A knock came on the door and Mitch abruptly stepped away. A blow of cold wind filled the empty space where Mitch had been. She straightened, cheeks hot, as the door opened and Agent Davis stepped in. Smoothing her hair, her lips humming from the friction, she saw the knowing look in Davis's eyes.
"Agent Davis," she said quickly, sounding breathless even to herself. "Mitch told me the good news."
The agent looked between them, eyes narrowed, as if they'd satisfied a suspicion he'd carried for a long time. "I imagine he did. Were you celebrating?"
Mitch rolled his shoulders, turned and draped one arm around Jess. "You could say that."
Mitch's display of affection, of acknowledgment, made her heart stutter with surprise. He didn't care anymore what Davis thought and she stood taller beside him, determined not to care either.
"I wanted to let you know we're not in the clear yet. We've put some feelers out, and it doesn't look like Grady hired anyone else, but you should keep your guard up, at least until we catch him."
"What do we do in the meantime?" Jess asked, hoping he'd tell her she and Mitch could go back to the estate.
"I'm sure you'll find something to keep you occupied." Davis gave Mitch an odd look. "Just keep your eyes open."
"Will do," Mitch answered in a way that said he didn't need to be told to do his job, he did it in his sleep.
Davis started through the door, then stopped and went to Jess. He shook her hand. "It's been a real pleasure, Ms. Owen. If you need anything, let us know."
"Thank you, I will." She gave him a little wave as he left and then turned to Mitch. "Aren't they gonna be at the house still?"
"Don't know." Mitch shook his head. "We've got enough security, we don't need them. It'll be fine."
"What about my mom? Is she still under guard?"
"Yeah, we'll keep her covered until Grady's caught." He smiled softly, pointedly at her, a soft caress. "You ready to go home?"
"Home." Jess wouldn't have believed, even a moment ago, it would be so difficult to think of leaving L.A.–to leave Mitch. "You think I should go back to Milwaukee now?"
Mitch studied her, his dark eyes conflicted. "It might be a good idea, to be on the safe side, if you stayed here until we've got Grady in custody. You might want to wait and see if Beth comes around before you head back."
She nodded. Her mother. Half of her wished her mother would wake up right away, the other half hoped her mother didn't wake up until she was safely back in Milwaukee.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Her mother had done the leaving, she should do the returning, instigate the reunion, not the daughter who'd been abandoned. It felt like an apology for something she hadn't done.
Mitch enveloped her in his big arms. She laid her head against his chest, heard the steady, strong beat of his heart. At least she wouldn't have to leave him so soon. On the other hand, if she stayed here much longer, leaving would become just as hard as staying.
She closed her eyes, and wished it was all over, that she was already back home, and that Mitch had truly decided to sell off all his stuff and head for greener pastures.
Chapter Thirteen Mitch found Jared in his home office. He looked better, less exhausted, more his normal self. "Did you hear the news yet?"
Jared looked up from whatever he'd been doing on the computer. A startled, almost wary look in his eyes changed to a welcoming glow. "Mitch. I did hear. I'm so glad that you and Jess are both safe. Thank God they've finally got what they need to go after Grady. Now they can leave me alone. Any word on when they'll catch up to him?"
Mitch nodded. "They think it'll be a few days at most. With this evidence, they got enough now to get him extradited back to the states."
"Excellent." Jared clicked his mouse a few times as Mitch sat in the chair across from him. The sound of the computer closing down filled the momentary silence. When Jared looked back at him, his face had fallen into deeper lines of worry. "The hospital called. The bomb threat turned out to be a false alarm. Beth is back in her room, safe and sound. I don't like leaving her there, though. I wonder, could we bring her home? I'd hire the best nurses to care for her."
Mitch shook his head. "Wait until Grady's in custody and she's strong enough to be away from the doctors."
Jared sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Of course. I just…miss her."
Mitch wondered how he'd feel if it was Jess in a coma, if she was the one trapped in a deep dark place far away from him. He certainly wouldn't be sitting at a computer, or worried about the FBI and the LAPD investigating him. He had a feeling he'd spend most of his time praying to a God he wasn't a hundred percent sure even existed. That made him feel like a hypocrite. "I know you miss her, Jared. You can spend as much time at the hospital as you need to."
"It's not the same." Jared scowled. "I want my wife back. I want our life back."
Uncomfortable, Mitch leaned forward, elbows on knees, and studied his hands. In these situations, the client was either used to giving orders, putting on a front for the troops, or simply too frightened to hear logic. Beth had managed to drag him into the fold, like a cult-leader brainwashing their followers into becoming part of the family. Maybe it really was time for him to retire if maintaining his distance was getting too hard. He had no idea what to say to Jared.
Jared, obviously sensing his unease, waved a hand in the air. "Never mind, Mitch. You've done an excellent job for us. I don't think we'll need your services any longer–if you'd rather see to the needs of someone else, move on, so to speak, I'd completely understand."
"No." Mitch said too quickly, too brusquely. Leave right now? This day? No, he wasn't going anywhere. "I'll stick around until Grady's in custody."
"I appreciate your loyalty, Mitch." Jared's dark eyes bore into him. "But it's really not necessary. I don't want your abilities wasted on babysitting us. Pullman can keep us safe while we wait."
Mitch stood. "All the same, I'd like to stick it through. I've never left a job unfinished."
"As you wish." Jared sounded almost hostile now. Mitch had a creepy sensation, a stray thought, a gut instinct that he didn't care for. Jared reclined in his seat. "Is Jess going back to Milwaukee?"
"No. I'd rather not risk it yet." Mitch sounded colder than he meant, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Jared…What? What about Jared? He knows more than he's letting on. "Did something happen while we were out this morning?"
"No, not at all. Why do you ask?"
The question sounded innocent, so genuine, that Mitch felt disloyal for his sudden suspicion. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. Beth will wake up soon, Grady'll be put away for a long time, and you can get your life back."
"I certainly hope so. This ordeal has been completely exhausting."
Mitch edged toward the door. "I'll let you get back to work."
"Thanks Mitch, thanks for everything." Jared picked up a pen, sliding a stack of papers in front of him. "I'll be down for dinner this evening."
Mitch nodded and left to find Jess. He wanted to see her with his own eyes, to make sure she was okay, and not lying in the dining room, bleeding from a bullet wound. As he passed through the carpeted corridor, he forced himself to a steady pace, forced himself to ignore the crazy urge to run. * * *
Jess stepped backward to get a more overall view of the landscape hanging above the large fireplace. She took another bite of the large apple in her hand, chewing as she gazed at the pattern of brush strokes. The view was of the back of the estate, the same view she'd seen from her bedroom window. Someone had done this painting. Someone with the initials B.W. Beth Weston? Was her mother an artist?
The apple was sweet, juicy, and tasted better than any she'd had before. She took another bite, almost mechanically, unable to allow a moment to pass where the delicious nectar wasn't filling her mouth, sluicing over her taste buds. She'd heard of extreme experiences sharpening the senses, making things more intense, but she'd never thought it could make an apple taste as if it was from hea
ven itself.
"Hey, Jess."
She turned and saw Mitch leaning against the door frame. Her body filled with the sparkling sensation that he evoked, and like the apple, the feeling was stronger than any she'd had. I'm gonna implode, right here, on the spot. She managed to croak a weak, "Hey."
Mitch straightened and came closer, disturbing the air with his leather and spice sent. "How are you feeling? You okay?"
She nodded and swallowed the bite of apple. "Yeah, I just hate waiting."
He stood too close, his gaze heavy on all the parts of her that wanted his touch. He rubbed her upper arms gently with a friction that exploded through her. "Me too, Sugarplum."
Jess swallowed and grinned, "Don't call me…."
She didn't get to finish. His mouth captured hers, cutting her off. She didn't care. This was where she wanted to be– where she wanted to stay. His tongue invaded her mouth, searching, tasting, rubbing against her tongue in a luxurious carnal tingle she felt in her toes. In seconds, she was lost, feeling the hardness of his chest against her soft breasts, feeling the hardness of him against her belly.
He kissed her with his entire body. Her arms wound around his neck, she trusted him to support her, to take the weight of the world off her shoulders and let him sweep her away to this fantasy. His dreams became hers, her future melded to his. She was lost to him, to the man who read her so well, who cared for her in a way no one else ever had, who thought she was worth fighting for. A man who believed in her, the woman, the real person no one else took the time to see.
"I can't resist you," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and sensual. "You taste so sweet."
She remembered the apple then, clutched in her fist. She could feel the sticky dampness over her hand where she'd squeezed the half-eaten core. She brought it forward, unable to find the words to explain it was the apple, not her.
Mitch took it and dragged the juice across her throat, following the neckline of her shirt, pressing it against her galloping heart so the nectar dripped between her breasts.
He followed the juice with his mouth, lapping the sticky wetness with his tongue. Jess moaned, bent back by the pressure of his heavenly mouth, arched over the glorious strength of his arm. Eyes closed, she gave herself to the sensation, to fully experiencing his magic.
His chin tugged on the line of her shirt, dragging it down as he followed the sweetness further. Her free hand knotted in the back of his shirt, begging him to keep going, to finish this finally, to take her here, in this opulent room, with her mother's painting hanging over them, like a promise of paradise.
"Mitch," Jess called softly. She couldn't breathe, didn't want to, didn't want to wake up, but they weren't alone in the house, weren't somewhere private where they could finish this. Oh, she didn't want him to stop. "Mitch."
He lifted his head, eyes dark with erotic promise. She couldn't take it. A glow ignited into an explosion in her gut. She wanted to double over and answer the intense need herself if she had to.
His jaw hardened, as if he too felt the pain of denied release. Without a word he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the back of the house. She glimpsed a busy kitchen, two people chatting by a huge refrigerator, but it barely registered. Her heart still raced, her body still screamed for him. She ran beside him, matching his long strides with two of her own.
Outside, she was confronted by the hazy, humid reality of the painting–a surreal journey through Wonderland. Following a path toward a large building that looked like stables, images of disheveled, busty women with hay sticking from their hair filled her head. She quickened her pace.
Inside, the scent of clean hay, horses, and wood mingled with the motes of dust in the late afternoon sunshine. Mitch tossed the apple toward a beautiful white horse, pulled her further along, grabbed a blanket draped over a hook on the wall. He turned to her. She didn't stop, but rushed into his arms.
She kissed him with everything she had, pulling at his shirt, almost frantic to feel his naked chest beneath her hands. No turning back.
"Jess," he whispered in a voice full of need. He walked her backward, his mouth never leaving hers. The rhythm of his tongue inside her mouth stoked the flames already raging through her body. She felt, rather than saw him toss the blanket over a heap of hay in the empty stall behind her. She was suddenly on her back, looking up at him, her hands inside his shirt, feeling the sparse bits of hair over the muscled chest she'd dreamed about since the day they'd met.
"Hurry," she pleaded.
He rose enough to discard the shirt. Jess lifted herself to press her mouth against the black work tattoo spiraling outward from his broad shoulder, dropping down to pass over the top of his nipple. She took that dark, hardened skin between her lips, grazing it lightly with her teeth. He inhaled sharply, his hand pressing into the back of her hair with gentle need.
He pulled her back and dropped his mouth over hers again, pressing her into the mound of hay with his hips and the hard length of him burning through the fabric of his pants. Lifting her shirt high on her ribs, he carefully spread kisses across her bruises. She arched beneath him, eyes closed, ready and impatient reveling in the mixture of pleasure, of pain.
He pushed her shirt higher, unhooked the front clasp on her bra, and left, hot, open-mouthed kisses along the bird of paradise tattoo spread between her breasts. The feathered wings flared over the rise of flesh, the dangling tail dripped toward her navel. He left no detail untasted, no line untouched. She wanted his mouth to find the others on her body, to bathe them with his magical touch.
His thumbs teased her nipples into knots of sensitized flesh and she hummed with pleasure. Then he suckled, tongue and teeth bringing her to the brink. She called his name, raised her knees, and pulled him forward. She wanted him now.
Mitch trailed kisses down to her belly button, filling the soft well with his tongue. Her toes curled painfully inside her shoes and she kicked them off, crying his name louder this time, begging him to end her torment. Lost to the erotic wave of desire crashing over her, she barely noticed her pants slide down, his tugging on the blue panties she'd put on that morning.
She placed her weight on her shoulders and mindlessly lifted her pelvis up, aiding him as best as she could without any real brain left working in her head. Somehow she managed to unzip his pants, to start tugging them back down over the rise of his firm backside. His skin slid across hers, hard and sleek, rising, sliding as he twisted and pulled. Then they were naked. He kissed her again, his scorching flesh covering her trembling, vibrating body.
"Jess, I need you," his voice rumbled in her ear. "I need you now."
"Yes," she managed, lifting and inviting him inside her without another word.
Instantly, he was in her, the whole of him, filling her to the core. She cried out in ecstasy, matching his rhythm, taking all of him. Again and again he drove her deeper into the hay.
She grabbed his shoulders, held the bulging muscles of his arms, kissed any part of him that neared her mouth. The hairs on his chest brushed over her sensitive nipples, adding to the frenzy exploding inside of her.
He moaned her name, over and over again, calling to her, nearly growling in the deep rumble of his darkly enticing voice. She felt herself building to the moment of explosion, her inner self tightening around him, expanding and growing and howling with the need for release. He quickened, urged on by her insistent demand for more, for harder, for right now.
Then it happened. The climax came over her in a tidal wave of molten gold, flowing through her and out of her with such force, she hollered the release, arching up in a spasm that killed any semblance of humanity in her, that ate up her sanity and left her dazed.
He cried out a moment later, shaking and pulsing his release, so deep inside her, she felt every beat, every nuance of his nirvana. He collapsed on her, elbows taking the most of his weight, but not enough to keep her from trembling everywhere.
Breathing hard, her hands tracing lazy circles over
his back, she took many minutes to find her control, to gather the pieces of herself back into a whole person again.
"You're amazing," Mitch said softly, his voice filled with wonder. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Jess shook her head, still incapable of forming any words. A horse chuffed directly over head. She twisted and saw the dark nose of a horse watching them. It's wide gaze seemed to say, "I know what you're doing and you've got it all wrong."
She chuckled and Mitch turned to look too. He laughed, his entire body shifting on top of her. Tossing a handful of hay, Mitch said, "Hey, Mr. Ed, go get your own filly."
Whether the horse understood or not, the flying hay sent him back into his own stall.
Grinning, Jess said, "You've got a way with animals."
"So do you."
She understood he meant him, and patted his head, rubbing the stubble. "Good boy."
Smiling, he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then her lips, lingering for a moment, before rolling off her and gathering his shirt. Silently, they dressed. Jess turned away, suddenly shy and overcome by a sense of vulnerability. God, she knew what they meant by orgasmic now. Her fingers still trembled as she hooked her bra in place.
Behind her, she heard the sound of him pulling up the zipper on his pants. "Jess?"
"Hmm?" She tugged her shirt over head and worked her panties back up, shifting to her knees to get them all the way on.
Mitch was behind her, pulling hair from inside her shirt, making her shiver. "I was thinking, when it's time for you to go home, back to Milwaukee, I mean, how would you like some company?"
She swiveled, surprised. "You'd do that?"
He shrugged, smiling. "I could use a vacation."
Hope drained away. Nothing permanent. Just like all the men in my life. She could just imagine what her dad would think.
No, I'm not gonna let him rule my life anymore.
The thought shocked the resentment that had been building in her to the surface. She had been too afraid to look at what it really meant. Her life had been spent caring for grown men who should be able to take care of themselves. She had given up all her dreams, all her own plans, because she was afraid.
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