Behind the Mask (MIRA)

by Metsy Hingle

  He caught her in his arms, ran his fingers down her back. A shiver of need raced down Lily’s spine. But then he was easing her away from him and looking at her with those too-serious blue eyes. “I told you, I wanted to make love with you, not to you. And that’s what we’re going to do. I want us both to enjoy it. All right?”

  Lily nodded.

  Then he pressed another of those long, slow kisses to her mouth. And when he lifted his head again, he said, “But I don’t want to just kiss your mouth. I want to kiss all of you.”

  And he did.

  He kissed her throat, her ear, her collarbone. He trailed kisses along her shoulders, down her arms, to the inside of her wrists. Changing course, he kissed her breast. First one, then the other, laving her nipples with his tongue. By the time he took her into his mouth and suckled, Lily was writhing beneath him. When he closed his teeth over the sensitive tip, she gasped and crushed his head to her breasts.

  “Hurry.”

  The word became a chant in her blood. She speared her fingers through his too-long hair, drank in his scent—soap and shampoo and aroused male. She moved her hands down his spine, enjoyed the feel of muscle and sinew and heated male flesh. She’d never felt desire like this before, Lily thought as Michael trailed more openmouthed kisses down her rib cage, to her belly, along her hip. He continued the journey moving down her outer thigh, along her calves. Changing directions, he kissed her instep, the inside of her calf, her inner thigh. He repeated the exploration on her other leg, then he moved between her thighs and kissed her center. When he spread her open with his fingers and touched her with his tongue, Lily nearly came off the bed.

  “Michael,” she cried out, not sure what she was asking for, only that the ache that he had set off inside her with the first kiss had begun a burning need that threatened to consume her.

  And then when she thought she couldn’t stand waiting another moment, the first spasm hit her, sending an explosion of pleasure through her so intense, she screamed.

  “It’s all right, love,” he said, replacing his mouth with his fingers. He stroked her, sliding one finger inside her, then another. He kissed her mouth, mimicking the movements with his tongue. Lily could feel herself growing damp, knew she should be embarrassed, but then he took her up again, brought her to another peak. And she could barely breathe, let alone think, as she felt her feminine muscles convulsing around his fingers.

  Michael tore his mouth free and rolled away from her for a second. “Where are you going?” she asked, suddenly disappointed.

  “Needed this,” he said, holding up a foil packet. He ripped it open with his teeth and removed the condom.

  “Let me,” she said, taking the thin covering from him. And then it was her turn to see him shudder as she smoothed the protection over his shaft. “You’re so beautiful,” she told him.

  “That’s supposed to be my line,” he told her, a smile on his lips as he kissed her again.

  But when she reached for him, guided him to her center, the smile disappeared from his lips. “Make love with me,” she whispered.

  Michael entered her in one deep stroke, filling her, stretching her. Then he began to move. Slowly at first, in and out, nearly withdrawing before thrusting deep inside her again. Then faster and faster until the chant in her head caught fire in her body as she could feel herself reaching flash point again.

  Michael caught her hands, twined them with his own, and when he thrust into her again, she arched her back and cried out, “Michael!” The explosion hit her, shattering her, scattering her into pieces. Moments later, she heard Michael’s cry as he followed her into the storm.

  And as she felt herself float back down to earth, Lily realized she’d made a terrible mistake. She’d fallen in love with Michael Sullivan.

  “Pete, look out!”

  “Michael. Michael, wake up.”

  Michael jerked upright in bed, his heart beating so fast he thought it would jump out of his chest. Breathing hard, he looked around the darkened room to get his bearings. And then he stared at the woman beside him. “Lily.” He said her name in a rush and pulled her into his arms.

  “It’s okay,” she soothed. “It’s okay. It was just a dream,” she murmured while she pressed tender kisses against his neck and stroked his head as though he were a child. “Just a bad dream.”

  With his back propped up against the pillows, he held Lily close and took comfort in the feel of her in his arms.

  “You were dreaming about your friend Pete, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah. About the night he died.”

  “You and he must have been very close,” she said.

  “We were. We grew up together. He was like another brother to me.”

  “Tell me about him,” she urged.

  So he told her. About all the good times and the bad. About the two of them going through training together. How he had always looked out for Pete—except for that last time. How he had let his friend down. How his mistakes had cost Pete his life.

  “What happened to your friend was tragic, but it wasn’t your fault, Michael. He was responsible for the choices he made, not you.”

  “You don’t understand. Pete needed me. He called me that day because he knew he’d messed up and needed me to help him.”

  “And you tried to help him.”

  “But I failed him,” Michael told her.

  She sat up, looked at him with those big, serious green eyes. “No, you didn’t. Pete was weak and failed himself. The only thing you’re guilty of is thinking that it was your job to save him. It wasn’t. And while it was noble of you to want to shield Pete’s family, you shouldn’t have. It was wrong of you to lie about what happened—especially to your family. You should have trusted them with the truth right from the start. They loved you. They would have understood.” She paused. “But then maybe you didn’t want to give them the chance to understand because you needed to punish yourself for Pete’s death.”

  Michael knew that much of what she said was true. He should have trusted in his family, should have known his father would have stood by him. But he hadn’t, because he had believed he didn’t deserve his love. Now he’d made the same mistake again. He hadn’t trusted Lily, and now he’d waited too long to tell her the truth about how Adam had found her. Yet if he confessed now, she’d leave and he’d have no hope of getting her to safety. “How did you get so smart?”

  “I’m not smart at all. Look at the mess I’m in and the danger I’ve put Timmy in.”

  Michael tipped up her chin. “We’re going to get through this. I promise. This time tomorrow night, you and Timmy will be safe in Oklahoma.”

  “What about you? Will I see you again?”

  “Count on it,” he said, and kissed her deeply, all the while praying that she would want to see him again once he told her everything. When he lifted his head, he whispered, “It’ll be morning soon. Let’s not waste the rest of the night talking.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep—not knowing that Adam’s men are out there somewhere, wondering if they know we’re here, if they know where Timmy is.”

  “Sleep isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he told her, hating that he’d been partly responsible for the worry he heard in her voice.

  “No?” she countered, giving him a shy womanly smile. “Then why don’t you tell me what it is you have in mind?”

  “I’ll do better than that, I’ll show you,” he said, and rolling over with her in his arms, he eased her down on top of him. And as she took him in and began to move with him, Michael felt the last vestiges of the nightmare fade away. She looked like a goddess, he thought as she arched her back and rode him like a stallion. He struggled to hold himself back, nearly lost it when the first climax hit her. Then when she called out his name and her muscles convulsed around him, he felt himself explode. And holding on to her, he followed her over the edge.

  Later, much much later as Lily slept beside him, Michael could feel the weight of the
past falling from his shoulders. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to think of the future. Maybe he would go back to being a cop, he thought, or possibly even join the Bureau. Lily had been right. Maybe he had been punishing himself all these years because Pete was dead and he was alive. But whatever role he’d played in Pete’s death, Pete’s choices had been his own. He saw that now.

  He looked over at Lily snuggled against him, asleep. He wanted a future with her, he realized. With her and with Timmy. God help him, he was in love with her. The realization stunned him, even frightened him. And then he imagined what it would be like to be married to Lily, to come home to her and Timmy each night, sharing his life with her.

  And what do you think she’ll say when she finds out that you were the one who betrayed her? That you were the one who unleashed Webster on her and her son?

  The fantasies dissolved in an instant. Lily would hate him. And he’d have no one to blame but himself.

  Lily paced the hotel room. She glanced at her watch again and willed the hours to tick past. Edgy, unable to sit still, she’d been up since dawn. She’d already donned her costume, done her makeup and was just waiting for the parades to get fully under way so that she and Michael could go to Timmy. She went to the window and stared down for the hundredth time at the spectacle in the streets.

  “Lily, try to relax,” Michael said, coming up behind her. He slid his arms around her waist.

  “I can’t. I just want this to be over. I want to see Timmy.”

  He turned her around, held her in his arms. “I know you do. And it won’t be much longer.”

  “He sounded so pitiful on the phone when I talked to him a few minutes ago. Gertie’s house is on the parade route and he can see all the people in their costumes and hear the bands lining up for the parades. He doesn’t understand why he can’t go.”

  “We’ll come back next year and take him,” Michael promised.

  Lily held on to Michael, held on to the idea that maybe it was possible. Maybe she and Timmy really would be able to come back here with Michael next year. He’d thought she would be upset when he told her that if Travis was right and Adam was convicted of drug and prostitution trafficking, all of Adam’s assets would be confiscated and tied up forever. He’d been so sweet, trying to prepare her for the fact that she wouldn’t be able to claim any share of their marital wealth. But she didn’t care about the money, the houses, any of it. All she wanted was freedom for her and her son.

  And Michael. Could he be right? Would she really be able to free herself from Adam and actually have a future with Michael? Oh, she wanted that, she admitted. She wanted it more than she’d ever dreamed.

  “Look at that float,” Michael said. “There must be at least fifty people on it.”

  She looked at the monster float, and at the mass of people who stood shoulder to shoulder on both sides of the street with their hands outstretched. “You’d think they would have had enough of this by now. They’ve been doing this for weeks.”

  “They don’t call New Orleans a party city for nothing.”

  At the shrill of Michael’s cell phone, Lily jumped.

  “Take it easy,” he told her, walking over and snatching up the phone. “Yes.”

  Lily held her breath, waiting. From Michael’s side of the conversation, she could determine little. He merely seemed to listen, giving an occasional yes or no, and his expression gave away nothing.

  “Because I don’t have to. I just know, that’s how.” He scowled. “The minute you find out, call me. Yes, all right. I will,” he said. “And Travis, thanks.”

  When he ended the call, he walked over to her, and Lily knew whatever it was, she wasn’t going to like it. “What is it? What did Travis say?”

  “Come sit down, Lily.”

  She jerked away from him. “I don’t want to sit down. I want to know what’s wrong. Is it Timmy? Has something happened to Timmy?”

  “No,” Michael said sharply. “Your place was ransacked last night. So was my hotel room and truck. Travis is convinced it was Webster’s men. He thinks they were searching for something. Do you have any idea what they might be looking for?”

  Lily thought about the disk, considered, once again, telling him about it. But what if Michael’s plan fell apart and Adam found her and Timmy? The disk would be her only hope of saving her son, she reasoned, and decided to remain silent. “Maybe they think I still have the money I took from Adam’s safe.”

  “Maybe,” Michael said.

  “Did Travis say anything more about Adam? Do they still have him under surveillance in Miami?”

  Michael said nothing, and an icy fear shivered down her spine. For the first time, Lily thought that she finally understood the adage about someone walking over a person’s grave.

  “Tell me, Michael. Whatever it is, tell me.”

  “Webster’s in New Orleans.”

  Sixteen

  “Let me go,” Lily demanded, and struggled to break free. “I need to get to my baby.”

  Michael ached for her, hated to see the fear in her eyes. “Think, Lily. Think,” he said as he held on to her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Timmy’s safe with my father at Gertie’s right now because Webster doesn’t know about her. We’re going to assume his men spotted us last night and know that we’re here. If they know, Webster knows. And if we walk out of here now before the time is right, we’re going to lead them straight to Timmy.”

  “Oh God,” she sobbed as she fell against him.

  He stroked her head. “We’re almost there, Lily. We just need to wait a little longer. Once the big parades get under way, there’ll be so many people out there moving around in costumes, racing around those floats and bands, Webster would need an army to check out everyone on that street.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, held her away from him so that he could see her face. “It’s going to be all right. Travis and his men are trying to pick up Webster’s trail now.”

  “But what if they can’t find him?”

  “They’ll find him,” Michael assured her. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with his brother. Had Travis been right? Was he thinking like a man instead of a cop? If Webster only wanted Lily, why ransack her place? Why search his hotel room and truck? Was Lily keeping something from him? And if she was, could he really blame her? After all, look at what he’d kept from her.

  “I want to call Timmy again, make sure that he’s okay.”

  “All right,” Michael told her, giving her the phone. “But you just talked to him a little while ago. If he or Gertie knows you’re scared, it’s only going to make them more nervous. Dad was worried he’d have to take Gertie to the hospital last night for her blood pressure. I’d hate to see that happen today.”

  “You’re right,” she said, not completing the call. “I’m just scared.”

  “I know,” Michael told her, and held her close. He could understand her nervousness, because he didn’t have a good feeling about this. He didn’t like the fact that Webster had shaken the tail Travis had put on the him. And he didn’t like the feeling that Lily had been keeping something from him—something that would make Webster take such a huge risk by coming after her like this. He also wished he knew what was behind that call she’d made to Agent Logan. According to what little his brother had been able to find out, the woman who had called Logan had information relating to an agent’s murder. But what murder?

  Michael thought about his father’s refusal when he’d suggested asking Travis to pull a few of the men from his team and send them to Gertie’s as backup. He hadn’t argued because he’d known his father could handle himself and also he hadn’t wanted to pull manpower they needed to handle Webster. But now he wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision.

  “How about I call Travis back and see if he can send a few men over to Gertie’s to help my father keep an eye on the little cowboy?”

  “Yes. Yes, I would appreciate that.”

  Michael made t
he call to his brother. “Your people will probably have a hell of a time getting there. It’s on the parade route. But since we don’t know where Webster is, it might be a good idea.”

  “Mike, about what I said earlier,” Travis said. “That crack about you thinking like a man instead of a cop, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I think you were right,” he said, aware that Lily was listening. “I am too close to the situation to be objective.”

  “She’s special, huh?”

  “Yeah. And so is the little boy.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting them,” Travis told him. “And to seeing your ugly puss again.”

  “Same here,” Michael said, and realized it was true. He was looking forward to introducing Lily and Timmy to his brother. And to seeing his father again. “Give me a call and let me know when your people have them safe.”

  “Will do.”

  Michael ended the call and turned to Lily. “Travis is sending someone over to Gertie’s now. But it’ll probably take a while because of the parades.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and hugged him tight.

  Michael held her close, and reveled in the feel of her in his arms. He prayed to God he’d be able to keep the promises he’d made to her. After a moment, he stepped back and said, “Tell you what, since it doesn’t look like room service is going to make it up here with that breakfast I ordered, why don’t I go down and see if I can rustle us up something to eat? In the meantime, you go fix those tear streaks around Cleopatra’s eyes.”

  Lily touched her face, looked at the black smudges on her fingers. “I probably look like a raccoon.”

  “Yeah, but a beautiful raccoon,” he teased. He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  “By the time I get back and we get some food in our stomachs, those parades should be under way and it’ll be time to go.” He stared into her eyes. “Is it a deal? You go fix that Queen of the Nile face for me?”

  “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Relax, Bernie,” Adam told his fidgety chief of security as they mingled with the other men, dressed in the ridiculous costumes and masks, in the hotel’s private dining room. Arranging for a private flight into New Orleans Lakefront airport had made it so much easier than he’d expected. It also made it more difficult for the idiots tracking them to follow.