“Mmmmm?”
“Jill. Tell me how you feel, please.” Holdin turned to his commanding voice. He wanted to say so many other things, but it was more important to know if she was physically all right.
“Tired, a bit sore.” Her voice was softly subdued.
Finally done cleaning her, Holdin lay down beside her and wrapped his body around his precious woman. He was half lying on his side as she still lay on her back. Both her legs were propped up over his hip as she often did when they cuddled. She said it let her back straighten and felt good after the weight of her breasts on it. She’d told him that bit of information in early May when he’d taken her on a picnic. Since then, he always arranged her like this when they had a chance to lie down. “Baby? Talk to me.”
“Sure.” Jill gave a little mewing purr as she adjusted into his hold.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you any more than I had to.” Holdin’s arms tightened around her. His lips said the words into the top of head.
“I know. It was amazing.” Jill’s eyes didn’t open as he looked down at her face trying to read her.
“When you’re not sore, we’ll do it again. You’ll understand,” he continued.
“Holdin?” Jill interrupted him.
“Yes?” He held his breath. This was where she could try to reject any next time. That would be a problem between them. He didn’t want to force her on her second experience but he would if it was the only way she’d get past the pain of the first one. He’d not let her live with an expectation of pain with intimacy any longer than he had to.
“Shut up and hold me,” Jill directed calmly.
Holdin jerked in surprise when the words sank in. “What?”
“You heard me. Shut up. I love you, you love me. We made love and you want to do it again. That makes me one freaking sexy woman and I like it. I am possibly the most contented female since Eve. Don’t make me gag you to get some peace and quiet so I can enjoy this.”
Relief nearly choked him. A deep, burning smile unfolded in his soul and the primal male he’d just become aware of growled in satisfaction. Holdin bent his head so his cheek brushed the top of her head and relaxed. “No problem. Let me know when you’re done enjoying, baby. I have to take you back to town sometime.”
Chapter Nine
The air was not sweet with the smell of hay anymore but heavy with antiseptic reality. Those images would never fade into the soft focus time gave most events. For him they’d been razor sharp, carving into his heart each June with relentless clarity. The two of them had entered a door that day, one he’d never been able to close.
The gift of her submission in every way had taken up his world and made her the center of everything. Everything he became from that moment forward was about Jill. Even the things he was not were because Jill was in the world. He’d become her man. She’d become his universe.
He’d given her the necklace with her name spelled out in gold the next evening. The moment he clasped the chain at the back of her neck, he’d felt a calm satisfaction. Their relationship had changed and the necklace was an appropriate symbol, if only between them. He’d gently grasped her shoulders and turned her to survey the gift against her skin.
“Beautiful” was all Holdin could say as she looked up at him.
Jill’s fingers had naturally gone to the new ornament she wore. “Thank you, Holdin.” Her voice was slightly shaky as she smiled into his eyes. They were both moved by emotions deeper than either had expected.
“You’re mine, Jilly-girl. Don’t take it off,” Holdin instructed in a quiet growl.
“Never?” Jill asked, trying to inject a lighter mood.
Holdin’s tone remained calmly serious though his lips bowed in a pensive smile at her. “Never.”
They hadn’t discussed it again, but to his knowledge she’d never taken the thing off. That pleased him now. Tomorrow they would remove it before surgery.
In the distance a buzzer went off and then running feet rushed past the door. Close by someone was losing a battle with the mortal enemy. He heard codes being called and clipped voices barking instructions as the fight for life raged. So close. She shouldn’t be so close to the Reaper’s haunts. In this place, death knew every soul and it felt as if both darkness and light were here, eager to claim another convert. He wanted to gather her in his arms and run from this place.
A cold shiver ran down Holdin’s back, the passing of eternity perhaps? Whatever it was, it could keep on going. No one in this room was walking into the light or drifting down to the dark. The urge to bare his teeth and snarl at the shadows was primal. The predator within paced the perimeter of her bed, securing it. Guarding against unseen adversaries didn’t seem anything but logical to that elemental warrior who lived on this woman’s emotions. Her heart beat for both of them and nothing was taking her tonight.
If only such promises could be true. For Holdin there was no comfort in wishes. Fate was a cruel mistress who’d already amused herself in their lives. However, just because he’d suffered in the past, as had Jill and Drifter, there could be no expectation of mercy as fate rolled the dice on them once more.
Lifting his head from their clasped hands, he focused on her face. She was sleeping at last. Even though he knew there was nothing he could do here, the thought of leaving was not easy. He could no more guard her than he could take her illness into himself, no matter what the focused creature in his soul said.
Glancing at the clock, Holdin sighed. It didn’t matter what time it was. He had things to do that were about protecting her in the real world. He couldn’t fight the medical battle for her but there was one he would take care of. The world of stalking hit men and shadowy mobsters was getting a brand-new player.
At its core, every battle was a game of strategy. Strength was only a tool, a component used by the game planner. In this game there were no rules, no monitors and no holds bared. The men who ran the game were professionals and Holdin respected that. Respected it, but wasn’t half as intimidated as he probably should be. It was just a new arena, not really a new game to a born contender.
Kissing her hand as he reluctantly released it, Holdin slipped from the room. He needed to make a phone call and he didn’t want to do it in this building. Making his way out the maze of hallways, he headed for a side entrance. He didn’t think the press would be waiting for him at the front door yet but just to be sure he went out a service entrance and jogged around to his SUV.
The night air smelled fresh, even in the city, as it washed the hospital scent from his lungs in the short jog. It felt right to jog onto this new field of conflict. No moon lit the night sky and though the parking area was brightly illuminated, Holdin kept his head down to create a shadow over his features. He was aware of several suspicious cars parked near the hospital’s front door in the fire lane with engines idling. Looked as if the press were here.
Quickly entering the SUV, he pulled out and exited the hospital property. Two of the suspect cars followed soon after he’d fired up the SUV. Holdin made sure it wasn’t obvious he was hurrying, but headed out as if he were driving back to the ranch, not going to his place north of town.
Cold gold-green eyes watched in the rearview mirror as both cars gave up shortly after they recognized his route. No beat reporter wanted to drive out that far at this time of night. They could get a few hours of sleep and file a story in the morning. The news was in town, not at the ranch.
As soon as they were gone, Holdin snapped his cell into the dashboard holder, activated the hands-free on it and dialed a number. He continued driving in case there was a car he’d missed. That would be the car he most wanted to leave behind. The one not interested in reporting news. Even at this hour, the road was fairly busy and it would be easy for a vehicle to hide in the headlights behind him. But perhaps the traffic would make it more difficult to pick up a signal from his cell if they were trying to listen on some spy device.
A groggy voice answered on the fifth ring. “This b
etter be important.” The low growl wasn’t exactly friendly but even half asleep Matt Moholand was too well trained to use a name in greeting.
Holdin’s first year of college, Matt had been a junior and a defensive end. He’d been injured late in the season and it was clear pro sports were not in his future. So he’d finished a degree in criminal science and went into a career in law enforcement. For ten years Matt had been one of New York’s finest, making it to detective relatively young. Now he ran his own agency.
They hadn’t been buddies but Holdin had seen strength of character in the man. It was later as a public figure and professional athlete that Holdin found having a friend in Matt could be extremely helpful.
Their connection was not known to the public and almost untraceable since they’d never actually taken the field together. Matt had left the football program long before Holdin became a starter. But between them, the comfort of knowing where each other came from had allowed them an immediate level of trust later in life. Matt was the investigator Holdin had used when he discovered Jill Taylor wasn’t his girlfriend’s real name.
“Charge me extra for aggravation,” Holdin responded in tense tones, hoping Matt would read him and stop talking already. “It’s important.”
“You can fuckin’ afford it,” Matt grunted.
“Yeah. Here’s the deal. I need information on a guy. No one can know I’m asking. That’s crucial. The guy died fifteen years ago but I need to know who he was and who he associated with. Also how connected his associates were. Someone was chasing the guy when he died. Whoever that was, I’ll want to know.”
“The world is full of dead guys. Gonna give me a name? Location to start from?” Matt was obviously getting out of bed as he spoke. Holdin could hear the rustle of sheets and creak of furniture as the big man moved.
“Don’t write it down,” Holdin instructed. “If this crew gets a whiff of you snooping, you don’t want them to find a trail.”
“Now you have my attention,” Matt responded seriously.
“The dead guy was Stephan Capizzano, his wife, who is also deceased, was Margo. I don’t have a location, but start looking in New York City. Then try Chicago and Miami. I doubt he comes from L.A. or Las Vegas because he was headed west when he died. He wouldn’t be running to the guys chasing him. You won’t find an obituary on Stephan. He was using an alias when he died but you will on Margo. She died about thirty-three years ago.”
“Shit. Tell me this isn’t related to who I think it is,” Matt asked, referring to the last time he’d attempted to find someone for Holdin. The girl who’d turned out to be a ghost.
“It is,” Holdin confirmed.
“Well, you got trouble,” Matt snarled.
“Yeah, the last name is distinctive.”
“You found her? She gave you the info?” Matt wanted to know.
“She found me,” Holdin confirmed. “I can’t get more information right now but I need to know the facts and I need them right now. I want to know if the people who were involved with Capizzano are a threat.”
“Your little friend should know. Ask her.”
“I’m not in the mood, Matt,” Holdin snapped in frustration. His patience level was dangerously low and the sharp tongue of a New York native was difficult to appreciate at the moment. “I said I can’t get more info from her. I need to know if she’s in danger. If she is, so is my son. Get the picture?”
“Shit! Seriously?”
“Dead serious.”
“Hell, if she were in danger, she’d have been taken care of by now. I’m not being a smart-ass about that. The people you’re talking about don’t wait that long to take care of business.”
“Okay, I’ll explain. Fifteen years ago she and her father left town as I told you before. What I didn’t know was they had a car accident the next day. Stephan Capizzano was burned to death, no way to identify the body. She was pulled from the car but she had a head injury and was unconscious. So they were John and Jane Doe to the authorities. When she woke up, she had no memories. Not ‘til she sustained another head injury about a week ago.
“She came to find me with my son. Tomorrow she’s having brain surgery. There hasn’t been a lot of time to talk. Tonight she told me her real name and the fact she and her father were on the run from people she called ‘bad guys’. That’s why the alias and disappearing act. The other thing she said was that it wasn’t her father who was in trouble. She’d witnessed a crime by her father’s associates. I need to know if the bastards will still want her when it hits the papers that my former girlfriend is in Presby Dallas.”
“Damn. A son? You didn’t know?”
“Yes, and no, I didn’t. Damn it! Are you going to do it or not?”
“Stop being an ass. Course I am. Give a guy a minute to get over the shock. That story is pretty fucked up. You sure that’s your son and she really didn’t know who you were all this time?”
Holdin gritted his teeth as he grimaced. That question would probably tick him off every time he heard it. And it would be a while before he stopped hearing it. Still, it put more snarl in his voice. “I’m sure. Minute’s up. Get to work on the other.”
“I’ll talk at you later when I have something. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours now that I have a lead to work with.” Matt hung up.
Holdin pulled off at the next exit and turned around. There were no visible tails on him and he figured it was time to try to get a few hours’ sleep. He briefly considered going back to the hospital but knew he’d add tension to the room if he stayed in it with her. She’d feel it even as she slept and wouldn’t be able to sleep deeply. He didn’t have much hope of rest for himself but the least he could do was not infect Jill with his worrying.
When he was finally stretched out on the California king in his master bedroom, Holdin resignedly stacked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. His body was exhausted but not because of the physical demands of the day. Emotionally he’d left almost every bit of his soul on the ground. He wished he could feel empty. That would be a relief compared to what he knew would be a long night packed into the few hours of darkness left.
The fire in his soul burst though the control he’d been maintaining so carefully. He’d had her in his arms last night and tonight he didn’t know if he’d ever hold her again. White-hot shards of pain made him suck in a breath through clenched teeth as that thought cut through him. The suspicion that it was his fault sliced up what was left of his flesh. Had he been blindly selfish? Pushed her too hard for a physical commitment? The sweet release she’d given him could have been the price of her future.
Bitter guilt added an acrid taste to the torture. It wasn’t that he’d had no right to her. His possession of her was not the issue that was eating through his intestines like a parasite. Jill was his woman. What he couldn’t defend himself from was the knowledge that he could have confirmed the connection between them another way. He’d needed her surrender so badly, had it blinded him to her needs? What kind of bastard was he if he couldn’t put her needs before his own? He despised that sort of male. They were weak idiots who couldn’t control their own urges.
If he was one of those, even if it was only this one time, he’d senselessly used up his family’s future for a few short moments of possessive gratification. It made him no better than the male garbage who destroyed their families for drugs, gambling, whatever the addiction was they couldn’t resist. Jill was his addiction, he knew that. It had been his responsibility to protect her, even from himself. Perhaps mostly from himself.
He’d thought he’d endured pain in the past, it was nothing. Beyond the personal guilt was the knowledge that he was helpless to protect her, help her through tomorrow. That was agony on a new level. It cut him to the bone, denying his nature on every level. There wasn’t even the meager comfort that he was doing something. When she’d been lost, he’d at least been able to “do something” to help her find him.
He’d always been certain Jill w
as in the world. That she was part of the human fabric flowing around the globe, he’d felt it instinctively. Believed she was here, somewhere, because he had no other choice. And he’d been right. Tomorrow could possibly bring a new reality, one he didn’t know if he could deal with.
Holdin squeezed his eyes shut and willed the fates to smile on him one time. He’d make any deal they required, sacrifice at any altar they directed. Nothing was sacred except the life of this one woman and her son. He believed in the Christian God, but he knew there were forces in this world he didn’t understand.
Superstition was a part of every professional athlete. They saw to clearly that talent and desire were not enough to make a champion. Luck, fate, kismet, whatever one called it, was the fickle bitch who played with them. Perhaps the ancients had been right in the practice of worshipping many gods. Who knew?
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Into His Keeping Page 20