by Lucy Farago
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Sort of. Just last week my teacher told me I was ready to fly on my own.”
She attempted to scramble up but being tied in she didn’t get very far. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to fly with a novice.”
“Relax. I’ve been flying since I was twenty. It was one of the first things my boss had me learn.”
“No bullshit?”
He knelt on one knee in front of her. “I haven’t lied to you yet. I’m a good pilot. Relax. The bar is stocked if you need anything, water or something stronger. But I should warn you that while there is a bathroom in the back, it’s very small. You can sit back here or up front with me. Whatever makes you more comfortable.” She’d be better off sleeping, but he wasn’t about to tell her what to do.
“I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Can I sit up front?”
“Is that because you don’t trust me or because you don’t want to be alone?” He could sort of understand both.
“Neither. I want to be with you. You make me feel safe and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Though I am surprised,” she said, dropping her gaze to her hands folded on her lap.
He placed his hand over hers and squeezed. “I’m glad to hear that.” He reached across again and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Come on.” He helped her stand not because she needed help but because it gave him the perfect excuse to pull her up close to him. Their bodies touched and for a long moment they simply looked at each other. He considered kissing her but the tower coming through on the radio broke the spell. “That’s our cue to leave.”
Four and half hours later they’d landed and gone straight to his place in Manhattan. He showed Grace the guest bedroom and suggested she try to sleep. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
She nodded with no argument. She’d put on a brave face, but he could tell she’d been nervous the entire trip. She might say she trusted him again but she didn’t, not completely. The realization stung. It shouldn’t. When this was over they’d go their separate ways and he’d do well to remember that.
As Grace brushed her teeth and got ready for bed, he booted up his computer to look for anything and everything he could find on Isaiah’s family. Monty was a night owl so he’d had no qualms about calling him in the middle of the night to find out if they or one of their family members owned property anywhere outside of the city. Nothing came up. He’d gotten Monty to crack Isaiah’s Facebook password, and Isaiah seemed to be a tad smarter than most. He only had forty friends, all with similar postings centered around school.
Scrolling through photo album after photo album he checked the kid’s pictures, hoping to find something, anything that might tell them where they’d gone. Then jackpot. There were seven in total, one album for each year the Lewis family had traveled to Lake Mahwah for a vacation, just a little over an hour outside of New York. He downloaded the pictures he thought might help them pinpoint the cabin and flipped them to Monty. Maybe he could pick something up on satellite.
He stretched; his neck and back, already stiff from the flight, ached. He had a few hours until he was to wake Grace so he headed to his own bedroom. He paused outside the guest room and stared at the doorknob. He wanted to open the door, even if it was only to watch her sleep. He pressed his forehead to the cold wood. What the hell was happening to him? He didn’t fall for women he barely knew. Shit, he didn’t fall, period. He should get some sleep. Feeling more and more foolish, he was about to leaving when he heard it. Crying. He rubbed his stiff neck. Why had he left her alone? His chest constricted. He knocked. “Grace? May I come in?”
It took several long heartbeats before she replied. “I’m fine, Cowboy. Really.”
“You’re crying. You’re not fine.”
There was a pause and then a click as she opened the door. She wore the plain pink t-shirt he’d seen her pack. It fell down to mid-thigh and her hair had loosened from the ponytail she’d trapped it in. Her face was rosy, her eyes were puffy and her long lashes glittered, proof she was not fine. “What can I do?” he said, desperate to make this better.
She looked down at her bare feet. A tear fell and dropped on a painted pink toe. “You can tell me someone screwed up and that’s not Jessie in the coroner’s office. Can you do that?” she asked, her voice catching on the question.
“I can have Monty double-check the data but unless someone is tampering with the evidence…”
“I didn’t…” She sucked in a sob. “I didn’t think so,” she said, covering her face with her hands.
Wrapping his arms around her, he drew himself to her. Pressed to his chest like this, her body stiff as she valiantly tried to hold it together, he couldn’t take it anymore. He bent down, hooked an arm under knees and carried her to the bed. She didn’t object as he settled them both. He cocooned himself around her, held her close, as if he could shield her from this pain. But he couldn’t. She wept.
He was no good at this. He soothed her with all the words he used to hear his mama say, things that somehow made the bad go away. I’m here. Don’t you worry. Everything will be all right. But she kept crying, just as he knew she would, just as she needed to. All he could give her was his strength, to tell her she was safe, because when your world fell apart and you with it, didn’t you want to know someone would put you back together?
He wasn’t sure how long he held her like that, cradled like a babe. He didn’t much care. It felt right, to protect her, to try to be her rock. And he’d do it as long as she needed him. But he understood what she needed more and before he knew it, he said it. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll find out who did this.” He’d do it for her, for Jessie, and for himself too.
Her sobs calmed and with a final sniff she pulled herself up onto her knees, making his arms cold and empty. “We’ll find who did this.”
He half smiled, happy to see the woman he’d come to know. “We’ll,” he amended.
She glanced over her shoulder at the window, its white shade tinged a deep orange as morning struck Manhattan. Grace angrily wiped her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, turning to him, yet unable to meet his eyes.
He wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for. Was it holding her while she cried or including her?
“For both things,” she said on a sigh. “Can this be more awkward? I’m…I’m sorry. My behavior was pathetic. Tears never solve anything.”
“Is that what you believe?” He didn’t see it that way.
“Is she here? Did my crying somehow bring her back?”
He lifted her chin with two fingers, wanting her to look at him. “No, but the tears weren’t for her.”
“Me? Then it was a waste of time.”
“You don’t cry, do you?” he asked, surprised and disappointed. “Of course not. That’s right up there with fairy tales and,” he snorted, “going to the movies. Grace—” He started and stopped himself. He didn’t agree with her. Death wasn’t something you looked at analytically. People didn’t work that way and if they thought otherwise they were kidding themselves. Sooner or later they’d implode. And that wasn’t what he wanted for her. But for right now, she believed she needed to be tough, and if that got her through the next few days, or until they found Jessie’s murderer…or not, then so be it. Later he would help her deal with the loss, because deal with it she had to. “Never mind. There are clean towels in the bathroom if you want to shower. You can sleep in the car if you’re still tired.”
“I didn’t think anybody drove in New York.”
“In Manhattan, no, most don’t, but we’re going an hour out of the city and I doubt you’re up to walking.” He scooted off the bed. “I have a theory about where the Lewises might have gone. I think it’s worth checking out”.
“Then let’s go,” she said, also jumping off the bed.
“You don’t want to shower?”
“I showered last night. Why, do I smell?” She sniffed her shoulder.
Moving closer, he took full advant
age of her question. He leaned down and touched his lips to her neck, where he inhaled deeply then slowly blew his warm breath through his mouth. She shivered—the effect he was going for. “You smell divine,” he said against her skin. He watched as her neck muscles corded in an attempt to hold off yet another shiver. It didn’t work. Taking encouragement from her reaction, he wrapped his arms around her, one at her shoulders, the other low on her hips, and he pressed her even closer. Then he slid his mouth up the column of her neck, over her chin, and landed firmly on her mouth, where he kissed her the way he’d been wanting to since the last time they’d been intimate. When she didn’t fight him and in fact welcomed the attention, he pushed his tongue inside and tasted.
He wanted more and was certain the hard-on pressed against her stomach would tell her that. But he knew better than to take advantage of a woman who claimed she was all right but wasn’t. Ashamed of himself, he tried to pull away. Tried, because Grace locked her arms around his waist and she wasn’t letting go. But he had the advantage of height. When he removed his mouth from hers, she could do little except whimper. It was soft and sexy and he was sorely tempted to give her what she wanted.
“Why are you stopping?” she asked, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.
“I—” he started to say when her hand slid down and groped his ass. He cleared his thought, hoping it would clear his sex-craved brain. It didn’t work because the next thing he knew she’d grabbed the neck of his t-shirt and yanked him down until she could look him in the eyes.
“If you even think about stopping, I will make the drive to wherever we are going a living hell. Got me?”
“Yes ma’am.” He quirked the corner of his mouth, knowing this wasn’t a good idea and really not giving a shit. He put his hands under her arms and pulled her up so they were face to face. She, lucky guy that he was, wrapped her legs over his hips. Then he kissed her again, telling himself if this was what she needed, this he would give her.
Grace debated whether she was doing the right thing, but the moment his hands cupped her almost bare ass, she couldn’t wait until he dropped her on the bed. Sure, sex wasn’t the answer, but it would certainly make her feel better while they were doing it. Immediate satisfaction was her new motto because God knew slow and analytical hadn’t been working for her. She kissed him, lost herself in a man who probably shouldn’t be trusted. But right now, this wasn’t about trust. This was the need for something mind-blowing, something Cowboy could deliver in spades.
She didn’t want to think, at least not about anything that didn’t involve a too charming cowboy. The moment they bumped into the bed she jumped out of his arms and threw off her top, leaving the rest for him. There was something intensely erotic about the way he removed her panties. The hunger in his eyes, the anticipation of what was to come, how he was going to make her come. But first, she was going to take his clothes off.
Kneeling she edged her way to the side of the bed until their legs met. Then with a wicked grin, she rose to her feet, taking his t-shirt with her. Up over his head it went, the extra height from the bed allowing them to stand nose to nose. Wanting to feel his skin next to hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck and with a kiss, promised what was to come. Making certain to rub her breast against his naked chest, she slid down his body and went to work on his belt, kissing and licking his chest as she unbuckled, unsnapped, and unzipped. She nipped at his shoulder as she slipped her hands inside his pants and pulled the jeans and underwear off his hips.
She glanced down longingly at his powerful erection, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
“Not a chance,” he said, his drawl pronounced.
“Huh?” she replied half dazed.
He finished undressing then pushed her down on the bed. “Keep that mouth to yourself,” he warned.
“Oh?” There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t want a woman down on her knees, her mouth open and ready. “You don’t like—”
“Oh I like. I like too much. But right here, right now, this isn’t about me.” And he proved it.
His hands touched, caressed, and teased as he crooned nonsensical things, things a man who cared about a woman might say. He wanted her to feel special, just like he’d done with the Cinderella carriage. She told herself not to make it more than it was. This was Cowboy. Always doing. Always giving. This was who he was.
When at last he glided the condom on and they joined, it was fast and frenzied, each pummel a welcome relief of the week’s event. The sight of his long body over hers—in her—the smell of sex…his taste as she bit into his shoulder… two bodies slapping together, now slick with sweat and oh, the corded muscles under her fingertips, her hands desperate to touch more, to overload her senses with him, only him, leaving room for nothing else. Her release came fast but went on and on. She was the tidal wave cresting at sea, receding only to build strength, to be bigger, better, more powerful. And when at last the tendrils of her sanity crawled exhausted to shore, Cowboy was there to hold her. Pressed against his chest, his strong heart beating beneath her ear, a solitary tear ran down the side of her face. Thank God he didn’t notice.
Chapter Sixteen
With wanting to be on the road early, there’d been no time to contemplate what they’d done. Twice, thankfully having found another condom. Besides, why drive herself crazy? She’d needed something to replace the pain of losing Jessie. Their first stop had been to Isaiah’s mother and father’s workplace. Grace took the lead, thinking the staff would be more open to talking to a female reporter doing a story about the black woman whose accomplishments and generous spirit had earned her the hearts of many. His plan worked but they learned nothing new, except neither vacation had been pre-planned and was very sudden, as Grace and Cowboy had suspected.
She snuck a peak at the man driving them. “Are you going to get in trouble again?”
“For what?”
“Sleeping with me.”
“Last time I checked you weren’t a minor. Are you planning on calling your daddy every time we’re intimate?”
Did he mean every time, like it was going to be a regular thing with them? Or was she doing what she promised herself she wouldn’t, reading too much into it? “No.”
“Good. I respect the man, and I don’t believe he’d want to hear about it.”
“I just mean I don’t want to get you in trouble for breaking rules with your boss. I can handle my father.” If he didn’t like her sleeping with Cowboy, tough. She wasn’t a child.
“Why would Ryan care if we were sleeping together?” he said, shoulder checking before moving into the left lane.
“I don’t know. Don’t you have a no sleeping with the clients rule?”
Cowboy laughed. “He trusts our judgment. Considering some of the situations he’s thrown us in, he has no choice. Besides, you’re not a client.”
“My father is.”
Cowboy didn’t respond. In fact, his silence was curious. “You got something you’re not telling me?”
He sipped on the coffee they’d picked up. “I dropped your case.”
“You’re not my bodyguard anymore?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“Oh, I’m still your bodyguard,” he said, taking his eyes off the road for a second to give her a pointed stare. “The only thing that’s changed is my client.”
“I’m confused. You’re working for someone else and it’s not my father? What the hell, Cowboy. Who are you working for?”
“Myself.”
She blinked. “You hired yourself to watch over me? Seriously? Have you lost it?” She shut the radio off, wanting nothing to distract him from this crazy conversation.
He signaled right and pulled off into a gas station and stopped at the pump. He turned sideways to face her. “I wanted you to know I was serious. I called my boss and told him he wasn’t getting paid and I was following through on the assignment on my own.”
She opened her mouth and closed it. “At all costs,”
she said. “ICU’s motto.”
“You’re not an assignment to me, Grace. This has become personal for me too. Jessie was an innocent woman. She deserves justice. And if the Stantons are involved, the police will have a hard time making it stick without help. And if I know my boss, he suspected what your father wanted and, because of his father, said nothing to me.”
“You think the Stantons are that corrupt?”
“I think Lyle would do everything in his power to put his son in the White House. Even the rehab where he sent Mrs. Stanton was for political reasons. You watch—she’ll come out touting rhetoric that will make it appear like she’s seen the error of her ways and she’s a new person. I wouldn’t be surprised to see one or more charities added to her dossier. Mostly children related.”
“Wow, you’re more of a cynic than I am.”
“No, but when we’re talking politics, everything is a game. Listen, we have time. Why don’t you sleep some more?” Yawning, he covered his mouth. “I have to fill up,” he said and left the car.
She watched his reflection in the side mirror and for the first time, noticed the bags under his eyes. She was a total shit.
“Why don’t I drive and you sleep?” she said once he’d gotten back inside. “You have it in the GPS right?” It was the least she could do.
“Are you sure?”
She should have offered sooner. “I’m sure.”
He unbuckled the seatbelt he’d just fastened but before she opened her door, he pulled her in and kissed her. He tasted like coffee and felt far too good and far too right. And not just physically.
He smiled, his eyes steady on hers. “I like kissing you,” he said as if he needed to explain. Then he got out as she climbed into the driver’s seat.
She had a few seconds to watch his tall body as he traveled around the front to the passenger side. It was a few seconds too long not to realize she’d become like one of those silly bachelorettes she and Jessie would argue over. Real love, if there was such a thing, grew from friendship—knowing someone. Jessie believed in love at first sight because it had happened to her parents. And yet here she was, knowing that when she and Cowboy parted ways, she’d be…. Not heartbroken. But she would be sad. She liked this man. Okay, she more than liked him.