Trust Me (The Donovan Family Book 4)

by Margaret Watson

  "I think this is early," she said as she opened it. "But we can take a look."

  She flipped through the pages quickly, but he saw photos of a smiling man and a woman and two laughing young girls. Raine had white-blond hair and a gap-toothed grin. Genie had darker blond braids and was usually leaning against her older sister.

  He touched the picture of skinny, happy Raine. She looked as if the camera had caught her in a rare quiet moment. "I wish I had known that happy kid."

  Her fingers trailed lightly down his arm, making the hairs rise. "I wish I'd known you then, too."

  He twined their hands together as she turned the page.

  There were photos inside a home, at a beach he recognized as North Avenue Beach on Lake Michigan. There were even a few pictures at Beatrice Talbott's house.

  Nobody was smiling in those photos.

  They got to the end of the album far more quickly that Connor liked. He wanted to study the photos of young Raine. See if there were any hints of the remarkable woman she'd become.

  Maybe they'd have time, after this case was over, to look at her albums again.

  Pleasure settled in his chest at the thought. He wanted to know everything about her. Look at all the family photos she had, starting when she was a baby.

  Really, Donovan? You want to know what she looked like as a baby?

  He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought. He was turning into a sap. Police officers were not saps.

  Raine stood up and slid the album back into its spot on the bookcase, then pulled out the next one. Seventeen years ago. She'd been ten.

  They moved more slowly through this album, but there were no pictures of a ring or a Tiffany's box.

  There were none in the next album, either.

  The worry in her eyes mirrored what he was sure she saw in his. "I'll get the next one," she said as she stood up. "I could be wrong about how old I was. It was a long time ago."

  And a lot had happened since she was eleven years old. Her parents had died. She and Genie had moved in with Beatrice. Genie had married Peter. Been murdered.

  Her fingers trembled a little as she opened the next album. He grabbed her hand and she looked up at him, startled.

  "Don't look so worried," he said. "It's okay if there aren't any pictures. We can probably still get the information from Tiffany's. It just might take a little longer."

  She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay." She stared down at the red cover. Everything else about the album was the same – same tiny sticker with the year, same yellowed edges to the pages. Same family, older now.

  Raine turned the pages faster this time. Her jaw clenched and her fingers trembled as they got closer to the end of the album.

  She stopped at the second to the last page. There it was. A grinning Raine holding up the distinctive blue Tiffany's box. Her mother modeling a ring on her right hand for the camera.

  "You found it," he said, grabbing her into a hug. He closed his eyes as everything inside of him fell into place. Raine. In his arms. Her scent surrounding him. Home.

  She wrapped one hand around his shoulders and hung on. With the other, she clutched the photo album to her chest. Protecting it, as if it was precious.

  When he found himself nuzzling her neck, nipping at the tender skin behind her ear, he eased away from her. Not the time to allow himself to be distracted.

  "Let's take a look at that photo. Maybe it has a date stamp on it."

  "Good idea," she said, her arm curling around his as if she needed to be touching him. Her fingers shook as she slid the picture out of the plastic sleeve.

  Both of them stared as she turned the photo over. One of them gasped. He was pretty sure it was Raine.

  There in the corner was a date in faded yellow numbers. July 18. The year Raine would have been twelve. The year before her parents were killed.

  He glanced at Raine, who was staring at the photo, her mouth trembling.

  None of them had known it was the last birthday her mother would celebrate.

  No one knew how much time they had left.

  He yanked her against him and buried his face in her hair. Drank in the scent of oranges and Raine. Connor would kill Northrup before he let the bastard take Raine away from him.

  After a long moment, he stood up. "I'm going out to my car to get some evidence bags. Lock the door behind me."

  She stood up and glanced into the courtyard, dusky with twilight. "You be careful, too."

  "Always, babe."

  As he stepped outside, Connor glanced up at Raine's window. She was framed in the golden light from her apartment, watching him. He lifted a hand, and she smiled as she waved back.

  He walked through the courtyard, the air enveloping him in the distinctive softness of a Chicago summer night. The kind where the sky was clear, the humidity was low and the temperature hovered in the low 70's. The kind of rare, perfect night that made you want to walk along the lakefront, your arm around a beautiful woman.

  He and Raine wouldn't be walking anywhere at night until Northrup was in jail. And Raine wouldn't be going anywhere alone, even in daylight.

  As he stepped through the gate and walked to his car, he scanned the street. Cars lined both sides. The front yards of the houses and two-flats on this block were all landscaped. They looked good, but all those bushes and shrubs could hide a crouching man.

  The back of his neck itched, and he never ignored the sensation. It had saved his life more than once.

  This time, though, he wasn't concerned about himself. This time, it was all about Raine.

  He searched for a white van like the one he'd seen the other night. The plumber's van with stolen plates and a random number on the side.

  Nothing even close.

  Northrup probably wasn't nearby tonight. He'd stay at Beatrice's party as long as possible. Then he'd take Meredith Pullen home. Fuck her while she was wearing that pendant.

  But the air was heavier out here. Still. As if it waited.

  Leaves rustled in the shrubbery to his left, and his hand hovered over his gun as he spun to look. A few moments later, a rabbit hopped into view, stopping to chew on some hostas.

  Connor let his hand drop away as he headed toward his car. A whiff of cigarette smoke drifted his way, and he spotted a couple turning the corner in front of him.

  His footsteps slowed, and his fingers itched. But it was a couple of kids in their early twenties, holding hands as they walked, and Connor relaxed.

  When he got to his car, he popped the trunk but kept his back to the vehicle as he scanned the street. He'd bet a lot of money that Northrup knew his car. Asshole probably knew a whole lot about him. Just like he knew way too much about Raine.

  Studying the street around him, he fumbled for the evidence bags he kept in the trunk. After a few moments, he felt the slippery plastic beneath his fingers. He grabbed a handful and slammed the truck closed.

  He re-locked the car and headed back to Raine's apartment. She'd given him her keys, so he was in front of her door quickly.

  He knocked before he unlocked it. Raine was on the couch, looking at one of the photo albums.

  She turned and smiled at him over her shoulder, and it felt as if a mule had kicked him in the chest. The same stunned 'oomph' that he'd gotten every time he saw her lately.

  Trying to regain his composure, he held up the fistful of plastic bags. "Got them. Let's bag that photo."

  A few hours later, it had fallen completely dark. They were watching a detective show on television, and Connor was biting his tongue to keep from pointing out all the mistakes in the script.

  Raine was blinking too frequently, as if struggling to stay awake. Finally he squeezed her knee. "Go to bed."

  She started, as if she'd been almost asleep. Then she looked at him, her gaze uncertain. "I guess I should." She studied her hands, not meeting his gaze. "Thank you again for going to that party with me." She swallowed. "I don't know how I would have gotten through that if you h
adn't been there."

  "You would have gotten through it just fine. But I'm glad I was there."

  "What time are you going to pick me up for your mother's dinner tomorrow?" she asked, pleating her dress as she watched him.

  He frowned. "I'm not picking you up. I'm going to be right here." He leaned closer and framed her face with his hands. "I'm not going anywhere, Raine. I'm not leaving. You understand?"

  She stared at him for a long moment, and finally nodded. It was painful to look at the tiny glimmer of hope in her expression. "Yeah," she finally whispered.

  "You're stuck with me." He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. "I'm not going to let Northrup get anywhere near you. I'll kill him myself if he tries to hurt you."

  She sucked in a sharp breath. "You can't do that," she said. Color flooded her face. "You'd lose your job. Get arrested. And it would be my fault."

  "No. It would be Northrup's fault. But nothing is going to happen. Because I'm going to be right here. On the couch." He let her go, his fingers trailing over her silky soft skin before they dropped away. "I wouldn't sleep if I knew you were alone."

  He followed her gaze to the bedroom door, and his fingers tightened on her knee. "I'm sleeping on the couch. You've had an emotional day, and we haven't talked about last night. But I'm staying."

  "Okay," she said slowly. She exhaled and relaxed into the couch. "It's selfish of me, but I'm glad you're staying. Peter...he scared me today."

  Bastard. No one got to scare Raine. "Like I said before – you're stuck with me. So go get ready for bed. Toss me a blanket and a pillow. I'll be fine out here."

  Raine stood, but didn't move toward her bedroom. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. "Thank you, Connor," she said into his chest.

  She clung for a long minute, then eased away from him and walked into her bedroom. She returned in a minute with an armful of pillow and blankets. "I'll see you in the morning."

  "I'll be here."

  She smiled. "Yeah. I get it. You're sticking." She trailed her fingers over his jaw, making him shiver, then reached up and brushed her mouth over his. "I'll see you in the morning."

  ***

  A strangled cry made him bolt upright in the middle of the night. He was disoriented for a moment, scanning the dark, unfamiliar room. Then the light from the courtyard filtered in through the blinds, and he recognized Raine's apartment.

  Another cry that sounded like 'no' drifted from Raine's bedroom. He heard the sheets rustle, as if she was thrashing on the bed. He stood up and pulled on his pants, then hurried into her room.

  A beam of moonlight striped her bed, cutting across her arms and her abdomen. Her tee-shirt had risen up as she slept, and her abdomen was pearly in the milky light. She was clenching and unclenching her fists, and her legs were moving restlessly.

  "Hey, babe," he said, bending over her. He brushed his hand over her face and neck. Her skin was cold and clammy, and she was shivering. "Raine, wake up."

  "No," she cried again. "Don't. Don't hurt her."

  Connor sat on the edge of the bed and tentatively smoothed his hands down her arms. He'd never woken someone from a nightmare. He didn't want to startle her. Scare her even more. "Wake up, Raine. You're okay. You're dreaming."

  Her eyes opened and she shot up in the bed. Her chest rose and fell as she panted, and he forced himself to focus on her face and not on her breasts, visible in the moonlight through the tissue-thin tee shirt.

  "Hey," he said quietly. "Raine? Are you awake?"

  She jerked her head toward him, looking puzzled. "Connor?"

  "Yeah. It's me. You're safe." He brushed her hair away from her face. "What were you dreaming?"

  She frowned. "Peter, I think," she said slowly. "Genie, too. I think he was hurting her."

  "You have nightmares a lot?"

  She slumped against the headboard. "If I do, I don't remember them in the morning."

  She shivered, and he folded her against him. As he rubbed her back, he touched the bare skin beneath her tee shirt. It was ice cold. "You're chilled," he murmured into her hair.

  She shivered again. "Better now," she said, her voice muffled against his tee-shirt-clad chest. "You're warm."

  He held her until the shivering stopped and her breathing slowed. Her body was warm and supple against him, and she snuggled against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. As if she never wanted to let him go.

  When he felt himself responding to her closeness, he eased her away and tucked her beneath the sheet. "You okay to sleep?" he asked.

  "Yeah," she said, curling on her side to face him. "Thank you."

  "Sleep tight," he said, brushing a last kiss over her hair.

  He was almost to the door when her voice stopped him.

  "Connor? Stay with me. Please?"

  Chapter 27

  A faint stream of light trickled into the bedroom from the gas lamps in the courtyard. It wasn't much, but it was enough for her to see Connor freeze. Turn slowly to face her.

  "I'm not going anywhere," he finally said. "I already told you that."

  Was he deliberately misunderstanding her? She lifted herself onto one elbow. "I know that. But I don't want you to sleep on the couch. Please?"

  She'd never begged a man for anything, but she'd beg Connor. She needed him with her. Holding her against him. Keeping the nightmares at bay.

  Finally he moved to the edge of the bed. "You sure, Raine?"

  She'd never been more sure of anything. "Yes." She scooted over to give him the right side of the bed. The same side he'd slept on that first night. "I just want you to hold me."

  In the dim light, she saw his expression soften. He shucked off his jeans and slid beneath the sheets, holding her gaze. Then he reached out and drew her against him.

  The hard planes of his chest and abdomen fit perfectly against her softer curves. She threw an arm over his chest, twisting her fingers into the soft material of his tee shirt. Then she rested her head on his biceps and finally relaxed.

  "Go to sleep," he murmured in the darkness. He stroked his hand down her back, then up, over and over. His breathing was steady, a companion rhythm to her heartbeat. Reminding her he wasn't leaving. That if she had another nightmare, Connor would be there when she woke up.

  Her eyes fluttered closed. She snuggled closer, and her hand slipped away from his shirt as she tumbled into sleep.

  ***

  The bed shifted, startling Raine awake. She blinked at the sunlight streaming in through the fluttering curtains and turned to find her clock.

  Eight A.M. Late for school!

  She threw off the sheet and blanket before she remembered that it was Sunday. No school. No rush.

  Sinking onto her pillow, she rolled over and into Connor's back. The night before flooded back – her nightmare, Connor waking her. Asking him to stay.

  She'd slept soundly the rest of the night.

  His chest expanded and contracted regularly. Evenly. He was still asleep.

  Raine propped herself on one elbow to peer over his shoulder. A lock of hair tumbled over his forehead, and his thick black lashes made dark crescents beneath his eyes. Stubble darkened his cheeks, and she reached out to touch it. She wanted to feel its rasp against her palm. Its scrape along her skin.

  She drew her hand away. She didn't want to wake him yet. It felt right to find him sleeping beside her, as if they were two halves of a whole. She needed a few minutes to savor his presence. To revel in the rightness of it. The wonder of its truth.

  In the warm breeze blowing in her window, she savored his presence beside her. Drank in every detail. Tried to memorize exactly how he looked when he was sleeping, all his defenses down.

  When her elbow began to ache, she lay down again and snuggled into him, pressing her face into his nape. He smelled of sleep and fabric softener.

  Her breasts tightened as desire stirred low in her belly. She wanted to be surrounded by him. Sheltered by his arms. Tasting him
as she kissed him. Touching him until she'd learned the geography of his body.

  She nuzzled into Connor's neck and slid one leg between his. Her breasts flattened against his back, and she moved closer. She didn't want to sleep anymore.

  She didn't want him to sleep anymore, either.

  Wriggling until her hips rocked against his ass, she slid her hand beneath his tee shirt and began to explore. Even in sleep, his abdomen was solid. She trailed her fingers over the ridges of his six-pack, moved lower where the dark hairs on his belly tickled her palm.

  She followed them on her journey south until she reached the waistband of his boxers. Dawdled there for a moment, then reached lower and palmed the thickness beneath the soft fabric.

  She stroked him slowly, feeling him grow even harder beneath her inquisitive fingers. Need flashed through her, and she reached for the hem of her shirt to yank it off.

  Suddenly his hand was on top of hers, pressing her fingers more tightly against him. "Hey, babe." His voice was thick with sleep. "What'cha doin?"

  She kissed his back, then rubbed her nose against his shirt, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. "What does it feel like I'm doing?"

  He rolled over and his lids fluttered open. He stared at her with his bedroom eyes and desire rolled through her, rich and sweet.

  "Good stuff. I like it."

  "Yeah?" She slid on top of him, lining her body up with his, bending over him and letting her tee shirt gape away from her chest. "You want to show me how much?"

  "Oh, yeah." He gripped her hips and held her still as he stared down her shirt. Her nipples pebbled beneath his gaze, and heat flashed through her.

  His mouth trailed down her throat to the neck of the tee, and he nuzzled beneath it. Suddenly he let go of her hips and whipped the tee shirt over her head. "This has to go."

  The cool air caressed her breasts, hardening her nipples even more, and she made a low, rough sound. She tried to grab his shirt and pull it off, too, but before she could, he tugged at her panties.