“You’re so typical,” she said softly against my shirt. “All you think about is sex.”
“It’s not just sex with you. There’s so much more than that.”
“Is there?”
“Do you remember the first time I told you I loved you? Do you remember what we did that night?”
She sighed softly, her breath making my throat hurt with the swell of my heart.
“We sat out on that rusty fire escape, talking. You told me all about your parents, about your siblings, about the life your mother lived and how you wanted a life just like hers. And I told you about—”
“—the life you wanted. You said that you’d give anything to escape the old neighborhood and live like the rich people your mother cleaned houses for.”
“I did.” I kissed the top of her head. “I believed I could do it, too. When I held you in my arms, I really believed I could.”
“You did.”
Silence fell between us, and I could read her thoughts in the tension in her shoulders. I did do it, but I did it with Abigail, not her. And I didn’t give her the life I promised her that night. I didn’t give her children; I didn’t give her the big house and the fancy car. I didn’t take her away from the suffocating control of her parents, didn’t help her outshine her siblings. I didn’t give her all the things I’d promised I would.
I gave those things to Abigail.
“We have so much wasted time to make up for.”
She shook her head, carefully extracting herself from my touch. “We don’t have anything to make up for. We just have a future to build together.”
She crossed the room, slipping her light blazer from her shoulders as she did. The blazer fell from her fingertips, and then she began to fumble with the buttons on the front of her blouse. I was torn between the desire to watch her undress and the need to touch her. And then she disappeared around the corner. I followed, walking slowly, picking up her blazer as I rounded the corner, too. Her blouse was sitting on the stairs about halfway to the second floor. Her skirt at the landing.
I bit my lip, my heart racing as I found her bra hanging off of my bedroom doorknob.
I pushed open the door. It was dark—she hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. She was lounging on the bed, wearing nothing but the suit she was born in.
“Your turn,” she said with a small smile on her full lips.
I set her clothes on the chair, turning to study her as I kicked off my shoes.
“Are you sure? I’m not much of a stripper.”
“I’m positive.”
“And you think I’m obsessed with sex.”
“I haven’t been with anyone in ten years. If I’m a little obsessed, you’ll have to put it down to that.”
That little bit of information made me want to tear off my clothes and jump onto the bed. Her husband—whoever the fool was—didn’t understand what he’d given up with her.
I undressed slowly, starting with the buttons on my shirt. I let it fall open, pretending I had a six-pack hidden underneath instead of an undershirt and an older man’s chest. Then I tugged at my belt, unzipping my slacks as slowly as I could, one tooth at a time. She sat up, her finger in her mouth as she watched, the soft sucking sounds she was making causing my balls to tighten almost excruciatingly tight.
“Like this?”
She nodded, her eyes wide as they took in every inch.
I turned my back to her and allowed my jacket and shirt to fall down the length of my arms. Then my slacks, a little shimmy of my ass as they fell. I heard her gasp even though I couldn’t imagine the view was that great. I was a good-looking guy, but I was fifty. Gravity was not kind to me.
I turned as I stripped my undershirt and she was there, standing in front of me, her hands moving up my chest.
“You’re still so handsome.”
I shook my head, but she took my face in her hands and kissed me almost roughly.
I wanted to take my time, to make this night last forever. But there was something about her touch that made that almost impossible. I picked her up and carried her back to the bed, falling with her onto the mattress, our mouths connected, our hands exploring places that hadn’t been touched in a long time. I was inside of her before she could catch her breath, buried as deep as was physically possible, rocking in a slow, methodical rhythm that brought low moans from deep in her chest.
I forgot everything but Cassidy in those few moments. Forgot about Rachel and her accident, forgot that this was the room where I once lay beside Abigail, forgot how I broke Cassidy’s heart all those years ago. I forgot everything but how perfect this was, how I’d wanted nothing more than to have this again after I lost her.
“I love you,” I whispered in her ear after the throes of my orgasm passed.
She kissed my neck, her hands sliding slowly over my back. And then she cuddled against my chest and fell asleep. It was as close to heaven as I could imagine ever being.
Chapter 12
Cassidy
I locked myself in the bathroom and stared at the screen of my phone. There was just one word, but it was one word that made my chest hurt.
More.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream at the phone, at the faceless people who were holding my little girl. I wanted to call the police, wanted someone to come running to my rescue. I wanted…there was so much I wanted.
Brian was lying asleep just outside the door, the sound of his snores reminding me of his presence. I could go out there and tell him. I could show him the videos they sent me every few days of my little girl, tell him how much thinner she looked in the more recent ones, how her California tan was beginning to fade. I could tell him how scared I was that they were hurting her, that they were doing unspeakable things to my child while I tried to find more and more information about him. I could tell him that I lied when we ran into each other, that I was really back in Boston because they told me to come or they’d kill her. I could tell him that they wanted me to seduce him, to get close to him so that I could feed them all the information they needed.
I could.
But I wouldn’t.
What would happen to Brianna if I told him the truth?
I knew what would happen. The first video they sent me was my child lying on a dirty mattress, sound asleep, unaware of the impossibly large and sharp knife held to her throat.
If you don’t do as we ask, we will follow through on all threats.
As deeply as I was falling for Brian again, I couldn’t let anything happen to Brianna. She was my life. She was the only thing I had to hold onto after Brian chose Abigail over me. She was…she was everything. When this was all over, she was all I would have.
I had no idea why they wanted to hurt Brian so much, but I wasn’t stupid. I understood that he wasn’t just the CEO of MCorp. I’d seen things when we were together before, heard things. I knew he and Jack did more than buy and run businesses. And I knew that these people were aware of that, too. That was why they wanted to hurt him, had to be. At first I thought, well, he’s the CEO of a major corporation. Maybe that was why, maybe they wanted to hurt the company or steal his money. But then…it just didn’t make sense. There was more to it than that. It had to be about his criminal activities.
What always confused me was how they knew to take Brianna. Even if they knew about my connection to him—which was wildly unlikely—how could they know about hers? I never told my husband, never told Brian. No one knew that Sam wasn’t her father. His name was even on the birth certificate. Even Brianna didn’t know. She grew up believing what I’d told everyone else, that she was premature. I married Sam—he was my high school boyfriend, and he was more than willing to believe me when I came home and said that I’d missed him and didn’t want to face a future without him—when I was only three months into my pregnancy. When she was born, my mom gave me that look, but no one else questioned me. I guess they all assumed Sam and I couldn’t wait until our wedding night.
So h
ow did these people, these creeps who were holding my daughter against her will, know that I would be able to get close to Brian? How did they know I would be able to convince him to trust me? How did they know that we were once in a relationship?
Was it someone who knew him? Who knew us?
Was it Jack McGuire?
I was no longer sure whom I could trust. And this…I just wanted it over.
Reluctantly, I scrolled through my phone and found the report I’d found on Brian’s desk a few mornings ago. I’d snapped a picture of it, but I hadn’t forwarded it. I didn’t even know what it was, just that it came from Jack and that meant it was important. They could do what they would with it.
I forwarded it via text message.
“Cassidy?”
I flushed the toilet just to give myself an excuse for having been in the bathroom for so long. Brian was sitting up, his head in his hands when I walked back into the bedroom.
“You okay?”
He shrugged. “Killian says the police made an arrest this morning. Some old boyfriend of Rachel’s.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Takes the heat off of MCorp, I guess. At least, that’s what Killian thinks.”
“What do you think?”
He shrugged again even as I lay my hands on his shoulders and began to rub his shoulders.
“He also said the family has arranged to bury her in Connecticut.”
“That was quick.”
“Won’t be till later in the week, but…Killian doesn’t think I should go.”
“You’re a grown man, Brian. If you want to go, it’s your choice.”
He nodded slowly, glancing back at me. “I’ve fallen into this habit of checking with my kids about things that impact the family or their position in the company. After Abigail…”
I kissed his shoulder. “You’re a good father. But this is different. This is about you and what will allow you to look yourself in the mirror.”
He turned and pushed me against the mattress, his hand running over my breast as my nipple immediately puckered for his touch.
“If it was up to me, I’d lock myself in this room for the rest of my life,” he said as he brushed his lips against my throat. “But I have to make an appearance in Jack’s office in an hour. And, I suppose, you and I should pretend to put in a little work.”
“I suppose.”
“But that’s in an hour.”
He kissed me and my eyes slid shut. Once again I was transported back into that time, to that small, rented room where he first touched me. God, I loved him! There was just something about this touch…Sam had tried. But no one else would ever be able to make me feel this way.
I hated him for pushing me away, for choosing Abigail over me. I hated him for not allowing me to tell him that I was pregnant with his child. I hated him for making me live with that hallow, empty spot in the center of my soul for so long. And I hated him for touching me this way, for making me need this touch to feel whole, to feel like a complete human being.
I hated him because I loved him so much. I’d never stopped.
Chapter 13
Brian
The funeral was beautiful. There were flowers everywhere, wreaths next to her coffin, lilies on the altar, and roses decorating each of the pews. And pictures. Her parents had chosen to display pictures of their daughter from every stage of her life. There were pictures of a smiling Rachel when she was a small child, class pictures all through elementary and middle school. There were pictures of her wearing her sorority pin, the picture from her badge at the magazine, pictures of her with friends she’d never had the chance to introduce me to.
I was torn between empathy for her parents’ grief and my own grief. As much as I didn’t want it to hurt me, it did. Rachel had been in life briefly, but she had been a part of my life.
Cassidy stood beside me, ready to hold my hand or offer a pat of support on my shoulder. I appreciated it more than I could ever express to her. She’d been at my side constantly since this began, working with me at the office and sharing my bed at night. It was almost as if we’d never been separated, as though the last twenty years had never happened. But if that were true, then I wouldn’t be here, saying goodbye to the girl who woke me up to the needs I thought had become dormant long ago.
I’m sorry, Rachel. You deserved so much more.
“It’s so kind of you to be here,” Rachel’s mother said, as I took her hands to offer my condolences. “Rachel talked about you the last time we spoke. The article she did…she was so proud of it.”
“She was a very talented writer, Mrs. Thomas.”
She smiled through her tears. “She was. She would have won a Pulitzer one day.”
I just nodded. There was no point in breaking her heart with reality. Rachel knew how to put a sentence together, but her idea of hard hitting missed the mark horribly. She would have made a comfortable living at human-interest stories, no more than that. But she would have been happy with that, I think.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
I squeezed her hands and moved on, speaking to some uncle or cousin or whatever. Cassidy followed close behind me, whispering her own words of sympathy. We stepped out into the bright sunshine—which in itself seemed like something of a joke, a reminder that life goes on—and made our way to the car waiting at the curb.
“Mr. Callahan,” someone called from behind us. I turned and found myself looking at a young man with a digital recorder in his hand. “Can I ask you why you came to Ms. Thomas’ funeral?”
“She did a story on me and my company.”
“Yes, but she did a lot of stories, and no one else she wrote about showed up.”
“That’s a pity. Shows you how disrespectful people can be these days.”
I directed Cassidy into the car, about to slide in myself when the reporter asked, “Did you have a relationship with Ms. Thomas? Or with the man accused of killing her?”
I glanced back. “She did a story on me. She was a nice girl.”
“She was beautiful.”
“A lot of women are beautiful.”
I slid into the car, grudgingly admitting to myself that Killian might have been right. It might raise a few too many eyebrows, my coming here today. But I was glad I’d done it. I could say goodbye to Rachel and look to the future. At my age, the future wasn’t as infinite as it was when I was twenty. The sense of urgency was a little more acute.
“You okay?”
Cassidy slid her hand into mine. I pulled her close, slipping my arm around her shoulders.
“I’m good as long as you’re here.”
***
The flight back to Boston wasn’t long, less than an hour. We had a few drinks, then stopped for dinner downtown before heading to the house. All I was thinking about was crawling under the blankets and curling up with Cassidy. I was pretty sure she had the same thoughts as she nodded off on my shoulder before we reached the front door. But things never go as planned around me.
We stepped through the front doors of the house and nearly tripped over a stack of bags sitting on the marble floor.
“Someone here?” I called, as Cassidy looked up at me with the same question in her eyes.
“Hey, Pops.”
Kevin, the fourth of my children, stepped into the entryway, a crooked grin on his handsome face. Kevin was twelve when Abigail brought him home, a precocious little man who thought he could take care of himself, but he was smart enough to appreciate the warmth of a clean bed and three square meals in his tummy each day. He told me outright that first night that he only planned on staying until he was old enough to get a job. He ended up graduating as valedictorian and attending Stanford University before taking a year to study art in Paris. He wanted to be the next Cézanne.
“Kevin…”
I went to him and pulled him into my arms. He was taller than I was, his head bare, and his dark flesh warm. He had the most intense caramel-colored eyes, eyes that ha
d always managed to bring out the best in me even on my darkest days. If he hadn’t been here the day we buried Abigail, I might have completely melted down. Of all my children, Kevin was the one I considered my pal as much as my child.
“When did you get home?”
“Just a few minutes ago. I would have called, but it would have ruined the surprise.”
I touched his face, so pleased that I laughed, unable to hold it back.
“What a wonderful ending to a trying day!”
Kevin smiled again. “I was hoping you’d be pleased.” Then he stepped around me, offering his hand to Cassidy. “I’m Kevin Callahan, son number four.”
“Cassidy Myers,” she said, politely—even as curiosity danced bright in her eyes.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
There was curiosity in Kevin, too, but I was more interested in hearing about his travels than explaining my personal relationships. I went into the sitting room and poured everyone a glass of whiskey, passing them around before joining Cassidy on the couch.
“Do your brothers know you’re back in town?”
“Nope. I didn’t tell a soul.”
“But I thought the program didn’t end for another few weeks.”
“I got done early.”
Kevin sipped from his drink, his eyes everywhere but on mine. I knew my son. I knew he was hiding something. He’d gotten kicked out.
“What happened?”
He turned to Cassidy.
“You must be Pops’ new assistant. Killian told me how beautiful you were.”
Cassidy’s eyes jumped to mine, even as a slow blush burned over her high cheekbones.
“I am. His assistant.”
“He needed someone better than that old, crabby lady he had before. She used to bark at me when I called. Quite literally. Like one of those little dogs, those Chihuahuas.”
Cassidy giggled. “I’m sorry I never met her.”
“You wouldn’t have liked her. And she wouldn’t have liked you simply because she never liked anyone.”
“Makes it difficult to do such a job then, don’t you think?”
DOMINIC (Dragon Security Book 3) Page 39