Secret Love

by Tabatha Drake

  “No, thanks,” I answer.

  Dani shakes her head with a kind smile.

  “Enjoy,” the waitress says as she wanders off again.

  We both take advantage of the distraction and focus on our plates instead of the heavy conversation she nearly started. Dani grabs the syrup bottle and pours a healthy amount over the small stack of carbohydrate heaven. I lay the included lettuce and tomatoes and pickles on my burger and slap the bun on top.

  “I refuse to not enjoy this,” she mutters, squeezing even more from the bottle. It seeps to the edges of the plate before she finally stops and readies her fork.

  I smile. It can’t be helped.

  “Hey…”

  She looks up at me as I slide the edge of my plate toward hers. I nudge it a bit closer until she snags a fry and crushes it between her teeth.

  “Oh, my god…” Her eyelids flutter closed. “I miss fries.”

  I chuckle and pull my plate back.

  I decide to get some rest and continue to Denver in the morning.

  I can easily manage the rest of the trip tonight but there’s something about extending it that feels so damn tempting. It’s dangerous as hell. Getting this file decrypted is priority number one. Taking Mercer’s focus off Dani is everything. And yet…

  I don’t know. Maybe this is a little fun.

  Dani lies on the second bed with the television remote in one hand, surfing away at the limited channels available. She’s on her elbow with her head propped up. Her feet dangle off the side, connected to perfect, smooth legs. She slipped out of her jeans and into my big shirt again the second we arrived and it’s taking everything in me not to gawk at her.

  “Uh-oh…” Dani points at the television.

  A national news channel flashes a photo of her, a stunning portrait of her on the red carpet.

  ROXIE ROBERTS ABDUCTED.

  I exhale. “Looks like Bennett is going all out with this.”

  “He really hates you,” she says.

  “Always has.”

  She clicks away from the channel. I stand up from my own bed and walk to the window for a distraction, but there’s not much to see out here. It’s the most secluded, rundown motel I saw miles off the road. I guess it’s all my fault that there’s nothing else to look at other than Dani and her perky…

  I bite down hard.

  Dani lets out an exasperated moan and my ears twitch. “You’d figure there’d be something decent on. What else do people have to do around here?”

  I glance at her as she rolls onto her back. Her chest rises and falls. My blood pounds in my ears.

  Keep it together, Fitzpatrick.

  “A-ha!”

  I jolt. “What?”

  “Finally, some quality programming.”

  Roxie Roberts looks back at me from the dusty, old television screen. Her blonde hair tumbles in the wind as waves crash below her feet, submerging her up to her knees. It’s the ending of the first Night Trials movie. Tears roll down her dirt-covered cheeks and she waves her arms up and down. The rescue boat sits on the horizon. Music swells. She’s finally escaped… until Part 2, of course.

  I cross my arms and lean against the wall. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me.” She laughs. “How have you never seen this before?!”

  I shrug.

  “You’re pretty boring for a dead guy,” she says. “Hey! They’re showing it again. Sit down. The beginning is the best part.”

  I stay on the wall. “I thought actors hated watching themselves on screen.”

  “Only when I’m crying,” she says. “Or laughing. Or kissing somebody. I usually turn away then.”

  “Why?”

  She drops the remote by her side. “No one likes looking into the mirror when they’re actually feeling something.”

  “But it’s not real.”

  “It’s my job to make it look real, so it feels real.”

  There she is. Little Roxie Roberts in the role that catapulted her to international stardom. I’ve seen this so many times, I could say the lines out loud. I’ve cried with her and laughed with her, but it wasn’t real. Not like now. Now, she’s real.

  She speaks and her voice vibrates my ears without passing through a set of speakers first. She’s so close, I could reach out and touch her warm, apple-scented skin. My fingers tremble. My face explodes with heat. My cock twitches in my slacks.

  “Fox?”

  I flinch. “What?”

  Dani sits up and plants her feet on the floor. “About that night…”

  That night?

  That night I’ve had repeating in my head since the moment she laid down?

  I shift on my toes. “Dani, maybe we shouldn’t talk about that.”

  She stands up off the bed. “I want to,” she says, her bare toes sinking into the carpet. “I’ve been thinking about it…” She lets out an awkward chuckle. “I think about it a lot, actually, but…”

  “Dani.”

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  I pause. “For what?”

  “Because it’s my fault,” she says, taking a few steps closer. “If I hadn’t… gone to your room that night then my father wouldn’t have kicked you out.” She looks down, her little eyes trailing where my tattoo lies beneath my shirt. “None of this would have happened to you if I had just… gone to bed alone that night.”

  I shake my head. “None of this is your fault, Dani.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No, it—”

  Dani kisses me. Her warm lips cradle my own, guiding them to blend just like I taught her how. All those times we snuck off together as teenagers after that damn day at the pier are nothing compared to the rush pulsing through me now. It’s a quick kiss, barely even a few seconds long, but it feels like a sublime hour of bliss.

  She pulls an inch away and stares up at me with wide-open, doe-like eyes. Her chest rises and falls against mine, the feel of it sparking fire through my gut.

  Fuck it.

  I kiss her. I fucking kiss her.

  And the entire world turns black.

  I cup her face as her hands come to rest on my sides. Heat radiates off her skin. I slide my thumb along her bottom lip. It feels so soft and smooth against my fingers, just like it did five years ago. I think to stop this but the temptation of her takes over.

  I can’t make myself stop tasting her. Our lips purse and press, twitch and quiver. Her body turns to jelly in my arms. She touches my back and it’s like fireworks shooting up my spine.

  “Come to bed with me, Fox,” Dani whispers. “Please.”

  Fuck. This is really happening again.

  I’ve pictured this moment a thousand times before. Every night for years, I’ve lied in bed and thought about what I’d do if I ever had her alone again. I’d kiss every inch of her alabaster skin. I’d taste her long enough to quench my thirst for her. I’d fuck her until we both turned numb.

  Dani entwines our fingers, gently guiding me toward the bed with her. I follow with heavy feet, feeling all my blood rush south. She sits down on the edge of the bed and releases my hands. With her eyes on mine, she flicks the buttons on her shirt, slowly revealing the small crevice between her breasts all the way down to her panties. Passion radiates down my spine, fueling the urge in my groin. It rages for her, begs for me to take her.

  Dani leans back, shirt open and body exposed, and waits.

  I lick my lips, but something in me holds back. The fantasy of a million men lies before me, wanting me to touch her, to fuck her, to have my way with her, but all I can think about is how wrong it is.

  If she knew what tomorrow will bring, she wouldn’t want this tonight.

  If I had known how much loving her would hurt, I never would have touched her in the first place.

  I can’t put us through that again.

  I won’t.

  Chapter 20

  Dani

  I sit still, gently trembling on the edge of the bed. Fox stands above
me and stares with the same dangerous lust I always saw in him. His eyes draw a line down my body. His hands roll into tight fists. His jaw flexes.

  But he doesn’t touch me.

  “Fox?” I ask.

  Fox takes a step back, his eyes locking on the floor instead. “No,” he says.

  “No?”

  He walks away from the bed and turns around to face the window instead. “You should get some rest,” he says. “Long day tomorrow.”

  I hold my shirt closed. “What?”

  He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t even say anything. He just stares out that damn window.

  “Fox, what’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then…” I stand up, still pinching my shirt. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Stop saying that and talk to me.”

  He exhales. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Dani. I just don’t…”

  My gut churns with rejection. “You don’t want me?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.

  “You won’t. I trust you.”

  He looks at me. Barely. “I don’t mean that way.”

  “Then, what way?”

  “Dani—” He pauses with his jaw wired tight. “It’s just not right. Okay?”

  Every bit of lingering desire melts off my body, instantly replaced with seething annoyance. “It’s not right?” I say. “Being a member of a secret murder club is totally okay but fucking me is out of the question?”

  He hangs his head. “That’s not—”

  “What changed?” I ask. “What changed between then and now?”

  “Everything.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I turn away from him, quickly closing my buttons as I search for more clothes to throw on.

  “It’s true,” Fox says from his window.

  “You said I’ve always been Dani to you, that you don’t see me the way they do, but — surprise, surprise — yes, you do.”

  “I meant every word I said about that, but if I…” he pauses, losing a bit of the calm in his voice. “This is about more than just you and me. I can’t let myself get too…”

  “Too what?” I ask, annoyed.

  “Attached, again,” he says, finding the word. “If I get close to you, I’ll get distracted, and then something could happen to you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if it did.”

  I gesture at the bandage on my cheek. “Yeah, because staying away from me has worked out just fine so far, right? I was perfectly safe without you around, right?”

  “Dani, you and me… it’s a mistake. Always was.”

  I give up my search for clothes and turn to face him again. “A mistake?” I repeat. “You and me?”

  “Yes,” he says.

  My throat tightens. “Is that why you abandoned me?”

  He blinks. “I didn’t abandon you.”

  “I called you… a hundred times,” I say, my voice breaking. “I texted you even more. I sent emails. Not one reply. We spent one night together, and I never saw you again.”

  My lip trembles and Fox looks up, finally showing a little pain in his eyes.

  “Bennett said—”

  “I don’t care what my dad said! You should have stayed. You should have fought for us. For me!”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  I walk forward and I don’t stop until I’m right in front of him. “Do you have any idea what that does to a girl? Was I not worth a goodbye?”

  “Dani, I’m sorry—”

  “It was easier to break a girl’s heart than it was to answer a fucking email?!” I lose control and shove him, but his back is already to the wall. “I needed you, Fox! You left me and I had nothing!”

  I push him again, but he quickly grabs my wrists and pulls me against him.

  “I left you and you have everything now,” he says. “Can’t you see that? You’re Roxie fucking Roberts, Dani. Every move you make is on display. You’re nitpicked and judged for everything you do. That includes this. This is bad for you. I am bad for you. I don’t belong in your world. I never have. That’s why I left.”

  Tears spill down my cheeks. “Then, why the hell did you come back?”

  “Because I’d rather live in a world with you in it than suffer the alternative.”

  He releases my wrists and walks around me, putting several purposeful feet of distance between us.

  “Do you have any idea how lonely it is to be Roxie fucking Roberts?” I ask, bile rising in my throat. “I’m surrounded by people all the time, but they aren’t looking at me. They’re looking at my dress or my hair or my damn waistline. They don’t care about who I am or what I think. No one ever has… except for you. Or so I thought.”

  He closes his eyes. “Dani—”

  “If we’re going to start talking about suffering alternatives… then, I think that maybe you should have stayed dead.” He opens his eyes again, showing an even harder sadness. “You should have let me die. At least then I would have felt that instead of this.”

  “You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “What difference does it make? It’s not like I’m irreplaceable. In a few years, there will be some other girl, one who’s younger and prettier for everyone to nitpick and judge. No one will even remember my name.”

  “I will.”

  I scoff and wipe my eyes. “It’s a nice sentiment, Fox, but you’ve already missed your chance to get in my pants again.”

  I bolt toward the bathroom and Fox reaches for me as I pass him.

  “Dani, wait—”

  I jerk my arm away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

  I rush faster to beat the new steady stream of tears falling down my face.

  I close the door and lock it as a hard sob wrecks my chest. I sit down on the toilet seat and hang my head in my hands, feeling every possible emotion flow out of me. Anger. Embarrassment. Love. All in the name of Fox Fitzpatrick. I could feel it in his kiss, too. The same insatiable lust for me as I’ve always had for him.

  But none of it matters. Not like I thought it did.

  I turn on the sink and fill my palms with cool water to submerge my face in. The icy burn twinges my cheeks. I wince as it runs along the gash, washing salty sweat through the tiny, open wounds between stitches. My skin pulses with each thump my heart makes. Any moment now, my skin will split open and everything will tumble free… or so it feels.

  I put my hand on my chest to feel it and take a long, steady breath in. It’s an old theater trick a director taught me during my first TV job when I got nervous between takes. Put your hand on your heart and remember that it’s all just a machine in there. Machines can be studied and controlled. You’re the master of your machine, not the other way around. It’s silly and not very scientific, but I’ve always used it to calm my nerves when they start to take control of me.

  I focus on my breathing for several minutes, but I feel no more in control of it than when I began.

  That guy was a hack anyway. The show got canceled after three episodes.

  I pat my face dry with a towel and step back out into the room.

  The television is off. I don’t blame him, I guess. I wouldn’t want to look at me either after that.

  I look for him, but he’s gone.

  I don’t really blame him for that either.

  Chapter 21

  Dani

  Botsford Plaza Hotels are the gaudiest-looking places I’ve ever stayed at — gold fucking everywhere — but the staff is always pleasant no matter the location, so it’s a fair trade. This location is known for its dual tower design. There must be a local festival happening in Denver tonight. I look up into the sky and see long wires connecting the towers with large, colorful lanterns hanging between them.

  Fox pops the trunk and sifts through the black duffel bag of weapons and ammo. He grabs the Model 60 revolver and slips it into his belt. I hold out my hand and he exhales hard b
efore finally handing me my Glock.

  “Keep it out of sight,” he says.

  Five words. It’s the longest sentence he’s said to me all day long.

  Seven hours on the road and the most we could manage was brief nudges and monosyllabic mumbles. I suppose it’s better than the awkward alternative of actually talking to each other.

  He didn’t return to the room for at least three hours last night. I pretended to be asleep and listened to him stealthily maneuver around the room and into the other bed. I even lost track of him a few times. He must have been very good at his job.

  You know, the one where he killed people.

  Maybe he was right before. Everything really has changed.

  I hide the gun under my shirt as we make our way across the parking lot toward the hotel.

  Fox’s wide shoulders go tense as we look around the lobby. The entire lobby is packed to the brim with people in cocktail dresses and tuxedos. It’s not even nine o’clock yet and their cheeks are already pink with caviar and alcohol.

  I follow Fox, lingering a few feet behind him with my sunglasses on, as he wanders over to the front desk in the corner.

  “We’d like a room, please,” he tells the girl behind the desk.

  She smiles wide and her eyes shift between us. “One bed?” she assumes.

  “Two,” I mutter. “For the love of god, two.”

  Fox forces a grin. “Two beds, please.”

  She returns the smile and taps away at her computer. I feel his eyes on me, but I keep my head down like he asked me to. This isn’t a lonely diner on the highway. It’s a luxury hotel in the middle of a city. Excellent chance for me to get recognized.

  “Room 2617, sir.” She slides two keycards across the counter and Fox takes them. “Do you have any bags?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Have a good night.”

  “Thank you.” He nudges my elbow. “Come on.”

  “Holy shit.”

  His grip latches around my arm out of instinct but it loosens just as quickly. We turn around to see a short man in a deep blue suit with thick-rimmed, black glasses slowly walking toward us.