The Closer I Get to You (Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 8)

by Melanie Schuster

“Well, don’t mind me, come on up,” she said absentmindedly as she stroked Merlin’s ears. “Where are you off to?” she asked Aidan, although she already knew the answer.

  “I’m on my nightly prowl to nowhere, driving aimlessly around while we wait for the perp to show,” he said blithely. Suddenly he looked glum. “I just said ‘perp’. I’m starting to pick up the vocabulary of all those ghoulish detectives or P.I.'s or whatever they call themselves. I’m going to lose my sardonic edge and start sounding like a rerun of ‘Cops’ pretty soon. He came all the way into her room and surprised her with a kiss on the forehead.

  “Be careful and sleep well. Throw Merlin out if he starts fooling around,” he advised and abruptly left the room.

  Paris looked at Merlin, who’d made himself quite comfortable on the mohair afghan at the foot of the bed and sighed as she closed her journal. Her keeper for the night was Heide, who was in the downstairs den, which was lit by one dim light only. She felt sorry for her because her job was to remain out of sight and perfectly still until George or whoever it was made a move. Then it was her job to signal the men outside and they’d come barreling in and grab him. It was a simple plan but in Paris’s experience nothing was that simple. Nothing had happened over the past two nights and she had not reason to believe anything would happen tonight. Oddly enough though, a part of her wanted tonight to be the night, she’d had enough of the whole ordeal. And she’d had enough of being away from Titus.

  She said her prayers as she always did, kneeling next to her big bed. Then she slid under the covers and turned off the light with a sigh that started at her toes and ran through her whole body. And then the little shiver that always preceded her fantasies about Titus would assail her and the memory of being in his arms would take her off to dreamland. They always started at the same point, the night she’d spent with Titus in his condo, the night he’d cared for her so tenderly and made her feel like the most desirable woman on earth. She’d actually bought a huge bottle of Neutrogena Rainbath because the delightful fragrance of the gel was now a permanent part of her memory. She’d never smell it again without thinking about that night.

  She tossed restlessly in the big bed, wishing with all her heart that Titus were there with her, to touch her, to say the sweet things he’d said that night, to teach her more of the erotic pleasures he’d shown her that night… Her body flamed with desire and as always she was choked by the passion she felt for him. Titus. Despite everything she’d vowed in the past, she loved him. There was no point in trying to fool herself, nor was there any reason to believe that he could return her feelings in the same way and they’d live happily ever after. It wasn’t in the cards for them because he’d never be able to love her in the same way. But he did desire her. That much was plain and it gave her an odd sort of comfort. And for now, desire was all she had. She drifted off to sleep, unaware of the tears rolling down her face.

  A short time later, Paris’s eyes flew open and she winced in pain. Her heart leaped to her throat, pounding madly as she became aware that someone was pulling her hair. Then she heard the yowling and hissing and realized it was Merlin. “Cat, have you lost your mind?” she asked sleepily. “Cut it out or you’ll be banished to the garage.” She was about to close her eyes again when Merlin hurled himself against her, emitting a low whining growl she’d never heard before. Just then she heard a sound on the steps and she knew why Merlin had gone mad; there was someone in the house.

  Wishing with all her heart she’d taken Lucien up on his offer of a gun, she got out of bed as quietly as possible and looked around for a weapon. There was a pair of Georgian silver candlesticks on her chest of drawers and she was inching her way to get it when she heard a voice, a strange yet oddly familiar voice. “I’ve got you now, bitch.”

  ***

  Titus wasn’t feeling it that night. Something was wrong. All his instincts and training were on red alert and he knew with a certainty that things were going wrong. He spoke quietly into his mobile unit, “I’m going in. Wilson triggered the silent alarm but Heide didn’t give the signal, something is going down right now.”

  “I got your back, T.” That was all the assurance he needed, coming from his best field agent. Paul Brown was as cool of head and as fearless as Titus and he had Titus’s complete trust. Titus entered the darkened house and silently made his way into the den where his worst fears were realized; Heide was unconscious on the floor. Something that looked like a tranquilizer dart was in her back. She was definitely alive though, and that’s what mattered. A sudden crash from the second level made him move with the speed of a jungle cat and he was upstairs in three bounds. The lights suddenly came on and what he saw froze his blood; Paris was being held by her neck and a gun was being pointed at her temple by the man from the video tape, George Wilson. He was anything but calm, his eyes were wild and his nose was running like a crackhead. His lips were ashy and dry and he was laughing, a weird staccato giggle like a madman in a second rate horror movie.

  “Well, well, well, what have we here? Come to rescue Miss Priss, here?” he cackled. “It’s not gonna happen, not tonight.”

  Titus could feel his rage reaching a dangerous point as the man locked his arm around Paris’s throat more securely and pulled her body, clad in only a silk nightshirt, closer to him.

  “Let her go. Let’s talk about this,” Titus said soothingly. “You don’t want to die, and I don’t want to kill you. Just let her go, and you can leave, simple as that,” he said, hoping with all his heart that he sounded sincere. Apparently he didn’t succeed in convincing Wilson.

  More maniacal laughter was his response. “Let her go? I don’t think so. This is the first time I’ve seen her real up close and I have to tell you, she looks better in person. This is a fine piece of woman here. I might decide to just keep her, what you gonna do about that? Hunh? What can you do, big man? I got a gun and you got a gun and I got your woman, so what you gonna do?”

  At that moment Merlin leapt from the top of the chest of drawers in Paris’s bedroom and flew through the air, launching himself at the man’s face. Wilson’s gun went off and so did Titus’s, but Titus was the better shot and it was all over as Wilson slumped to the floor. Paris almost went down with him, but Titus caught her. She choked back a sob and started laughing. Titus was dressed all in black with a hooded spandex jacket and pants. He also had black camouflage paint on his face and he looked rather odd. Entirely beautiful to her relieved eyes but totally odd. He scooped up Merlin, who licked him in the face.

  “I’m buying you a case of caviar, cat. You deserve it,” Titus mumbled. Paris’s laughter continued as Terry Patterson, also in blackface arrived on the stair landing. She was so relieved she didn’t realize how close to hysteria she was. By now sirens were wailing and the house was flooded with light as all kind of floodlights were turned on to aid the police.

  Paris was still clinging to Titus, loving the feeling of his strong arms around her. Suddenly she laughed again.

  “I’ll bet the neighbors are loving this,” she said. A pitiful meow made her take Merlin from Titus’s arm. “Aww, Merlin, you poor kitty, I didn't thank you, did I? You’re a hero, did you know that?” She stroked him comfortingly, when gasped as she felt something wet and sticky.

  “Merlin, you’re bleeding! Oh my God,” she cried as she took him into the bathroom ad used her expensive pink hand towel to wipe him. “Hold still, sweetie, I don’t see a wound of any kind, where did you get the blood from?”

  The answer was only too obvious as Titus suddenly slumped forward and called her name before falling. She was there to catch him, though, as best she could. “Terry, help me,” she shouted. “Hold on baby, I’ve got you, I’ve got you baby. It’s going to be fine, Titus, I’ve got you.”

  Of course you do, Rosy, you’ve always had me in the palm of your hand.

  Chapter Twenty

  Titus came awake slowly, his eyelids were heavy from the effect of the sedative he’d been given. Unbelievable
as it seemed, he’d really been shot. It was a minor wound, but the way Paris had carried on you would have thought otherwise. His lips turned up in a faint smile as he remembered how Paris had yelled at Terry, the ambulance driver and anyone else who stood between Titus and instant medical treatment. She had ridden in the ambulance with him, refused to change clothes or put on a coat and stayed with him in her bloodied nightshirt, holding onto to his hand as she gave him all the comfort she could. He’d thought at the time that she was the one who could have used some comforting because she looked so stricken by his injury, but she was a Deveraux after all, and she could take it. She was definitely the woman to have on your side; she’d be there come hell or high water.

  There was a soft pressure around his right hand and he flexed his fingers slightly and was comforted to feel that pressure returned. He opened his eyes to find Paris sound asleep in a very uncomfortable looking position. She was sitting in a hard chair pulled up next to the bed and her head was pillowed on his shoulder. Someone had provided her with a sweat suit to wear and she looked utterly exhausted, even though she was asleep. She’d never looked more appealing to Titus, however. He moved his head so he could kiss her, just a gentle caress on her forehead. She barely stirred but she squeezed his fingers gently and murmured his name. It was more than enough for Titus, who drifted right back to sleep.

  ***

  Paris sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling Merlin in her arms. He was purring happily while she told him again what a brave, superlative cat he was. He accepted her homage as his due, although every time her hand would stop stroking him, he would emit a sharp yowl and bat at her hand until she continued the cuddling. Aidan looked amused at the two of them and told her she’d brought it all on herself.

  “You know you can’t dote on him, he’s so rottenly spoiled he mistakes every gesture of goodwill for voluntary servitude.” Merlin looked insulted and gave a lazy hiss in Aidan’s direction, but he didn’t move from his seat on Paris.

  “He deserves every accolade, he’s a wonderful, brave and resourceful cat and he saved me. I love him and he can do no wrong,” Paris said dreamily.

  Aidan continued to put the last of his belongings into a canvas valise and glanced at Paris. “That’s sort of the way I feel about Titus,” he admitted.

  “What? You mean you’re not referring to him as Lord Voldemort anymore? I can’t believe it! What changed your mind about him?”

  Aidan closed his suitcase as he spoke. “Because even I, the permanently cynical and jaded, can see the change in him; he's not the same person. Looks like the Tinman has been given his heart,” he sat as he lifted the heavy valise off the bed.

  Paris stared at him as she set Merlin off her lap and stood clumsily. Pushing her hair out of her eyes she tried to look casual and unconcerned. “And what does that mean?”

  “Don’t be coy, you know what it means. Come on, Merlin, we’re heading back to the homestead.” He left the guest room and went down the stairs with Merlin scampering ahead of him. Paris followed more slowly, looking at the freshly papered wall of the landing. Aidan knew some people who came out the morning after the scene was released by the Atlanta Police Department and put the upstairs back in order. They had removed the bloodstains from the wall and replaced the wallpaper. They also stripped the floor and refinished it and everything looked the way it should, although Paris wasn’t sure she felt the same way about living here. A part of her could never forget that this was where Titus had been shot while he was rescuing her. And she could never, ever forget that a man had broken in here and tried to kill her. A shudder passed through her body and she shook it off to follow Aidan down the stairs.

  “Aidan, just say it outright, I don’t have time for your cryptic nonsense,” she said in a voice that was dangerously close to a whine. She stopped dead in her tracks, however, when she realized Aidan wasn’t alone in the room. Titus was there, too, looking handsome and healthy with a stern look on his face. Paris’s eyes got huge and Aidan grinned smugly on his way out the door. He had the valise in one hand and the other hand held a carrier containing Merlin, who was making his distress known at the top of his lungs.

  “It’s been lovely, we’ll have to do it again sometime, stay in touch and Titus, it’s good to see you upright and taking nourishment. Buh-bye!” Paris narrowed her eyes at Aidan as he winked and took his leave. She closed the door behind him and turned around to face Titus, who looked as forbidding as he had when she entered the room. He looked perfectly well, though, that was what was important. He was wearing a blue oxford cloth dress shirt opened at the neck with the sleeves rolled up. It was tucked into his faded and precisely pressed jeans and it enhanced his eyes, which despite his cool demeanor, were the warm shade that meant he was relaxed and happy. It suddenly hit her that he wasn’t supposed to be here at all.

  “Titus, why aren’t you in the hospital? When were you released?”

  “They turned me loose this morning, as you would have known had you been there with me. You left me, Paris,” he said with a frown. “Why did you leave me?”

  “I-I-I,” Paris stammered. She looked as flustered as she felt, then something snapped. “I left because I felt I was getting in the way of your treatment. I was trying to make sure you got the best possible care and I was just in the way. And I needed a shower and a decent meal, thank you very much for asking. I’ve done nothing but worry about you and be there for you and I called every single member of your family and made sure they wouldn’t worry and…”

  She was so caught up in what she was saying that she didn’t realize she was walking towards Titus as she made her points, or that he was walking towards her. He stopped directly in front of her and stemmed her tirade by putting his lips on hers. After a long and tender kiss he pulled away slowly and kissed her forehead and her temple.

  “Baby, I know what you did and why you left, I was just teasing you,” he said softly. Taking her by the hand he led her over to the sofa where he made her sit down on his lap and held her closely, kissing her neck and whispering her name. “I’m fine, Paris, I really am. I’m made out of granite, bullets bounce off me. I’m concerned about you, though. How are you doing, sweetheart?”

  “I’m okay, Titus, I’m fine, in fact. I’m bracing myself for the invasion of the over-protective Deverauxes because my brothers are on their way, along with my daddy. I made them promise to wait until my birthday to come, but I wouldn’t count on their cooperation. They’re not going to be happy until they see for themselves that I’m in one piece.”

  “I don’t blame them one bit,” Titus said solemnly. “You’re precious to them, just like you are to me. If I were a couple of states away from you, I’d be on my way here too, to make sure you’re okay. You went through a lot, baby, and you need someone to watch over you.”

  Paris was touched and surprised to hear those words from Titus, but she had to make a point. She nestled closer to his uninjured side and stroked his face while she kissed him, little sweet kisses that she bestowed between her words.

  “I’m fine, Titus, I don’t need a nursemaid. And besides, I didn’t go through that much. Don’t make it sound like I was a suffering maiden in a tower,” she told him in a teasing voice. “Besides,” her voice faltered a little. “It’s all over now.”

  It was indeed all over. George Wilson had been taken into custody by the Atlanta Police Department but he tried to escape and was shot for his efforts. He died on the operating table of the same hospital where Titus was treated. Paris stared at Titus with stricken eyes.

  “I still can’t believe he was after me because he was so obsessed with Gayle. If he was going to start a vendetta with someone, why didn’t he go after the ones who got her hooked on drugs, who kept taking her money to buy those prescription drugs online and sent her into bankruptcy?” she asked angrily.

  Titus silenced her by taking her lips in a kiss. “Come on, Rosy, don’t get all upset. It’s impossible for us to ferret out other people’s motives
for aberrant behavior, especially when they’re as disturbed as Wilson was. He’s gone now, really gone, and he can’t bother you again,” Titus said quietly. They were both quiet for a moment, until Titus broke the silence. “I have to tell you, Paris, when he had his hands on you, when he was touching you with that gun in his hand, I wanted to kill him. I never wanted anything in my life more than to see his brains splattered on the wallpaper. God forgive me, but it’s the truth. If anything had happened to you…” his voice trailed off and he kissed her again and again with growing need and passion. “If anything ever happens to you the person who does it better be long gone before I get there, because Hell will be a party for them compared to what I’d do.”

  Paris was speechless. “Titus, I don’t know what to say.”

  He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Well, Rosy, maybe you’d better show me if you can’t tell me. Let’s go upstairs.”

  A low, throaty giggle escaped her throat and she tried to look scandalized, but she was already heating up from Titus’s touch. “Why am I never looking seductive and sensual at these moments? Look at me, I’m so not sexy it’s ridiculous,” she said resignedly.

  Titus looked at her from her hair, which was still damp from the shower and a mass of natural curls, to her toes, which were adorned with pink cashmere socks. She was wearing a pale green cotton knit outfit consisting of a long sleeved top with a V-neck and matching leggings. She wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup, but she smelled really good.

  “You don’t get it, Rosy. You’re always beautiful to me and you always look sexy. I think about making love to you all day, every day. And you smell fantastic, too. What’s the name of that perfume? I don’t want you to ever run out,” he said with a lust-filled smile.

  “It’s called Stella,” she said in a soft, sweet voice. “And if you come upstairs I’ll show you the bottle so you’ll know what to buy.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what else will you show me?” he growled.