“I forgot how hard you come,” he murmured. “Now come for me again.”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Please.”
He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance. “Are you still on the pill?”
“Yes, yes,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “Just fuck me, Farrell. I need you.”
He rubbed his cock against her clit, relishing the way she squirmed against the big head, and slid it through her folds, making sure it was good and wet. Then he lifted her hips off the bed and drove into her so hard a shudder ran through him.
He paused for a few seconds when he was buried inside her, closing his eyes, memorizing the feel of her hot pussy around the flesh of his cock. He dragged his cock out of her, every inch of her sweetness a kind of torture he never wanted to end. When he was almost all the way out he drove in again.
“Oh, god…” she said. “I need you to fuck me hard. I need you to come inside me.”
Her words snapped what little was left of his self control. He pushed all the way into her and pulled out, driving again and again, the friction building between them as they rode the waves of their bliss. He reached down, rubbed her clit while he sank into her, the inner walls of her pussy growing tighter as she reached for another orgasm. Their movements were frantic, Jenna lifting her hips to meet his thrusts as he lifted her legs onto his shoulder so he could go deeper, harder. She was close now, clenching him so hard he could hardly get in and out of her.
“You’re going to come for me again, aren't you, Jenna?”
“Yes,” she gasped, opening her eyes to look at him. “Come with me. Give it all to me.”
“You already have it all, Jenna.”
It was true in more ways than one, and she rocked her hips against him as she came again, this time looking into his eyes until he jumped off the ledge with her, his body trembling as he poured into her, still thrusting, still driving, until she was limp underneath him.
He lay next to her and pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as her breathing returned to normal. She was his. Had always been his. And now that he had her back, he would kill anyone who tried to take her from him.
He kissed her head, spoke against her hair. “Never leave me again.”
24
Farrell pulled in front of the bank and stopped the car. He took off his sunglasses and looked over at her, his gaze familiar and warm. Their night together had banished the coldness between them. Now it was like no time had passed since they were last together.
Except time had passed. And Jenna had a secret. She knew she had to tell Farrell about Lily, even wanted to tell him about her. But she was still trying to figure out how to go about it, to say nothing about how she would explain him to Lily.
He reached out, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, laid his hand against her cheek. “You’re sure about this?”
She nodded. “I need to know.”
“I understand,” he said. “And whatever it is, it will be okay. I promise.”
For the first time in a long time, she believed it was true. That Farrell would make it true if necessary.
She turned her face into his hand, kissed his palm. He smiled, and for a minute she felt like she might not be able to breathe. She’d forgotten the power of Farrell’s smile. The way it warmed her from the inside out.
“Let’s go then,” he finally said.
He came around to her side to open the door, then took her hand and led her to the bank. They were greeted by the same man who’d helped them the day before. Was it only yesterday when she’d been afraid to be alone with Farrell? When she’d actually tried to convince herself she wanted to escape him? Impossible.
He led them into Arturo’s office where they were greeted like old friends. Arturo asked for the key card, then tapped on his computer before asking her a few simple questions: name on the account, birthdate, address of record. That one she got wrong at first, assuming her father had used their home address. He hadn’t, and she’d had to look up the address of the Institute on her phone, the only other address she could think of that he might have used. She’d been right, but she didn’t have time to wonder why he’d used his work address. Arturo wasn’t through verifying her access to the account.
“And are you a signatory?” he asked.
Jenna blinked. “A signatory?”
“Only signatories are allowed access to each safe deposit box,” he said.
“I… I don’t think so,” she said. “But I have the key card…”
Farrell squeezed her hand.
Arturo smiled. “The key card is only one of several layers of security in place to insure the privacy of our clients.”
“Of course,” she said. She should have been disappointed. Instead she felt a twinge of hope. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to gain access to the safe deposit box after all. In many ways, it would be easier. She could walk away without wondering if she’d done the right thing. Without exposing herself to a secret she might be better off not knowing.
“Let’s check, shall we?” Arturo asked with a smile. “You are your father’s daughter, after all. May I have your identification?”
She handed over her passport and drew in a breath as he refocused on his computer screen.
“Ah!” he said. “Here you are: Jenna Carver. Date of birth is a match.” He met her eyes. “Clearly your father was well prepared.”
Things were getting stranger and stranger.
“Is there anyone else on the account?” Jenna asked. “A… Kate Carver, maybe? That’s my sister.”
Arturo returned his gaze to the screen. “I’m afraid not. I only have John and Jenna Carver.”
“I don’t understand…” Her brain was struggling to make sense of it all. Her father’s sudden death. The key card and passport found in his jacket, leading her to this bank in Madrid, a country to which, as far as Kate knew, her father had no ties. The revelation that he’d expected her to come looking for answers. That he’d paved the way for her to do so.
None of it made sense, but she was prevented from thinking about it further when Arturo stood. “Please, follow me.”
They stood, and Arturo smiled at Farrell. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here, Mr….”
“I go where she goes,” Farrell said without filling in the blank.
“That’s simply not possible,” Arturo said. “Miss Carver is the only one listed on the account.”
Farrell tightened next to her, and she put a hand on his arm, hurrying to stop him before he told Arturo he’d shoot his way into the vault with her if necessary. “It’s all right. I’ll be fine.”
He looked down at her, a protective fire in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
“Feel free to wait in the lobby,” Arturo said, gesturing to his office door.
Farrell went grudgingly, every tense step an indication that he was ready to fight his way in if Jenna said the word.
“Shall we?” Arturo asked her.
She nodded, then followed him out of the room and up a set of marble stairs to the second floor. They continued down a long hall to a wooden door on the right. Next to it, a control panel was backlit in red.
Arturo removed a key card — almost identical to the one she’d found in her father’s jacket — from his pocket. When he inserted it into a slot on the control panel, the light around it turned green. A faint beep sounded from inside the door, followed by a soft click. Arturo pushed open the door, and Jenna stepped behind him into a long room lined with metal boxes.
“Here we are.” He held out his hand. “May I?”
She handed him the key card. He consulted the numbers and walked to the far end of the room, scanning the rows of boxes until he found what he was looking for.
“This is the one,” he said. “Simply insert your card into the slot and pull out the box. I’ll leave you alone.”
He stepped out of the room, and Jenna was sealed in it
s silence. She wondered if the room was soundproofed. The rest of the world seemed a million miles away.
She waited for the door to shut behind him before walking to the row of boxes he’d indicated at one end of the room. Holding up her father’s key card, she scanned the numbers on the boxes until she found its match. The discovery was accompanied by a strange sense of euphoria, as if she’d finally discovered a difficult answer to a troublesome puzzle.
She hesitated, then put the card in the slot. There was another beep and click, and when she tugged on the little brass handle, the box slid out of the wall. Her pulse was racing, sweat breaking out on her upper lip.
No turning back now.
She took the box to the table at the center of the room and lifted the lid, holding her breath. When its contents were exposed, she could only stare. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the thick stack of papers inside the long rectangular box.
She lifted them out, surprised to find it was a rather big bundle, at least two inches thick. She scanned the words on the top sheet, her eyes catching on certain words and phrases.
* * *
… marburgvirions contain non-infectious, linear nonsegmented, single-stranded RNA genomes of negative polarity that possesses inverse-complementary 3' and 5' termini…
* * *
NPC1 cholesterol transporter protein appears to be essential for infection…
* * *
… exhibit symptoms within ten days of exposure.
* * *
It was like reading another language, and she flipped through the pages, hoping for a clearer explanation. It didn’t help. It was all gibberish, punctuated by graphs and statistics that did nothing to clarify what she was holding.
“Miss Carver.” She jumped a little, turning to look at Arturo standing in the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you need more time?”
“Am I allowed to take these?” she asked.
“You have a key. Anything you find is yours to do with as you see fit.”
She rolled them into a thick tube and headed for the door, her mind already trying to work the puzzle of her father’s secret. Arturo led her to the lobby where Farrell was pacing. He strode toward her and took her arm as soon as he spotted her. Then he led her out the door.
She was glad he didn’t say anything right away. She’d come to Madrid for answers. Instead she’d only found more questions.
25
“None of this makes sense,” she said, pacing the floor of the suite, flipping through the pages yet again. “Why would my father have this stuff? And why would he come here to hide it?”
She’d filled Farrell in on the way back to the hotel. He’d listened in silence, his expression thoughtful. She had to get back to London, but she needed time to figure out what she’d found before she could wrap her head around the minutiae of packing her things, making the trip to the airport, figuring out how to tell Farrell about Lily.
Farrell crossed the room, handing her a drink he’d mixed from the lavish bar inside a cabinet in the living room. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.” She took it from him, and he nodded at the papers in her hand. “May I?”
She gave them to him, relieved to have them out of her hands. She still had no idea what the documents meant, but it was obvious her father wasn’t supposed to have them.
And that meant she probably wasn’t supposed to have them either.
She sipped at the drink while Farrell sat on the edge of the sofa and read. Ten minutes later, he looked up. “I’m no scientist, but it’s pretty clear this is data on a research experiment — a virology experiment, to be exact.”
“Virology? As in the study of viruses?”
“That’s the one,” he said, tossing the papers on the coffee table.
“Why would my father have something like that?” She narrowed her eyes. “And how do you know that?”
“My father was a virologist.” He shrugged a little, like it was as commonplace as having a father who was a janitor. Like he hadn’t just revealed the first bit of information about his past that he’d ever offered her.
“Your father was a scientist?” she asked.
He nodded. “It was never really my thing, but I saw enough research data over the years to know what that is.”
She was floundering to process the seemingly disparate pieces information.
Farrell’s father hadn’t been a criminal or a street thug, but a highly educated man.
Somehow Farrell had found his way from that life to the one he led now.
Her father had somehow gotten his hands on data related to a virology study — the very last thing he would have been interested in — and hidden it in Madrid for her to find.
“It has something to do with the Stafford Institute, doesn’t it?” she asked Farrell. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“I think that’s the most likely possibility,” he said. “Although correlation doesn’t equal causation.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“The fact that your father worked for a research institute doesn’t necessarily mean the research data is from Stafford. But I agree that it’s worth looking into.”
She walked to the balcony, her drink still in hand, and stared through the trees. A moment later, she felt Farrell behind her. Turning her around, he gently took the glass from her hand and rubbed her arms.
“Why don’t you let me dig into it a little more?” he asked. “I have… resources at my disposal that few people have.”
She looked into his eyes, wanting to sink into the comfort of his embrace and the strong arms that felt like they could shield her from anything. “You would do that for me?”
His eyes darkened, and he held her head in his hands. “I would do that and so much more for you, Jenna.”
He claimed her mouth hard and fast, as if wanting to prove the truth of his words. His tongue traced her lower lip, plunged into the depths of her mouth. It was like setting a match to dry timber, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his as it remembered their passion from the night before. She was all instinct now, her only motivation to feel Farrell inside her again, to let him complete her the way only he could.
He lifted her into his arms and walking back into the living room. She nibbled at his bottom lip, then looked up when she realized they were going to her room.
“Are you hoping to christen another bed?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes as she teased him.
He entered the room, set her gently on the bed. “Not just yet.” He pulled off her shoes and lifted her legs onto the bed. Her passion began to cool as he pulled the covers up around her shoulders. “At the moment I’m hoping to put you to bed while I take a look at those papers.”
She reached for him. “But I want you to fuck me.”
He groaned, standing. “And I’m going to oblige if you keep saying things like that. But I’d rather you sleep. The last few days have taken a toll. I’ll be here when you wake up and we’ll figure out what to do next.”
She let her head sink into the pillow. Her whole body seemed to exhale with relief. She was tired. More tired than she realized. “Okay, then. If you insist.”
He bent to kiss her on the forehead. “I do. Sleep well, my love.”
She closed her eyes, sleep already overtaking her. “I missed you so much,” she murmured.
She still didn’t have any answers about their future. But it was true, and in the space between wakefulness and slumber, the truth was all she had room for. She was drifting into sleep when his voice came to her in the darkness.
“I wasn’t breathing without you, Jenna.”
It was impossible to know how much time had passed when she was woken with a start. The light in the room was growing dim, and she looked around, trying to put her finger on what had pulled her from sleep. The first thing she noticed was a manila envelope on the bed by her feet, the edge of a photograph spilli
ng out of its opening.
The next thing she noticed was Farrell, sitting in the chair across the room, his eyes ablaze with fury. For a moment he didn’t speak, and a deep well of fear opened up inside her. Finally he narrowed his eyes and spoke.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
26
He’d been doing research on his computer, typing in phrases and scientific terms associated with the papers Jenna had found in her father’s safe deposit box, when Leo knocked on the door. Farrell had been surprised to see him, and he’d known immediately that his friend didn’t bring good news.
Leo hadn’t said anything, had simply handed him the envelope and sat quietly by as Farrell flipped through the photographs of the little girl. Most of them had been taken in New York, although a few had obviously been taken in London from a distance. Farrell suspected Leo had done that himself, wanting to corroborate what he’d discovered.
The images were like a body punch to his gut. There was no doubt the little girl was his. Leo had included a copy of the girl’s birth certificate. The date matched up perfectly with the timeline of his relationship with Jenna, her sudden exodus from London. More than that, he could see it in the child’s face. She had Jenna’s chestnut hair, her smile.
But looking into Lily Carver’s eyes was like looking into his own.
Leo had spoken softly and swiftly, careful not to wake Jenna in the next room. Jenna had given birth in New York. Alone. She’d raised Lily alone. She worked for Nico Vitale, per Farrell’s arrangement with the other man. She made herself scarce on social media. Had never posted a single picture of her child.
Their child. His daughter.
She had no friends, never socialized with colleagues. It was a portrait of a lonely life, and sadness for her warred in his mind with the rage that was slowly building, directed at both of them. She’d left him, but if he’d pursued her at all, had Leo or one of the other men give him updates, he would have known about Lily. Instead he’d been wounded and stubborn, and he’d lost four years of his child’s life.
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