Pretty Baby

by Pretty Baby (NCP) (lit)

  His words kindled her fear. “Why? Why would you....”

  “I don’t know. But somehow I do. I guess it adds a little zest to the … well, you know … pursuit, I guess you’d call it. I find you’re fighting infuses me in a way I never knew it would.” His suggestive stare raked along her curves. “It seems I’ve become … addicted.”

  “Papa....” Seeing the look in his eyes, alarm rippled along her spine, and she began backing up. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t call me papa, Julita,” he said, his watery blue eyes studying her face. “I’m not your papa, you see.”

  “What?” she hissed incredulously.

  “What I mean … well, we’ve been away from each other for fifteen years. You see, any connection there was is broken. Maybe if things had been different … but, why speculate? We’re just two people … a man ... a woman….”

  Panic began to spread through her as she listened to his insane words and knew what they meant.

  “Don’t you realize what I could give you, Julita?” The hand with the drink lifted and gestured as if encompassing the world. “Anything in the world you want. Clothes, cars, minks, diamonds, jewels, trips around the world. Tell me. What is it you want?”

  She stepped backward, bumping into a chair. “I want a father! Can you give me that?”

  “Sweet Julita,” he said, laughing as if she’d made a joke. “Haven’t I made myself clear? That’s not even an option. Think about all that I’ve given you already. It seems only fair that you give something in return.” His eyes captured hers. “Understand?”

  “You promised you wouldn’t,” she whispered, trying to keep her fragile control.

  “Yes, I know,” he said, looking down into his drink, watching the ice dip and swirl. “But … well, I was feeling guilty.” Suddenly his eyes darkened, becoming lecherous. They moved upward and looked at her from beneath his tangled brows. “I don’t feel guilty anymore.”

  Her blood pounded. “P-Papa."

  “My name is Garret. We’re just Garret and Julita, my pet … that’s all. A man … a woman...,” Suddenly, in one move, he threw the drink, smashing it on the grate in front of the fireplace, then lunged at her, forcing himself on her.

  She struggled, but her energies were wasted against his granite stand. “Papa,” she yelled desperately, “Don’t, please!”

  “You want it, you little tramp, you know you do,” he said, his breathing harsh. All at once his cane tumbled to the floor, freeing both hands to tear at her clothes. “You’re willing enough to give it to that stupid cop.”

  Her stomach churned as she struggled, but his hands were like stone as he wrestled her down on the couch. “But you’re my father … we’re not supposed....”

  “I don’t care about rules, Julita, I only care about....” All at once, he saw her naked breast uncovered and quivering. He was like a starving man looking at a feast. He could taste it, and felt his tongue, pushing between his lips, ready to devour it. Just as he was about to cover her nipple with his mouth, he felt a strong arm around his neck, pulling him backward. All at once he was forced around by a hand grasping the front of his shirt and saw Shadoe’s burning green eyes, his hair unbound from the confines of the rubber band, and his hand coming forward in a backward slap. The blow sent Garret reeling to the floor.

  “You dirty old bastard!” Shadoe shouted. “You touch her once more and I’ll kill you! I swear it!”

  Julita had pulled herself up and was sitting on the couch crying while clutching at her torn clothes and holding them to her naked breasts. She was filled with humiliation, and not wanting to face Shadoe, she turned and ran.

  Shadoe turned, yelling, “Julita, are you all right?” Seeing her disappear around the door, he turned back to Garret, his nostrils flaring with anger. “You know, old man, maybe Lucretia’s not so crazy after all. I’m tempted to put you in the basement myself.”

  “Does this make you feel like a big man?” Garret spat, looking up at Shadoe from the floor. “Hitting a crippled old man that can’t defend himself?” He quickly grabbed at his cane, wielded it upward, then with a grimace on his face, he brought it down with all his strength. The thin spindle of wood broke on Shadoe’s husky shoulder before he could grab it.

  “You’ll have to do better than that, old man,” he said, throwing the two halves of the cane on the floor. “Get up,” he said, looking down at Garret.

  “You know I can’t … not without....”

  “You’re lying,” Shadoe said. “Come on, get up and show us how you can walk. Is that the way you get sympathy? Hobbling around on a cane you don’t need, feeding on the admiration of those who don’t know you? Have you told them how you molest your daughter? Have you told them how you made your money? Not through a national jewelry empire, but through cheating, underhanded stock investments,” he yelled. “Through the blood, sweat and tears of those weaker than you, that’s how! Did you tell them that, you old bastard? Do they know you for what you really are? How many times have you told the story, huh? Lying about everything, and painting yourself as a hero. Even sold the film rights to your story, didn’t you?” Shadoe’s face revealed disgust. “You make me sick.”

  Garret looked at him with narrowed eyes, hating him at that moment because he seemed to be able to see right through him. It was as if everything inside him … his darkest thoughts, the twisted workings of his mind, even the place where his black soul lay … were revealed through nothing but a thin veneer of flesh and skin. “This is an all out attack. I should bring charges against you for this,” Garret said as he struggled up by hanging on to the furniture.

  “Don’t waste your time. If I can persuade her, Julita will be bringing charges against you.” He looked at Garret with a smirk, his words digging into the old man’s pride. “Tell me, old man. Whose hero will you be then?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Lucretia waited on the beach for hours it seemed, watching the old mansion’s massive silhouette loom forebodingly against the deep blue of the night sky. She’d already sneaked in once, creeping around and stealthily grabbing the things she needed. She’d even tried the inside basement door, but found it locked. It surprised the hell out of her. Why would anyone lock an inside door now that the inn was empty? She didn’t have the first idea of where the keys were. The key rack behind the desk was empty of all keys, even the room keys. It was killing her to stay in the cave, but she had no choice. She’d tried to make it habitable with the things she’d taken so far, but could still feel the cold dampness creeping into her bones.

  The night they came, she hid out until dawn, waiting for them to leave, but they didn’t. Finally she crept around the house and found the shiny new Bentley and knew immediately who was there. Only he would drive around in a rich car like that. It didn’t take long to learn who he’d brought with him, either. It confused her at first, not knowing why they were there. Then it dawned on her that they were there waiting for her. All three of them. Knowing she’d escaped, they must have come here, waiting, the cop with them. Sure, that was it. The bastards at the hospital must have called, and they came down to trap her. Of course, it was a trap, she knew it.

  Well, I’m not going back … I’ll die first! she thought, standing there in the wind, feeling the wet kisses of the mist on her cheeks. She shivered as the fog continued to creep inland. She tugged on her sweater, watching the few lights that glowed in the darkness even though the hour was late. As the minutes crept by, the lights slowly became fuzzy in the gathering mist, but still she waited. All at once a light clicked off, then another. Hurry, she urged silently, and paced, rubbing her arms against the cold. The mist continued to thicken and swirl around her, making her restless. She was freezing in the wet cold, and just about to give up and go back to the cave when she looked up and saw the rest of the lights click off one by one.

  And then the last light went dark.

  Her feet began moving, slowly trudging along the sinking sand until she came to the incline ju
st this side of the bones. One foot after the other gained toeholds as she began climbing the steep wall. Once she had reached the top, she stood on the windswept ridge, silent for a moment, feeling for the key in her pocket that she’d found on the frame above the back door.

  * * * *

  Julita stood at her window looking out at the ocean. She thought she’d seen someone down on the beach, but looked around when a voice, steeped in husky sensuality, spoke to her.

  “Hey, I’m over here,” Shadoe said.

  She looked over at the bed and smiled, seeing Shadoe resting on his elbow.

  It was inevitable that the two of them would find a way to be together. What started out as the meeting of expressive eyes, hot, melting stares and the sensuous brushing of hands and bodies, had turned to burning kisses, heavy breathing, then at last, the bedroom. But Shadoe worried constantly that Garret would find out.

  Now, she turned and sat down on the side of the bed and allowed him to tug at her until she was lying beside him.

  “I know how you feel,” she whispered as she stroked his jaw. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  He laughed softly. “Sure, I can protect you from your father, but who’s going to protect you from me?”

  “So who wants to be protected from the big, handsome cop? Not me.”

  “I’m serious, Julita. I do everything I can to protect you from your father, and then I sneak into your room to do the very thing I order him not to. What the hell is wrong with this picture?”

  “You know the answer to that as well as I do. He’s my father, Shadoe. He’s treading on property he has no right to. It makes him criminal, maybe even insane since he’s part of the Van Dare family.”

  “You’re not afraid of me, are you? If I ever thought you were submitting to me out of fright I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “The only thing I’m afraid of is that you won’t make love to me,” she whispered, her tongue lightly licking his.

  “Mmmmm,” he said, tasting it with relish. “That wasn’t your feelings the other night. What happened?”

  She looked up into his glowing green eyes. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” she said, stroking his lips. “You’re not only my flashy beast, you’re my gallant warrior, my prince, my defender. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re as handsome as the very devil himself.” She smiled wickedly. “That’s enough to make any girl swoon.”

  He leaned down and took her lips with his own, and she wound her arms around his neck while breathing his name with a moan. As usual, his kisses were like a drug. The more he gave, the more she wanted. “Oh, God, Shadoe, I do love you.” Her eyes flew open immediately, and she tried to pull away from him, embarrassed.

  He pinned her to the bed. “Where the hell are you going? Especially after a statement like that.”

  “I … I’m sorry … it … it just seemed to slip out somehow.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Julita. Maybe you do love me … maybe I love you. We’ll find out someday.”

  Reclaiming her lips, he crushed her to him, and she parted her lips to receive his kiss, responding with a hot, new fervor. The delicious sensation he was awakening in her spread from her lips down through the dark tunnel that held her heart, and filled her groin. She moved beneath him, arching herself upward, feeling his delicious weight, his closeness, and his smell. His fragrance was that of the wilderness that his heritage represented. Just touching him, feeling him touch her, made her imagine the dark woods she loved, the wind, even the ground soft with leaves. With him she felt free … free to become wild like him. She felt his kisses spreading a scorching trail over her, and the heat he ignited caused her to spread her legs as he mounted her. Her hips cradled him, and she felt his hot, heavy arousal against her. His weight on her became forceful, his passion moved his lips from her neck to her breasts, causing tiny gasps to escape from her throat. And then he pushed her legs farther apart and the tip of his cock pressed her, parting her until she throbbed with desire. Then suddenly a low growl emerged from his throat and he began to move with savage intensity, pressing himself further in until he filled her. Her thighs rose, her legs encircled him, holding on as he rode her. Deep and hot, in, then out, pulling from her a naked desire that wanted more, and more. His hands cupped her buttocks, pulling them closer to him as he delved even deeper inside her. It took her breath away. Her hands splayed across his back, clinging, scratching, clutching. The two of them rolled, becoming tangled in the sheets. He became hot and demanding, the bed shook with the intensity of their jerking movements. Then suddenly the pleasure burst, pure and explosive. Lights exploded in her head … stars fell around her … heat infused her very being. Then she felt his lusty fountain let go, filling her to capacity. It was over, they had been satisfied, but still she wanted his touch, his nearness, his kisses, his whispers, his love … yes, she wanted his love.

  * * * *

  Later, while Shadoe slept, Julita saw the same dark figure standing on the ridge. She could hear the waves becoming savage, and shivered when the cold, wet wind keened through the cracks in the trembling window frame. She stared for a moment, seeing the wind buffet the figure about, then recognition widened her eyes. “Oh my God,” she gasped, pressing her fingers against her mouth. “It can’t be. She’s locked up.” When the dark figure began moving toward the mansion, it seemed to float in and out of the mist. It’s a ghost, she thought. It has to be. No one would be out on that ridge at this time of night. She turned away from the window and went to Shadoe to wake him. “It … it’s Lucretia….” she said, her words lapsing into their nervous stutter. “She’s out … she’s out … there,” she said, pointing to the window.

  Shadoe jumped up, but by the time they were both back at her window, the figure was gone. He turned her to him, and gently held her shoulders in his hands. “It was probably your imagination.”

  “But it … I know it … it was her. S-she was there … I saw....”

  “Julita, think about it for a moment. Lucretia is locked up for God’s sake. How would she have gotten here? And as for anyone else, the inn is closed, and too far from town for anyone to be walking along the ridge.”

  “Well … maybe it was a … I don’t know, a bum, or a homeless person.”

  “Would it make you feel better if I take a look around?”

  “If you would … I....”

  “It’s no problem,” he said as he turned. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Can I...?” she flinched, knowing she was using bad English. She’d been working on herself for so long, and had been doing so well, but she was scared, she wasn’t thinking about how to talk, walk, or carry herself. She had been dealt a jarring blow. Like seeing Lucretia … or at least thinking she’d seen her. Just the possibility was enough to turn her into a stumbling idiot for sure. Finally she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “M-may I come with you?”

  “No, you stay here. If I do find someone I don’t want you in any danger.” He turned to leave, then turned back and saw her huddling on the edge of her bed, the words she’d said, ringing in is ears.

  Oh, God, Shadoe, I do love you.

  She’d said it in a fit of passion, but it had made a stab of guilt spear through him, and had opened a whole floodgate of emotions … emotions he had chosen to ignore as long as possible. She looked like a goddess in the moonlight, but Shadoe could tell she was fragile, needy, probably the clinging-vine type.

  And he didn’t want it … didn’t need it.

  He didn’t like needy women. Soft, feminine, cuddly, sure. But not needy, and there was a difference. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered. “Why don’t you get in bed and try not to worry. It’s probably nothing.”

  “B-be careful.”

  Shadoe was moved by her concern, and smiled. But before he could turn and leave, Julita began sobbing out her fears while she hid her face in her hands. He rushed over and knelt before her, wiping the tears, stroking her hair, and trying to think of somethi
ng to say. But she pulled away, embarrassed. “It’s okay, Julita, I understand.” When she looked at him, tears glistened on her face. She wanted him to kiss her, and he swayed toward her, the next step a deep, sultry kiss. But he couldn’t. He kept hearing the same words over and over again.

  Oh, God, Shadoe, I do love you.

  Needy. She was too damned needy, he kept reminding himself. And she was young. Too young. She needed someone, but not a thirty-four-year old burned-out cop like him. Maybe he’d been a cad for taking her to bed when he knew he could never be what she wanted. Hell, she needed a kid in his twenties. Someone just starting out. Not someone that had been through the wringer like he had.

  Someone who could give her kids.

  There it was. He’d opened the wound again after years of pushing it down, ignoring it, hoping to forget, but you didn’t forget something like that.

  He’d been traveling in a jet. It was right after his captain had kicked him out of the office, and his nerves were tied up in knots. It was the middle of winter, so he’d decided to go someplace tropical to relax. The plane had to make an unscheduled stop in Miami, and it really ticked him off. He remembered thinking he’d paid big bucks for a nonstop flight, and intended to complain to high heaven about being delayed. So he sat in his seat seething for at least twenty minutes before the plane took off again. And wouldn’t you know it? A dark-eyed, bearded man had sneaked on, took the stewardesses hostage, then turned a gun on the passengers. The friggin’ plane had been hijacked by two bearded men who looked like Castro! Why the fuck was he always in the wrong place at the wrong time?

  “You!” the deeply accented man had called.

  Shadoe lifted his eyes and saw the dark-eyed man looking at him, waving his hand. “You mean me?”

  Dark-Eyes growled with impatience. “Yes!” he barked. “Come here!”

  Shadoe pulled himself up out of his seat and began walking, but it apparently wasn’t fast enough, because the other man grabbed his collar and practically dragged him up the aisle, throwing him against the wall of the plane.