by Dana Nussio
His tight jaw reflecting his strain, Jamie plucked the packet off the nightstand. Then he sat back on his feet and made quick work of covering himself and protecting them both.
Sarah held her breath as he settled over her once more.
“Uh, Sarah... I know you said it earlier, but I need you to say it again.” He cleared her throat. “I mean...before.”
She squinted at him, but then realization dawned. This was Jamie. He would want to be certain she’d given consent. She wouldn’t want him any other way.
“Yes, please.” She’d intended it to sound funny, but her words came out more like a plea, which was closer to the truth, anyway.
Though his face reflected his strain, Jamie brought them together slowly, and with a gentleness that nearly took her breath away. And when they began moving together, he made good on that attempt, breathing her in with each of her exhalations and connecting with her in every way humanly possible.
The moment couldn’t have been more perfect. It was as if every point in her life—even the darkness she’d fumbled through in a desperate search for light—had led her to this moment. To this man. These touches. These sighs.
Then, as the waves of her need crested and rolled, Jamie tumbled closely after her and their worlds settled again in a froth of contentment, Sarah realized that she’d been wrong. Something could be more perfect. And she knew without a doubt that after being loved by Jamie Donovan, she would never be the same.
* * *
“Whore!”
Michael pounded his fists on the steering wheel, then jerked his head to see if anyone had been close enough to the car to hear. But the street looked deserted, another suburb with two-income homeowners, who worked day and night so that they could sleep in those bedrooms and park their cars in those garages. People like those whose kids had once been some of his best customers.
He rubbed his hand, which hurt like a mother, and breathed in and out several times, searching for a calm that refused to come. He’d gotten lucky this time. He couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself. Not now. Not when he was this close to getting everything he’d worked for, planned for...and getting Maria back.
“Oh. Right. Sarah Cline.”
But what was he supposed to do? His wife, whatever she called herself now, was in that house, spreading wide for some asshole. He’d seen her right there in the window, smashing faces with the dude, as if she didn’t give a damn who saw them together.
And now she’d been out of sight for two hours, giving him plenty of time to imagine the worst and plan ways he would make her pay for it later.
How dare she go screwing around! He didn’t care if she had some piece of paper from the judge. She was his! She’d promised ‘til death do us part, and she’d sullied that commitment.
“You don’t deserve to—”
No. He couldn’t think about that now. It didn’t matter that he should rip off both their heads. Even if he’d proved that he could do it. He closed his eyes and laced his hands around an imaginary neck, the strain and the fading pulse still feeling so real beneath his fingertips.
A secret smile played on his lips, and the heaviness in his lap that he’d come to expect whenever he recalled that day forced him to adjust again. And to think that he’d tossed his cookies when it had first happened. He patted the address book that rode shotgun in the car. If Tonya were alive, he would thank her again for making it so easy to find Maria.
But he needed to focus. He’d made mistakes that other day, when he’d lost his temper. He couldn’t afford to do that again. No matter what Maria had done. No matter what she was currently doing while his son was at school. What kind of mother whored around like that?
Then he answered his own question. One who worked as some crappy diner. One lived in an apartment barely better than the dump he was forced to live in. And one who wasn’t even doing well enough to have a junker like the one he was driving.
He still couldn’t get over how she’d pranced across town without even checking her surroundings to make sure that no one followed her. Good thing she hadn’t, since someone had been following. Well, she had looked back once, almost straight at him, but he’d been careful not to make eye contact. She also must have had her mind on other things. Like the loser in the window.
He would have to address her lack of attention to detail once they were together again, just like he had since their wedding day. But it probably wouldn’t take her long to remember that dinner belonged on the table at five sharp and that she should take pride in ensuring that hand towels were straight.
They would have to work on other things, as well. Like her infidelity. But didn’t all marriages have their bumps in the road? His hands gripped the steering wheel again as he stared at the window through which she’d been parading her sin, but he forced his fingers to relax.
He needed to be patient, and he’d mastered patience in prison. This wasn’t the time to approach her, anyway. No need to have her boyfriend in there try to play the hero and get in the way. Besides, she didn’t appear to have the book with her.
No, she had to be alone when he approached her. Back at her apartment, as long as that old woman wasn’t around. The one who’d walked his son to school this morning. Instead of her. Little Andy. The same blond boy from the photo on Tonya’s piano.
He couldn’t wait too long. His asinine boss and his parole officer might not take too kindly to him skipping town, and then the Keystone Cops would be looking for him, as well, still believing that they would get their share of the money.
No, tonight would have to be soon enough, though he wasn’t certain he could wait that long. That is, unless Maria deserted his son to go play house with Romeo again.
At the sound of an approaching siren, Michael jerked, whacking his head against the driver’s side window. How had they found him? What detail had he overlooked? But a quick peek in the rearview mirror showed an ambulance barreling toward him. He sank down in the seat, anyway. No need to have Maria see him sitting outside if she came up for air long enough to look out the window.
The emergency vehicle drew so close that the sound was piercing, and then the warbling faded away.
But for several seconds longer, Michael stayed low in the seat, staring up at the car’s stained roof interior. His visit tonight would still be a surprise. He could almost picture her startled face when she opened the door. Things were coming together now. Just the way he’d planned.
Chapter 19
For the second time that day, Jamie awoke with a start, as a sound from outside dragged him, kicking and scratching, out of a most perfect dream. But as the blaring sound transformed into a high-pitched, pulsing siren and his hand became ensnarled in a tangle of silk on the next pillow, he came fully awake and sat up in bed.
This was not a dream, and it was far from perfect.
“Are the police right outside?”
Sarah sat straight up, as well, the sheet clasped to her chest, as if Jamie hadn’t already seen and sampled all the secrets masked behind that scrap of striped cotton. He hated that he’d noticed first the riotous mass of her hair, when he should have been paying closer attention to the panic in her eyes.
He resented his body’s automatic response to that first image even more. Why did her lips have to look so swollen and well kissed? Why did that jagged scar on her upper arm seem to call out for his tender ministrations, when he already knew it felt puffy and delicate beneath his lips? Why did he have to crave so desperately someone he shouldn’t have had once, let alone again?
That siren was like a megaphone announcing that he’d just made a huge mistake, and all he could think about was pulling those sheets over them and doing it all over again.
“Probably an ambulance,” he said. This time, anyway.
But because it was difficult to differentiate among siren pitches when so many agencies and contract
ed services responded to calls in Livingston County, Jamie had to know for sure. Anyway, Sarah was right; the racket sounded like it was coming from the front yard. He threw back the covers, pulled on his pants and T-shirt and rushed to the living room.
He couldn’t see anything through the front window, so he stepped out on the porch barefoot, catching sight of the fire and rescue vehicle before it disappeared around the corner. Crossing his arms against the chill, he started to turn back to the door, but a rusty white sedan, parked just up the street, caught his attention.
Jamie shook his head as he continued through the open door. Another one of the teens in the sub had probably turned sixteen and had received that rust bucket as a gift. He needed to remember that when he drove through the neighborhood.
“Is everything okay?” Sarah asked as he padded back into the bedroom.
She stood next to the bedside table wearing her jeans and bra and was pulling her T-shirt back over her head.
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
This time. The words repeated in his thoughts, his chest tightening. Next time, she might not be so lucky. She was a fugitive, after all. A fugitive he’d just taken to bed.
Sarah shot a look toward the front of the house, though walls separated her from seeing outside. “I thought for a minute that you, uh...”
“Turned you in?”
She shrugged, her shoulders curving forward.
“No, I didn’t. Don’t you think that all of this—” he gestured to the unmade bed “—would be tough for me to explain?”
“You’re probably right.”
He couldn’t watch her as she finger-combed her hair and wrangled it back into a ponytail without being tempted to pull out the band and free it all again, so he turned toward the wall. But that only put the bed squarely in front of him, a piece of furniture he would never be able to look at again without picturing so many tender memories with her. As he shifted to escape that sight, as well, he found her watching him.
She gestured toward the digital clock, where “12:15” was flashing on the screen. “It’s late. I can’t believe I slept so long.”
He didn’t miss that she’d spoken only of herself, when there’d been two of them in that bed. “You were probably exhausted. I mean, after everything last night,” he was quick to add. “You said you didn’t get any sleep.”
Their gazes connected, and then they both looked away. Morning-after moments were awkward enough without awakening to sirens and fears of arrest.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” she said with a smile. “I have a shift at three, but if you have time, we could get lunch somewhere.”
“Sorry. My shift starts at two.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He hated the disappointment in her voice, but what could he do? He’d worried so much that she would be sorry after they’d slept together that he’d never considered he might be the one with regrets. Even knowing what he knew about her, he’d believed he could still make love with her and live with himself. He’d been wrong.
He couldn’t stay in that bedroom any longer. He grabbed their shoes and socks, handed Sarah hers and started into the hall.
“Thanks,” she said from behind him, her voice rising and making her response sound more like a question.
In the living room, he sat on the couch where they’d cradled Aiden between them only hours before. It felt like a lifetime. Instead of sitting next to him, Sarah lowered into the side chair and put on her shoes, as he was doing.
“Will you tell me what’s going on?” she asked.
“What are you talking about?” He didn’t look up from tying his shoelaces.
“What has changed from two hours ago? Or did it mean...nothing...to you?”
The pain in her voice created a physical ache in his chest. No matter what he felt, how could he hurt her? How could he allow her to believe that it was only a hookup rather than the single most significant physical experience of his life? Even if it never should have happened.
“I’m sorry.” He stood and crossed to the window. “It was a mistake, but it wasn’t you. It was my mistake. This can’t happen...again. At least not right now.”
“Sorry, buddy,” she said, suddenly behind him. “You don’t get to take full responsibility like some modern-day knight in shining armor. There were two of us in that bed. And I’m a full-grown woman. I walked all the way here on my own.”
“But you’re not a cop. I am.”
“I know you’re a cop. And I’m here, anyway. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Since answering that might incriminate him, he only paced to other side of the room.
“You’d already told me everything. The identity theft. The violation of the court order. You’re a fugitive. I didn’t even think about that before I willingly jumped into bed with you.”
“Well, willingly is a stretch. You had to be convinced.”
He frowned at her attempt to make a joke. “Oh, I was willing, all right. Believe it or not, it’s frowned upon for law-enforcement officers to sleep with suspects.”
“You think of me as a suspect?”
“I should have.”
She watched him for so long that he couldn’t help squirming.
“Would you rather I hadn’t told you?”
“No. I’m glad you told me.” The answer to that one was clear, even when the rest of the truth had settled in murky water. “But the siren reminded me that although no one was coming for you today, the next time they could be. And I didn’t do my job after coming into contact with a fugitive, so I’m involved.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I never asked you to get involved. But no matter how hard I tried to dodge your questions, you kept asking. It was as if every answer made you hunger for more.”
He’d felt the same way every time he’d kissed her, but now wasn’t the time to tell her that.
“Either way, here we are,” he said instead. “And all I’m saying is that you were worried about your ex coming after you, when he couldn’t reach you from behind bars, but maybe you should have been equally worried that the police would show up one day at your door.”
“Child-custody cases probably aren’t top priority.”
He shrugged. “Even so, you made me suspicious. There were just too many things that didn’t add up about you. What if I’m not the only one asking questions about you?”
“You were just trying to get in my pants.”
It was a shot, taken out of pain, and he deserved it, so he quietly absorbed the sting. Maybe on some subconscious level, that was what he’d been doing. So how was he supposed to make it right now, when he’d had her, and it had only made him crave her more? When she deserved a much better friend than he’d been to her?
“So, what happens now that you’ve received your wake-up siren?” she asked. “I said I wondered if you’d I turned me in. Is that what you’re going to do now?”
“No.” He shook his head to emphasize his point. “As I said, my involvement in this situation is...complicated. But you should turn yourself in.”
“Turn myself in? After all I’ve done to make sure he can’t find Aiden and me? Not a chance. I told you before, I’ll never let him get to my son.”
“But I can help you.” Jamie held his hands wide. “We can figure this out together. I’ll make sure that you and Aiden are safe.”
“You can’t.” She spat the words. “Don’t you get that? No one can.”
That was the worst part. She was right. It didn’t do either of them any good for him to make promises he couldn’t keep.
“Can you at least let me try? I’ll do some research. We’ll talk to an attorney. Maybe we can mitigate your legal situation.”
But she was shaking her head, closing the door of possibility that he was still straining to hold open. �
��You promise you won’t report me?”
He closed his eyes, his black-and-white world tarring and whitewashing at the same time, until he could see nothing but an unwelcome gray in front of him. But he could do nothing about the color. Sarah needed him, whether she realized it or not. He hadn’t been there for Mark, when his brother had needed him most, and there was no way he would fail the woman he loved. No matter what it cost him.
Opening his eyes again, he nodded. “And if you need my help, just ask. I’ll do whatever I can.”
A flash of vulnerability appeared in her eyes, but then she blinked it away.
“You already did the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. You brought my son back to me last night. I’ll never forget that.”
Jamie’s throat constricted over words that sounded suspiciously like a goodbye. What had he expected? That she would stick around after he’d pried all her secrets from her? Why hadn’t he realized that those revelations would make it impossible for her to stay?
“I just need you to keep quiet for a few days, until I figure out my next step,” she continued. “Aiden and I will have to keep moving to stay ahead of suspicions. We’ve started over before. We can do it again.”
When he couldn’t hold back any longer, Jamie crossed to her and took her by the upper arms, forcing his touch to be gentle when he longed to cling.
“It doesn’t have to be this way.” Stay. Please. He wanted to say those things so badly that he was surprised he was able to hold it in. But how could he beg her to stay when he could offer her nothing right now? Not even a way out of the mess she was in. “We can figure something out.”
“We can do nothing. And I have to fight for my son. Alone.”
Jamie flinched, the word striking him faster than a sneak attack from his six. He’d told her she didn’t have to be alone. When he’d still hadn’t known everything. When he’d still believed he could help repair what was broken inside her. That was before the truth and consequences got in the way.