Taken by Storm

by Rochelle Alers

  “Do you have some ID?” asked Sergeant Timmons. Reaching into a pocket of his slacks, Rafe handed him the small leather case with his photo and shield. The police officer exchanged a look with his partner. “He’s good. What’s your connection to Miss Whitfield?”

  “She’s my fiancée.” It was the first thing that’d come to Rafe’s mind.

  “Miss Whitfield?”

  Simone knew he was asking her to confirm or deny Rafe’s assertion. “We are engaged,” she lied smoothly.

  The other officer ran a hand over his face. “I hate these damn domestic disputes,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “This is not a domestic dispute,” Simone said, correcting him. “This man is trespassing.” She pointed at her ex. “We’ve been divorced for eight years, and he’s never lived here.”

  Sergeant Timmons stared at Simone. “You can always get a restraining order, Miss Whitfield.”

  Moving closer to the man seated on the chair, Rafe glared at Anthony Kendrick. “She’s not going to need a restraining order. It’s obvious Mr. Kendrick has been drinking, so I suggest that when he sobers up you’ll impress upon him that if he comes within ten feet of my fiancée again I’m going to shoot him.”

  Anchoring a hand under Anthony’s shoulder, the sergeant eased him to his feet, eyebrows lifting when he was assailed by the smell of stale beer. “Let’s go, buddy. We’re going to take you somewhere so you can sleep it off.”

  Anthony struggled to escape the strong grip. “Take your hand off me.”

  The other officer moved over to assist his partner. “You’re quickly running out of options, Kendrick. Either you can come peaceably, or we’ll take you out in cuffs. But then we can always walk out and leave you here to catch a bullet.”

  Anthony sobered at the mention of bullet. He glared with rummy eyes over his shoulder at Simone. “Do you want to know why I cheated on you?”

  “Get him out of here!” she screamed.

  “I slept with other women because you’re a frigid bitch!”

  What happened next was a blur. Rafe hit Anthony, the savage blow knocking him to his knees. He drew back his arm to hit again, but one of the officers had Anthony’s arms behind his back, fastening a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

  Simone stood stunned as the police officers forcibly hauled her ex-husband out of the kitchen, Rafe following. She was still in the same spot when he returned.

  “I’m sorry you had to see me clock his ass,” he said quietly.

  She blinked once. “Better you hit him than me frying pan him.” She gestured to the large cast iron pan hanging from an overhead rack.

  The seconds ticked as they regarded each other. “You now have your answer about whether he’d cheated on you.” Rafe’s voice was soft, comforting.

  Simone closed her eyes. “I don’t care. I stopped caring a long time ago.”

  Bending slightly, he swung her up into his arms. “Let’s go to bed.”

  Simone buried her face between his neck and shoulder, feeling the raw, unleashed power in his upper body. “Please don’t leave me tonight,” she whispered as he climbed the staircase.

  She was pleading with Rafe to stay with her because she was tired, tired of pretending to be strong, tired of putting up a brave front for others because that was what others expected from her and tired of being “poor little Simone.”

  Rafe wanted to tell Simone that he wanted to spend this night and every night for the rest of his life with her. He carried her past her bedroom and into his. Light from the table lamp cast long and short shadows throughout the space.

  His gaze met and fused with hers as he lowered Simone to the bed. He took his time undressing. Turning his back, he stepped out of his boxer-briefs.

  Rafe hadn’t needed Simone to touch him to get him aroused. Just looking at her, inhaling her distinctive scent was enough for him to achieve full erection. He sat on the bed, turned off the lamp, swung his legs over the mattress and lay with his back to Simone, not wanting her to see his arousal. He’d promised not to touch her for several days, but keeping that promise tested the limits of his control.

  “Good night, baby.”

  Simone snuggled against his back. “Good night to you and to darling.”

  His deep, rich laugh filled the room. “You know?”

  “I saw it,” she teased.

  Placing her arm over Rafe’s waist, she pressed a kiss to his back. She didn’t want to think of Anthony’s allegation that she was a “frigid bitch.” There were times when she’d doubted herself, but it was never sexually. Oh, yes, there were times when she refused to let him make love to her, but only when she’d suspected that he was sleeping with other women.

  Anthony Kendrick could say anything he wanted about her, but there was one thing of which Simone was certain—she wasn’t frigid.

  CHAPTER 14

  Rafe sat in Malcolm and Lucinda Whitfield’s parlor, waiting for Simone, who’d come to tell her parents why a strange man was living with her.

  Not only were he and Simone living together, but they were also sleeping together. He’d made love to her a second time, again awed by the passion she had elicited from him. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of Simone Whitfield. He stood up in one smooth, fluid motion when her father entered the room.

  Tall and slender with close-cropped curly graying hair, hazel eyes and a trimmed mustache and goatee, Malcolm Whitfield exuded breeding and sophistication. Simone had informed him that her parents had returned from celebrating their thirty-eighth wedding anniversary in Bermuda, the same place where they’d gone for their honeymoon.

  Malcolm offered his hand to the man responsible for safeguarding his daughter. “I’d like to thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

  Rafe shook his hand. “There’s no need to thank me, Mr. Whitfield. It’s my job.” What he didn’t add was that it wasn’t his job to sleep with his witness, but doubted whether Malcolm would be pleased with that piece of news.

  “Job or not, I still want to thank you.”

  “The government is very grateful that Simone is cooperating with them. With her eyewitness testimony, they’ll be able to lock up a very dangerous criminal for the rest of his life.”

  Malcolm studied the tall, casually dressed federal officer, whose gaze never faltered. He judged people, men in particular, by their ability to look him directly in the eye, and Deputy Marshal Madison had passed his test.

  “Lucinda and I would love to have you stay for dinner.”

  “We can’t, Daddy,” Simone said, walking into the room. “I have bowling.”

  Turning around, Malcolm smiled at his eldest daughter. Despite all that was going on in her life he’d never seen her look better. Even when she’d retold the horror she’d witnessed, she didn’t appear at all frightened that she would have to sit in a courtroom and identify the man who’d stabbed her neighbor.

  Of his two daughters, Simone had always been the gutsy one. She preferred playing sports to ballet lessons, roughhousing with boys to playing with dolls. She’d also married young and chosen badly.

  Malcolm had lost track of the number of times his baby girl had come to him crying about her good-for-nothing husband. But there was little he could do about her dilemma. He couldn’t make Anthony Kendrick get a job any more than he could force Simone to leave him. He and Lucinda had assumed a mind-one’s-business attitude where it concerned their children’s romantic entanglements, because they knew survival and common sense would eventually prevail. When Simone had had enough of Anthony Kendrick, she left him.

  Placing an arm around her shoulders, Malcolm dropped a kiss on her hair. “When can you make time for your old man?”

  Tilting her chin, Simone smiled up at her father. “You’re not an old man, Daddy. We’re coming over Saturday morning for a fitting.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you Saturday.”

  On tiptoes, Simone kissed her father’s cheek. “Bye, Daddy.”

  He tugged at her ha
ir the way he’d done when she was a little girl. “Stay out of trouble.” It was something he’d said to her over and over whenever she went out to play with the kids in their neighborhood.

  Simone nodded to Rafe. “I’m ready.”

  Malcolm walked his daughter and her bodyguard to the door and stood on the porch watching as they got into a large black sport utility vehicle. He was still standing in the same spot when Rafe Madison backed out of the driveway.

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  He turned to stare at his wife. Her eyes were puffy, which told him that she’d been crying. Taking a step, he folded her to his chest. “Of course she’s going to be all right, Lucy. That young man is going to take very good care of our daughter.”

  Lucinda Whitfield wanted to believe her husband. She’d also wanted to believe her daughter when she reassured her that having a live-in bodyguard allowed her the freedom she wouldn’t have had if she were at a safe house or sequestered in a hotel or motel room. She wanted to believe them, but her doubts came when she was introduced to Raphael Madison. He looked nothing like she would’ve envisioned a federal marshal to look.

  “That young man you speak of looks like a rock star.”

  “That’s not such a bad thing, Lucy, because looks can be deceiving.”

  “I hope you’re right, Mal.”

  “Have I ever been wrong, Lucinda Whitfield?”

  His wife patted his chest. “I can remember the time you stood me up to go out with Christina Wright.”

  He smiled. “But I made up for that gross error in judgment when I married you.”

  Lucinda raised her head and smiled up at the man whom she’d loved for most of her life. “Yes, you did.”

  * * *

  Rafe found it hard to believe that it was only a few weeks ago that he’d come to White Plains to protect Simone Whitfield. His life had become a roller coaster—speeding up, slowing down and then speeding up again. And he hadn’t wanted to get off as long as Simone was along for the ride.

  He’d met her parents, reassuring them that he would keep their daughter safe. What he hadn’t told them was who would protect Simone Whitfield from Raphael Madison. He was in love with her, and refused to think of the time when he’d leave her.

  Ian Benton had been arraigned at the White Plains Federal Courthouse, pleading not guilty to charges of conspiracy, attempted murder, aggravated assault and assault with a deadly weapon. His attorney had gone through the formality of requesting bail, but it was denied. He’d spoken to the press at the conclusion of the arraignment, stating he was going to seek a change of jurisdiction because he doubted whether his client would get a fair trial because of the judge’s popularity.

  Rafe had viewed the news footage with disdain. Bail or no bail, guilty or not-guilty plea, Ian Benton was going to spend the rest of his natural life behind bars.

  The noise in the bowling alley had reached earsplitting decibels. It was the last game of the season and the stakes were high as to which team would come in second. Simone’s team was the undisputed first-place winner, but the fight for second had grabbed everyone’s attention with three teams vying for the position.

  The league had been set up to raise money for the children and widows of police officers who’d lost their lives during 9/11. Winning wasn’t about trophies, but bragging rights.

  Rafe glanced at his watch for the fifth time within the hour. Never one to sit on the sideline, he had always been a participant when it came to sports. Whether it was basketball, football or baseball, he’d been a competitive and an aggressive player. His high school and college coaches liked him not only because he played hard, but because he played to win. He’d recognized Simone’s competitive spirit within an hour of their initial meeting and knew he’d found his female counterpart.

  Cheers and applause thundered throughout the alley. The Long Blue Line bowling season had ended.

  Simone made her way over to Rafe, the thrill of victory showing in her smile and eyes. Rising on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down. She kissed him, not a quick brushing of the lips. Her lips parted seconds before her tongue slipped into his mouth, simulating his making love to her.

  “Let’s go home.”

  Rafe lifted his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going out with the others to celebrate?” The bowlers had planned to celebrate the end of season at a City Island seafood restaurant.

  Simone shook her head. “No. The last time I hung out with these folks I wound up with a hangover.”

  “How many drinks did you have?”

  “Only one,” she admitted.

  “Maybe I should’ve said what did you drink?”

  “I had a Long Island iced tea.”

  Rafe affected a grimace. “It’s no wonder you were sick. Do you know what makes up a Long Island iced tea?”

  “I know now. As soon as I change my shoes we can leave.”

  “Hey, Simone, are you hanging out with us tonight?”

  She smiled one of the female officers. “I can’t. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

  “So, do I,” quipped a twenty-year veteran who’d just submitted the necessary documents for retirement, “but I’m still going.”

  There came a chorus of “come on,” and “you gotta go,” until Rafe grasped Simone’s hand and escorted her out of the bowling alley. She knew if he hadn’t been there she probably wouldn’t have been able to make as smooth an exit. There was something about Rafe when he went into deputy marshal mode that was intimidating.

  * * *

  Rafe drove back to White Plains, relieved that Simone hadn’t elected to stay and celebrate with the others. The less she interacted with crowds, the easier it was for him to protect her. The risks to her survival increased exponentially whenever they weren’t in a controlled environment.

  “I’m glad you decided not to go out celebrating tonight,” he confessed to Simone, as he carried her up the stairs to the second story.

  “Why’s that?”

  Lowering his head, his gaze lingered on her lush mouth. The soft gold light from a wall sconce highlighted the gold in her hair, eyes and skin. “I want you all to myself.”

  Simone stared up at him through her lashes. “I didn’t realize you were so selfish.”

  “I’m…” He stopped himself before admitting that he was jealous, jealous of every man who looked at or spoke to Simone. He suspected they wanted her as much as he wanted her and would always want her.

  At first Rafe believed he’d been lusting after Simone. But that all changed once they shared a bed. Sleeping with her made him aware of who he was and what he wanted for himself and his future.

  He’d realized a boyhood dream to become a Major League ballplayer, but his dream was short-lived when he was forced to walk away from baseball to resolve a family crisis.

  He’d believed his two-year liaison with Dorene Eustace would eventually lead to marriage and children, but he’d had to walk away again when she confessed to carrying another man’s child.

  And now it was Simone Whitfield. She’d claimed their sleeping together was “only sex,” but to him it’d become more—so much more.

  “I’m tired.” He’d told her a half truth.

  Rafe was tired, tired of hiding his feelings, tired of pretending that protecting Simone was his official duty as a U.S. deputy marshal.

  “It’s no wonder you’re not falling on your face, Rafe Madison,” she chided softly. “You were insatiable last night.”

  If he’d been insatiable, it was because Simone had also been insatiable. As promised, he’d waited a few days before making love to her again. Just when he was ready to sleep in late, Simone informed him that she wanted to go jogging. He’d tried talking her out of it, but she claimed she was ready to return to the place where she’d witnessed the assault on her neighbor and faced down a would-be attacker.

  “I’m tired because I had to get up at the crack of dawn to run around a track with my fiancée.”r />
  “How did I go from being your witness to your girlfriend and now your fiancée in a week?”

  He flashed a Cheshire cat grin. “I don’t believe in wasting time.”

  “I suppose we’ll be husband and wife by the end of the month, and the parents of twins before the end of summer.”

  “Now that sounds like a plan.”

  “Rafe!” Simone’s husky voice had gone up several octaves.

  “Simone!” he said in falsetto.

  “I’m serious.”

  “And I’m not?” Rafe asked her.

  Her shock yielded to a slowly rising annoyance. “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’d marry you.”

  Rafe came to a complete stop at the top of the staircase. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, I believe I’d score higher than your ex-husband. I’d never permit my wife to support me or our children. And whatever goes on in our bedroom stays in our bedroom.”

  “Despite what you might believe, I do recognize your good qualities, Mr. Madison.”

  “You don’t have to patronize me, Simone.”

  “I’m not trying to patronize you. I’d like to get married again, and when I do I’d like to have children. But that’s not going to happen now, because it’s only been six months since I decided to let go of Anthony Kendrick. Six months is insignificant when compared to sixteen years.”

  Rafe shifted the slight weight in his arms and continued down the hallway to his bedroom. “We’re not engaged, which means we’re not getting married. So there’s no need for further dialogue,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  Simone pushed against his chest. “I wasn’t the one who referred to you as my fiancé.”

  Walking into the bedroom, he deposited Simone on the bed, his body following and covering hers. “Enough,” he whispered harshly against her parted lips.

  Placing her hands on his shoulders, she attempted to push him off her. “Don’t you dare tell…” His mouth covered hers, stopping her tirade.

  What had begun as a battle of wills, a struggle for dominance faded, replaced by a rush of desire that set Simone on fire. His hands were everywhere: her face, hair, searching under fabric to touch skin.