Dangerous Kiss

by Michelle Love

  Part #8: Ethan

  Heartbeat. One. Two. Three. Try to breathe. Keep calm.

  Kizzie Kline sat with Jake Fonseca as they waited in the hospital’s emergency room. They were waiting for the ambulance to arrive, the police, the search party staff. Jake sat forward, his elbows on his knees, never taking his eyes off the door. Kizzie hesitantly put her hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be okay.”

  But she knew she was lying, and that Jake knew that as well. Five days. Five days, Ethan had been missing and now this. Kizzie closed her eyes. Why didn’t I listen to you? Why didn’t I take your calls, give you a chance?

  She had joined Jake’s search parties after he had called her and had worked side by side with Ethan’s brother to scour every location they could think of.

  Where are you?

  But until an hour ago, no one knew. Then the call. We found him, behind some dumpsters downtown. It’s bad.

  It’s bad. God … all Kizzie and Jake knew now was that Ethan was being rushed to hospital with knife wounds. How many and how serious? Christ … please, Ethan, don’t give up. Please, please stay with us.

  Jake stood suddenly, and adrenaline flooded Kizzie’s system. Outside the double doors, she saw the ambulance, a swarm of first responders, then finally, the gurney. Jake darted forward, Kizzie close behind him. Ethan was so pale, so white, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. He was covered in blood.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered as Jake howled his brother’s name. A policeman took them aside as Ethan was rushed into surgery.

  “Kids, in here.” He steered them into a relative’s room and made them sit. “Look, I’m sorry to have to tell you that it looks like Ethan’s been stabbed. We found him with multiple wounds to the chest and arms … we think he may have been attacked sometime in the night.”

  Jake, his eyes tormented, shook his head in disbelief. “But where has he been for the past five days? That’s what I don’t get? And why try to kill him? He didn’t have anything with him.”

  “He had one thing with him, but we are having trouble knowing why he had it.”

  He handed Jake a sealed clear evidence bag. “Do you know this woman, Mr. Fonseca?”

  Jake squinted at the photograph in the bag and shook his head. Kizzie’s heart was pounding.

  “May I have a look, please?”

  Jake handed her the bag and Kizzie, with dread and certainty, looked down at the photograph of her dead sister. “It’s Lexi,” she said, her voice a whisper. “It’s my sister. Oh God … Officer, I don’t think Ethan was attacked.”

  The police officer and Jake stared at her as her eyes filled with tears. “What do you mean?”

  Kizzie began to cry softly. “I think he did it to himself. I think Ethan was trying to kill himself.” She broke into noisy sobs as Jake and the policeman looked at each other in shock.

  Zea slid her arms around Flynt’s waist and kissed him. He responded and she felt him relax in her arms. After the diner had been destroyed, Flynt had insisted that they—Zea, Teresa, their boss Amos, and himself—go into business together. “I’m thinking high-end catering?”

  Zea and Teresa were excited, but Amos gratefully declined. “I’m going where the sun is, thank you, Flynt. My sister had been nagging me to go live with her in San Diego, and you know what? I’m gonna do it.”

  They would miss their kind old boss but now Zea and Teresa were planning their future. Flynt was putting up the capital and even talking about building a restaurant. Zea reeled him in when he got too ambitious—“Dude, I might be a trained chef but I’m nowhere near Cordon Bleu standard”—but Flynt shook his head.

  “Don’t put yourselves down; the diner was one of the most popular in Portland for a reason. Now, what’s so bad with being a high quality but still family based establishment?”

  In the end, Zea and Teresa let Flynt get ambitious and went along with whatever he suggested. Both were excited about the potential.

  Better still was Zea and Flynt’s new life together. Free of the threat of Jared Podesta, they embraced married life, planning their future together.

  One Saturday, they spent the day in a city coffeehouse, just talking and planning while the rain poured down outside.

  Zea snuggled into Flynt’s arms. “Baby. What a year it’s been.”

  He sighed and buried his face in her hair.

  “Do you believe it?” He muttered.

  “That Jared is dead? I don’t know, I really don’t. I hope, though. I hope, is all.”

  Flynt nodded, glanced at his watch and smiled. “Well, would you look at that. We managed to waste a whole day. C’mon, bub, I’m taking you home.”

  His cellphone beeped and he answered it. “Oh, hey, Mike. Yeah? Okay, well, we’re in the city … Bruno’s, why? Okay, see you in a few.”

  “What was that?” Zea looked at her husband curiously.

  “Mike and Teresa are on their way. Something about the case.”

  In a few minutes, Mike appeared at the door, an excited Teresa practically bouncing at his shoulder.

  He held a sheet of paper out to Flynt “It’s not one hundred per cent confirmed but…”

  As Flynt read, Teresa grinned at Zea and put her arms around Milo. He flushed and kissed her cheek.

  Flynt, his face stunned, held the paper out to Zea. She took the paper and looked at it, not understanding what the technical jargon meant. She looked up at Flynt, eyes wide. He smiled, a wide, genuine grin of elation.

  “They’ve found, and I’m quoting, a familial match. Whoever that was in the fire is biologically related to David. They need to do more tests to make sure and see if they can pin down the exact relationship but…”

  He was cut off as Zea threw herself into his arms and kissed him. “It’s over?”

  Flynt laughed as their friends looked on. “It really is, my love; it really is.”

  Emory Dutta smiled as she felt Dante’s lips drifted slowly up her spine. “Good morning.”

  She heard him chuckle softly, then his body covered hers. “And the same to you, beautiful. How about you roll over and show me properly just how good a morning it is?”

  Emory giggled and did as he asked. They were lying in a pool of sunlight on his massive king-sized bed, and Emory had never felt more alive than she did at this moment. The last weeks as they had enjoyed each other were a fairy tale, as far as she was concerned. Every day more memories came back, especially those of her miserable marriage, and every time she thought she might break from the horror of it, Dante was there to hold her, talk to her, love her.

  And their lovemaking … Emory knew she could never give this up. They connected at such a deep level, and when Dante was inside of her, she truly felt she was home.

  She stroked back his curls now. When he was happy, his swarthy face took on an almost boyish look—in sharp contrast to when his temper was roused— never directed at her, rather, in response to her remembering how Ray Grace had treated her, but then Dante’s face would harden and become almost menacing. She didn’t tell him, but it kind of turned her on when he was like that.

  He was looking down at her now, his green eyes intense. “What are you thinking?”

  She smiled. “I was thinking that I never want to leave this moment with you.”

  Dante grinned. “Well, that’s good to know, because I have a little something for you…”

  She could already feel his cock hard against her thigh, and she chuckled, wrapping her legs around his waist. “That’s nowhere in the realm of being little,” she teased, then gasped as he drove it into her, shuddering and trembling with the force of his love. She kissed him as they moved together, bodies twisting and cleaving to the motion.

  “Dante,” Emory whispered, her excitement unbearable, “fuck me, Dante. Fuck me hard.”

  His face took on that intense look she loved, and he thrust deeper and harder, as if he wanted to rip her in two. Emory cried out his name, feeling the desire flooding through her body until she couldn�
��t hold back any longer and came, her body vibrating. Dante, his own orgasm pumping thick white semen deep inside her, didn’t let her recover, though. His hands and mouth were rough on her breasts, tasting and biting and Emory lost herself in the pleasure he was giving her. Dante pinned her hands over her head and fucked her again, harder, almost violently, until she begged him never to stop.

  Eventually, exhausted, and overcome by love, Emory fell asleep in his arms. As she was drifting off, she whispered, “I love you, Dante Harper,” but she was asleep before she could hear any reply.

  When she woke, the bed was cold, and Dante was standing at the window, staring out. Emory, shivering, wrapped herself in the sheet. “Are you okay, baby?”

  Dante nodded and then turned to her. His expression was blank, but something in his eyes made her shiver.

  “It’s time,” he said in a soft but determined voice, “It’s time, Emory. It’s time for you to know the whole truth.”

  Kizzie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed where she stretched, enjoying the feel of her limbs working. Jake was passed out, his head leaned against the wall. She looked around, grabbed a blanket, and covered him.

  She went to check on Ethan. He’d come through the surgery but was still very critical, and now was in a coma. Kizzie stroked his head, feeling how cool his skin felt.

  “Don’t leave us, Ethan. Nothing is so bad that we can’t overcome it.”

  She laughed softly, remembering Jesse saying the same thing to her when Lexi died. What the hell was Ethan hiding, and who was he protecting? A few days previously, Jesse had come to the hospital to see her, asking her who Ethan was, and how she was involved with him. Kizzie told her brother everything she could and Jesse had agreed it was odd. “Whatever it is, though, Kiz, can wait until he’s recovering well.”

  She had smiled at her older brother. “You’re a good man, Jesse Kline.”

  Thinking about Jesse was when the idea came to her. Julieta was just a few corridors away—and Kizzie wanted to ask her why she had done it, why she had aborted her own child. Julieta must have known it was the only thing tying Jesse to her. Kizzie didn’t understand why she would have done something so self-destructive. And she wanted to know why. She slipped her bathrobe on and padded through the darkened hospital to see if Julieta was awake.

  There were no nurses around in the gynecological wing. Kizzie peered into each room. At the far end, there was a light on. She headed towards it. She heard a male voice as she stepped up to the half-closed door of the room.

  “I told you, after everything is resolved, we’ll go away.”

  “Why not now? Jesse’s left me. He knows about the pill you gave me. That damn Fonseca asshole tried to off himself. Word is he’s not going to make it. We’re home free. No one knows it was us. No one knows what we did to Azano…”

  “Shut up. This is not the place.”

  “I’m just saying, if Ethan wakes up and rats us out, we’re fucked.”

  Kizzie edged forward to peer through the crack in the door. She saw a guy she didn’t know sitting on Julieta’s bed. Julieta was caressing his face.

  “Haven’t I done enough for you? Aren’t I enough for you, Nick?”

  Nick didn’t answer. Julieta became whiny.

  “I aborted our baby for you. Your baby, Nick. I did what you asked. I distracted Jesse enough to stop asking questions.”

  Kizzie gasped. Nick’s head shot up and he turned towards the door. Kizzie backed off, turned, and ran. She heard him following her, and terror flooded her body. There was no one around, no one she could ask for help.

  Jake. He would help her. She ran silently through the hospital but got lost and had to double back. Up ahead, she saw Ethan’s room and gave a sigh of relief … but then she was grabbed from behind.

  The guy called Nick slammed her back against the wall. Kizzie’s blood froze as she saw the scalpel in his hand. Oh, God, no …

  “Hey!’ Jake.

  Nick dropped her and ran, and Kizzie collapsed with relief. Jake’s arms were around her then, pulling her up. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

  Kizzie was too shaken to speak for a moment. Jake brought her back to Ethan’s room and held her hands while she calmed herself. She told him haltingly what she’d heard, and Jake was appalled.

  “We have to go to the police.” He stood, but she grabbed his arms.

  “Wait. Let’s wait until Ethan wakes up and tells us what the hell happened. I don’t want him waking up to find he’s about to be arrested for something he never had any hand in. We need to know the truth, Jake. Please, wait.”

  Jake didn’t look happy, but he gave a quick nod. “Okay. But you’re not to go anywhere on your own, understand me? I don’t want that guy attacking you again. We at least need to tell the hospital so he can’t get in again.”

  When Jake had sent her home in a cab (Don’t let him stop, just get home safe), Kizzie had sat, angry with herself but even angrier at the situation. What Nick had done was not just to her, but to Ethan, to Julieta and to the school.

  When Jesse let her in, she looked fierce. He gave her a half-smile

  “Hey, what got your goat?”

  “Jesse, the baby wasn’t yours.”

  That floored him, and he sat down heavily in a chair. She reached over and touched his face.

  “Should I not have told you?”

  “No, of course, you should. And part of me isn’t surprised. But, hell, what a bitch.”

  She nodded. “I went down earlier to talk to her. I know—” she grimaced at the look on Jesse’s face. “But I wanted to know why she’d done it. It didn’t make sense. If she wanted to keep you, why did she get rid of the only thing you were staying for? I was outside the room when I heard his voice. She said, ‘I aborted your baby, Nick.’ He heard me listening and threatened me.”

  “What the fuck? Is she talking about Nick Petersen?” Jesse stood up now. “The fucker, what did he say?”

  “Just to keep my mouth shut. Which, obviously, I’m not going to do. Except … Jess, I think Ethan is involved, somehow. He’s caught up with this, with the shooting at the school. I can’t believe he had a hand in it, so it must be something else. Nick Petersen is at the center of this, I know it.”

  Jesse looked as confused as she felt. “Julieta told me she had gotten rid of the baby because of Bree.”

  Kizzie shook her head. “Misdirection.”

  “Looks like. God, what are we going to do?”

  “Wait for Ethan to wake up. He’ll tell us everything, I know it.”

  Jesse looked at his sister, his eyes sympathetic. “Will he wake up?”

  Kizzie swallowed. “God, I hope so, Jesse, I really do.”

  Emory looked at the photograph of the man Dante put in front of her and felt a tug on a memory.

  “This is Luca Saffran. Before you were shot, before I met you, you were in a relationship with him. A romantic relationship.”

  She looked up at Dante and could see the torment, the regret in his eyes. “With Bree’s father?”

  Dante nodded. He sat beside her and took her hand. “I think it’s time we contacted him. Emory … I’ve been unfair. I should never have started this thing with you without informing you about your relationship with Saffran, and I’m sorry. I’m not sorry about our relationship, but God, if we are to be together, then I don’t want to hide anything from you. You deserve the chance to go back to your old life, if that’s what you want.”

  Emory’s emotions were in turmoil and she got up and walked around the room. Dante watched her, his eyes hooded and haunted. “Sweetheart, I promise, whatever your decision is us … I will respect it, even if it means…” He trailed off and shook his head. Emory went to him, sliding into his arms and kissing him.

  “You,” she said, making him look her in the eye, “are all I will ever want.”

  Dante shook his head. “Don’t say that, please, Emory. You loved him, and he loved you. If, when you meet, when you re
member how you felt, if you want that life … I won’t stop you.”

  Emory felt suddenly tearful. “Dante … I am in love with you. I fell in love with you of my own free will.”

  Dante kissed her. “I don’t doubt you, Em. My heart is yours, it always will be.”

  “Then let’s not change the status quo,” Emory said suddenly, her panic rising. “Let’s just stay like this, you and me…”

  “We can’t. I won’t have this hanging over us forever. You asked me not to let ‘him’ find you—you meant Raymond Grace—and I kept that promise. But there are other people out there, Emory, who care that you are alive. Who love you and in mourning. We have to do the right thing.”

  Emory got up and went to the window. She looked out over the grounds of Dante’s estate. She knew he was right, of course, she did. But she was scared. Scared of this bubble bursting. Scared that Dante would give her up because he was the most decent, kind man she’d ever met. She felt like Luca Saffran was a stranger to her. But you’re not to him. You’re his love. You’re not the only one in this.

  She returned to Dante’s side and sat with him. “Okay. Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

  Dante looked at her, his eyes sad. “I’ll set it up.”

  He stood, but she grabbed his hand. “Dante…”

  He pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her so passionately that her head swam. “Dante … I love you so much. Please don’t let me go without a fight…”

  Dante buried his head in her neck, and she felt his tears damp against her skin. “I promise,” he said simply. “I promise.”

  Luca Saffran had been working at his office from early in the morning to past ten at night. He functioned as normal in his business world and felt almost like his old self but when he had to go home—to eat, to bathe, to sleep—he felt the chasm of loneliness stretching out. He was terrified of forgetting his happiness with Emory, the love they’d shared, the fun they’d had together. She was drifting further and further away with every passing day. He had accepted now that they would probably never find her body, never get that closure. Clem, Bree, and even Maximo had been his anchors; after Maximo had revealed the story of his own lost love, he and Luca had grown closer, and Luca knew that Clem and Maximo were crazy about each other.