrance of the room, so they each had their own.
One night. She could duck under the massive duvet and suck up this awkward arrangement for one night.
''Night, Kate," he called back to her, stepping back into her line of view. "I'll be up for a while in case you can't sleep and want to join me for a movie."
"No, thanks."
"Okay. I won't take it personally." She could hear the amusement in his voice. "Sleep well."
She didn't.
Although she crawled under the covers and pretended to sleep, sleep didn't come. At first she could hear him pour something from the mini-bar and part of her desperately want to join him. If she had a drink or two maybe she wouldn't be this tense.
He didn't watch a movie as he said he would, but he did stay awake. Her hyper-awake body was aware of every movement coming from the other half of the suite. He was deliberately quiet, thinking she was asleep but she heard him opening his laptop. Typing. Setting down a glass on the coffee table next to the sofa.
And finally, an eternity later, she could hear, and see, him turn off the only light still on in the room. She heard him go to the bathroom and then come back out.
What she didn't hear was him opening the sofa bed. He was obviously going to sleep on it as it was. Maybe because he didn't want to make any noise for fear of waking her.
Or maybe because he was just too lazy to open it up.
She was awake until she finally heard his breath evening out, in a steady, sleeping rhythm. Thankfully he didn't snore.
Only then, did her own body finally relax and allow her to drift off too.
But it didn't last long.
Her restless mind went back to that hot afternoon. To burying her captain before nearly dying herself.
It was a memory, she thought, on the cusp of slumber, until Castle made an appearance in it. Until she realized the sniper wasn't aiming for her but for him.
"Castle!"
She ran to push him out of the line of fire. Faster than she'd ever run before. But she was too late.
She felt the impact on his body when the bullet hit. Felt him drop to the ground like a rock as he pulled her down too.
The blood began to pour out of his chest and she tried to staunch it in vain.
"Castle, hold on…hold on."
"What makes you think you can protect me?" he wanted to know, struggling to form the words with laboured breaths. "You can't even protect yourself. You're the worst cop I've ever seen. You can't even keep yourself alive. Can't even get through a night without getting drunk. I'm gonna die because you can't do this job."
"No! That is not true. And you're not gonna die!"
"Why would they put my life in your hands, Kate? Why?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry! They made a mistake but I won't let you die. I swear."
No, no, no.
"Kate."
No, no, no. Won't let you.
You have to live. You have a daughter. Have to. People need you.
"Kate!"
She felt something on her shoulder and it made her sit up with a gasp.
"What the…" Her heart was racing. A million beats a minute. It was thundering so hard that she was afraid it might burst out of her chest and explode.
"Hey," his face came into view more clearly. Worried blue eyes. Messy bed hair. A gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. You're okay."
She was breathing heavily and then understanding slowly dawning on her.
Another nightmare. Here of all places. With him to witness.
Fuck.
If only the ground could open up and swallow her whole.
"You were dreaming…I think."
"Yeah." She tried to take a deep breath. Willed for her heart to stop racing.
"Better?"
"Yeah."
"I'll get you some water."
She must not have sounded convincing. But him going to the bathroom to grab a glass for her gave her the chance to catch her breath.
"Here," he was back in a heartbeat with a tall glass of cold water, and she took it gratefully. The ice-cold liquid cooled her throat and it was exactly what she needed.
She drank more than half before handing it back to him. "Thanks."
"Can I get you something else?"
"No. I'm okay."
He'd turned on the bedside lamp. The light wasn't very bright but bright enough that she noticed the small Yankees logo on the sleeve of his t-shirt.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Tell him that she dreamed about his death? That she was unable to keep him safe? It was the absolute last thing she wanted to talk about. "No."
"Okay,"
"I get nightmares sometimes," she admitted, now that her heart was no longer pounding. Because surely this kind of scene demanded some sort of explanation. "Since my shooting. But they're not that frequent anymore, and I'm okay, really." She almost managed a smile. "I'm sorry if I scared you."
He shook his head. "No. Don't apologize. If that had happened to me, I'd probably still be peeing my pants every night."
An involuntary smile cracked her lips. She had no idea how he did that. Make her smile in moments where she didn't think it was possible. It reminded her of something her father had said not long after her mother's funeral.
"Thanks for that visual."
"It's true."
He sat on the rim of her bed and when she looked past him, into the suite, she noticed that he had indeed been sleeping on the couch. Hadn't bothered to open the sofa bed.
"Can you go back to sleep?"
What she really wanted was to go for a run. To get rid of all the awful, restless energy that her body tingled with. "I'll try."
"Or…" He shot a glance across to his laptop. "We could watch a movie."
"A movie?"
"I have all sorts of streaming services on my lap top."
She could use something to take her mind off the nightmare. Something that stopped her from going to the mini-bar. "Of course you do."
"Or we can break the law and download something illegally."
"You just want me to use my cuffs on you."
He laughed. "You saw right through me." Mostly he was pleased that she hadn't turned him down. "I'll grab it."
When he came back he sat on her bed, on top of the comforter, leaning against the backboard.
"Here. In my bed?"
"I'm here to watch a movie with you, Detective. That's all. No funny business. Unless you're saying you can't keep your hands off me."
"I think I'll manage."
His long muscular legs were stretched out on the bed, and she tore her gaze away from his calves, wondering what it would feel like if they were…
"Pick something you've seen before. Something funny," he suggested. "I want to get to know your cinematic tastes."
She scrolled through the comedy section, happy to see one of her favourites. She plumped up her pillows to sit up and move closer to him before she clicked on it.
"Ratatouille? Really?"
"It's brilliant. I love that crazy rat. He dreams big and never gives up."
"Ratatouille it is."
They were barely halfway through when she started to drift off. It occurred to her then why he'd make her pick something she'd already seen. Because it was easier to doze off when you didn't try and stay awake to see what happens next.
You're so smart, Castle.
She was completely unaware that her head had lolled towards him and that she was using his arm as her pillow now, cheeks pressed firmly into the Yankees logo on his sleeve.
He waited a long time before moving.
Until his arm was as fast asleep as she was.
Only then did he slowly extricate himself from her. Inch by meticulous inch, he replaced himself with two fluffed hotel pillows and slowly set her down on them.
He must have done a decent job, because she'd barely stirred.
The sting of a thousand pins ran along his arm as it slowly came back to life and he gingerly moved it back and forth.
It was worth it, he decided, making a fist with his fingers and then releasing it. Allowing the blood to circulate through his veins again.
The nightmare had rattled him as much as her. Made him want to hold on to her and not let go.
How could she stand it? Living with the knowledge that the guy who'd put a bullet in her heart was still out there? Just waiting for the right moment to finish the job.
How could she could go on with her daily life, put one step in front of the other every single day, while that was hanging over her head? He was certain that he wouldn't be able to do it. He would have holed himself up inside a panic room, or fled to a remote Philippine island with a new identity.
You're extraordinary.
If he had to sit through a movie about a rat wanting to become a chef in order to help her fall back asleep, he figured that was the least he could do.
"And coffee," he mumbled with a yawn. When she woke up, he'd bring her one in bed from that fancy espresso machine that was nestled in the wall unit.
Castle checked the time on his Swiss watch. 5:53am. He could head back to the sofa and try and sleep for another hour.
Or he could take a shower, make a coffee for himself, and watch the sunrise while writing. He let his gaze linger on his sleeping bodyguard. Her pretty face pressed into a pillow, half covered with strands of hair, while one long, gorgeous leg peeked out from under the comforter.
It filled him with an unexpected pang of melancholy. Knowing that this might never happen again. He might never see her like this again.
It bothered him a little, how much he wanted it to happen again. Not the nightmare, but the intimacy of having her fall asleep next to him.
Maybe they could protect each other somehow and...
Jesus…what is wrong with you? He ran a hand through his tousled hair. You're an assignment to her. Nothing more.
Shower.
He definitely needed a shower.
And then he'd write.
Because when she was near him, he couldn't seem to stop.
I was so angry when I saw the photo that I punched the wall. Repeatedly.
There's a dent there now and my knuckles are raw and bruised. One of them is bleeding a little. But I don't care about that.
I'm used to beatings.
I keep staring at the photo. Not the one of that bitch, Becca, and him. But the one she posted further down in the thread, of all three of them. Rick, and the bitch and the other bitch. The one I saw in the Hamptons.
Becca thinks she's banned me from her stupid site, as if blocking an ISP number will keep me from seeing it. Or joining it. She's so simple and stupid. Like most of them.
But I don't give a damn about her either. She's a nobody and I only use her site to get any info I want. Not much had been happening on her site until she posted those photos at 12:14am last night. By some fluke she ran into Rick at dinner. Or so she says. She probably followed him from his hotel.
Bitch says I'm a stalker when she's no better.
But Becca's a nobody.
It's the other woman who's making me furious. She's weaseled her way into his bed already. I figured as much when I saw them sitting outside together the other night, I was hoping I was wrong, but I rarely am. She's just another money-sucking leech, like all his women.
He deserves so much better. He's a good man, who deserves someone who loves him. Someone better than just another whore who's gonna use him.
I know he's only fucking her to get Sherine out of his system. But if he keeps doing this, they'll end up poisoning him.
I have to stop it.
I'm literally shaking because of the urgency of it all. I need to do it soon. I can't let him keep doing this to himself.
I took a big risk with Sherine. Now I might have to take another one.
But I have to do it for him.
I refresh the page. There's a new comment.
-Isn't that the NYPD cop who got shot? At that Captain's funeral? If not, she sure looks a lot like her. Detective Bennett or something like that. I'm going to look her up.
Cop who got shot? What the hell are they talking about?