“The bedroom’s over here.” He followed her.
“Did you ever live here?”
“Briefly. Before I went to Peabody, Dad used to let us kids camp out here for a weekend, to pretend we were grown-ups. This is the bathroom.”
She leaned into the room and switched on the light.
Ethan gave it a cursory glance. “I’ll take it.” He smiled down at her. “You missed your calling as a realtor.”
Kizzie laughed. “I’m glad you like it. Make yourself at home. Let’s grab some sodas.” They snagged some cold cans from the refrigerator, went back into the living room and sat down.
“The neighbor is pretty quiet, but you might get some noise during the day. He keeps his life to himself, though.” Kizzie popped the tab on her can.
“Who is he?”
She shook her head. “No idea. Dad let the room to him a few months back. Will you be okay here?”
Ethan nodded, looking around. “I will, thank you. It’s a cool place.” He smiled at her shyly. “And it’s near you. That’s all I care about.”
Kizzie flushed, smiling. “Me, too, E. Me, too.”
Ethan reached over and took her hand, winding his fingers through hers, and they sat in a comfortable silence for a time. Ethan put his can down and pulled her gently over to him.
“Mind your stitches,” she fussed, but he gave a low chuckle.
“Just let me hold you, Kiz. I just want to hold you.”
She curled into his side, her head on his shoulder, his arms tight around her. Kizzie felt her heart thumping so hard she was sure he could feel it too. His lips were on her hair.
“When I was lying there, behind those dumpsters, waiting to die, there was only one thing I could think about … how I would never see your face again. It isn’t an exaggeration when I say I think that’s why I didn’t die. Something in me made me hang on, and I think it was you, Kiz. Your laugh—I kept hearing it, that breathless laugh you do when you find something hilarious. And even though I was in my darkest place, I thought, there must be good in this world for that laugh to exist in it. I’m embarrassing you, now, aren’t I?”
Kizzie’s tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “Ethan, I’m so sorry for not listening to you, for not being there when you needed someone, me. Promise me you’ll never do that again?”
Ethan pressed his lips to hers and kissed her until they were breathless. “I promise, my lovely Kizzie, I do. Whatever happens, I promise.”
Kizzie was reminded that Ethan still had possible charges held over him. It didn’t seem possible or seem right that he’d suffered so much and could still go to jail. She rubbed her nose against his. “If it happens, I meant what I said about that file.”
Ethan chuckled. “Baby, if I go to jail, so be it. You and I both know now that it’s not the worst thing that can happen to a person.”
“I will always be with you,” she said simply now.
“Thank you, Kizzie, for making me so welcome here. Into your life.” Ethan shifted a little, and Kizzie sat up.
“Are you in pain?”
“A little,” he admitted, suddenly looking exhausted. Kizzie stroked his chest, feeling the pattern of wounds under his T-shirt. The feeling made her stomach twist with sadness.
“Come on, you need to rest. The bed’s really comfortable.”
Ethan grinned, and she chuckled. “Don’t get any ideas, mister; you haven’t healed nearly enough for that.”
Grumbling, he followed her into the bedroom and begin to strip. Kizzie tried to not to stare when he pulled his T-shirt over his head, but when she saw the jagged scars, she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips.
“Oh God, Ethan,” she whispered. “How could you do that to yourself?”
“Hey, hey, hey…” He took her into his arms as she began to weep. “I’m okay, Kiz, I swear I am. They’re just battle wounds, just scars.”
Kizzie nodded and tried to collect herself. Without thinking, she pressed her lips to each scar. Ethan gave a little cough, and she realized that she was turning him on. His cock was hard against his underwear, and she couldn’t help but stroke the hot length of it.
“God, Kiz…”
She looked up at him, desire flooding through her. “Lay down, Ethan … I want to help you relax.”
His eyes were wide. “Kiz…”
“Ssh.”
He did as she was told and Kizzie gently freed his rigid cock from his underwear and took him in her mouth. Her tongue gently traced up and down the velvety skin, then circled the tip, feeling it quiver, hearing Ethan’s sharp intake of breath. He tasted of soap and salt, and Kizzie felt herself dampen as she pleasured him, listening to his moans, his calling her name. She brought to him to a shuddering climax, feeling his cock pumping hot, thick semen onto her tongue.
Ethan, breathless, was trembling but smiling. “Kizzie…”
“Don’t speak,” she whispered, kissing his mouth.
“Lay down next to me,” he said gently, and she obeyed, stretching her body out next to him. His hand stroked down the length of her then, only hesitating slightly before slipping under her dress, caressing her sex through her panties before his fingers slid under the elastic and found her clit. Kizzie moaned softly as he began to massage it and Ethan kissed her gently, his eyes never leaving her face as he stroked her. Kizzie let herself sink into the feeling of helpless desire as he brought her to orgasm, her soft cries the only response she was able to make.
Afterward, they lay in each other’s arms. Kizzie stroked his face. “Ethan, sleep now. I promised Jess and Bree I would update them on you. So if I’m gone when you wake, don’t be worried. I’ll come back this evening—if you want?”
Ethan, very tired now, smiled sleepily. “I’ll always want.”
Kizzie chuckled. “Me, too, baby. Me, too.”
Bree watched Kizzie walk over from Ethan’s place, which was opposite the coffeehouse. Bree started to smile, catching her friend’s eye. Kizzie raised her eyebrows at her friend as she walked into the coffeehouse and Bree grinned knowingly.
“And you can take that grin off of your face, Saffran.” Kizzie narrowed her eyes at her.
Bree held up her hands. “I don’t know what you mean. Oh, by the way … told you so.”
Kizzie rolled her eyes. “Smug. Just because my boyfriend is hotter than yours.” She grinned as Bree’s eyebrows shot up again and she laughed. She looked her friend up and down. “How are you? How’s the family?”
She saw a flash of pain in her friend’s eyes before Bree pulled her mouth into a smile. “Good.”
“Still no change in Emory’s memory?”
Bree told her that Emory had started to see a hypnotist to find out if she could recover some memory. “It kind of worked. She remembers practically everything—even some of the times she spent together with my dad. But she doesn’t remember being in love with him, and that’s what’s killing him.”
Kizzie chewed her lip, her eyes searching her friend’s face as she listened to her. When Bree finished, they sat in silence for a while.
Finally, Kizzie reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Maybe … it’s not a memory thing. Maybe it was what it was, and now it’s over. For Emory, at least. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but maybe … things change. People fall out of love with people for many reasons.”
“I know that.” Bree sighed, looking upset. “Can we talk about something else, just for a while?”
Kizzie smiled. “Why don’t you tell me how it is living with my brother again?”
Bree laughed, and her whole body seemed to relax. “Heaven. Home. I feel, finally, I’m home.”
Kizzie hugged her.
“I’m so happy for you. Truly.”
“Thank you, honey. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through these last few months without you.”
Kizzie grinned but then pushed her away. “Ugh, I suppose both of you will be revoltingly loved up now, all love notes and secre
t smiles.”
“Yup.”
Kizzie rolled her eyes, but Bree could tell she was delighted. “Where is my delightful brother, anyway?”
Bree’s smile wavered. “He’s with the police. They wanted to know more about the explosion and what caused it. Not that Jesse knows that, but they're thorough.”
“What about Nick Petersen?”
“He’s going to be charged with twelve counts of murder, at the very least. If he makes it. He’s still unconscious.”
“Did Zea Azano go back to Portland?”
Kizzie nodded. “For now, I get the impression she has something else going on in her life, and that it’s enough for her to know that David wasn’t in his right mind, through no fault of his own. Nick Petersen is a murderer; David was just his vessel.”
Bree blew out her cheeks. “I just want to know why. Why do something so horrific?”
“I hope we find out. Look, I said I wouldn’t be long—do you want to come back to Ethan’s while we wait for Jesse?”
Bree shook her head. “Thank you, but I think I’m going to see Emory and give her a break from memory training.”
“Give her and your dad my love.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Luca had gone to work. After a productive session with the hypnotherapist, Luca had been encouraged by Emory’s progress, but she felt numb inside. During the private session, she had come to a realization, sharing it with the professional. “I think it’s because I don’t want to remember loving Luca. I’m in love with Dante and loving Luca, too … it’s too much.”
She felt tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to be responsible for hurting one of these extraordinary men. Both of them … some women would think themselves lucky, and I am, to be loved by both but, God…”
“Emory,” the hypnotherapist said gently, “these are extraordinary circumstances. It’s not as if you had an affair or sought to hurt Luca or Dante.”
“I know, but I’m going to, aren’t I?”
“Until you let yourself feel what you had with Luca to the fullest, you cannot move forward in your life. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.”
Emory put her head in her hands. “Maybe I just need to be alone for a while. Figure things out.”
The woman smiled at her. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
She hadn’t broached the subject with Luca yet, but as she thought about it more and more, it seemed the best way forward. She knew Luca was frustrated, but he never once took it out on her. They had talked long into the nights, laughing, and Emory could feel a connection there.
But she missed Dante badly and on their long midnight calls, she begged him, “Let me come and see you, please.”
But he turned her down gently. “You have to be sure,” was all he would tell her. It hurt deep in her soul, but she knew he was right.
She drove out to the beach. The weather was cold, but she didn’t care, wanting the bracing air to fill her lungs, clear her head. Two glorious men loved her, and she was miserable about it. She definitely needed time alone. She had checked her bank account; there was enough to rent her own place for a few months, and she hoped, now, when Auburn reopened after the winter break, that she would be able to teach there again. Stephen Harris, the beloved headmaster, of whom Emory was very fond, had reached out to her when he heard she was safe. “You are greatly missed, my dear.”
Auburn had been open for a few months now. A memorial to those who had fallen had been dedicated on the school grounds, and Stephen told Emory that she, too, had been honored. “We’ll have to have a ceremony when you get back.”
“I’m truly honored, but please, no fuss.” Emory was horrified at the thought, and Stephen laughed.
“I know you, Emory; you wouldn’t be comfortable. Just know—this school owes you.”
Emory found a large piece of driftwood and took shelter against it. A new place, a new life, time to think. Independence. Since she had been married to Ray, she had forgotten what that was like.
God, Ray. She closed her eyes now, swallowing over the feel of terror that rose in her throat. He can’t touch you. He’s gone. Luca had introduced her to Maximo Neri, the handsome Italian businessman who Clem was madly in love with, and Maximo assured her that Ray would never be free again. “Either in one of your prisons, in my facility, or…” He trailed off, glancing at Luca.
“It’s up to you what happens to him,” Luca had told her, meaning well. But, God, another thing to decide.
Yeah, she needed breathing space. She would talk to Luca about it when she got back to his apartment. I need space.
I need to think.
He stepped back from the tree line. She was sitting against the driftwood again. The beach was deserted. He smiled to himself. How easy it would be to push her against that driftwood and kill her, let the tide take her body, her blood, away. Let Luca Saffran and that other man, Dante Harper, agonize over her disappearance. He shivered, lust mixed with excitement. Not today. He had too much planned, too many good things in mind for her. It would be a waste to end it all here. He didn’t even want to scare her yet; that would come later. It gave him time to follow and watch her from the trees.
It had been easy in the end to escape Maximo Neri’s men. Zeke had helped, and he’d trusted Ray right up to the time Ray had stuck a knife through his eye into his brain. Fucking moron. Ray felt no pity for the naïve young man. Four hundred million dollars. Ha. He’d watched dispassionately as Zeke’s body twitched and convulsed as it shut down, and bent over the dying man. “What college professor do you know who earn millions, you dumb sack of shit?”
Still, he was out; he was free; and Emory was in his sights. God, he had forgotten just how beautiful she was and now, she seemed sad, her lovely face pensive and haunted.
And it’s only going to get worse, my love. He would enjoy killing her. This time she would not survive his brutality. And not only that, but the people she loved, who loved her … he would take them, too, kill some and make others watch while he killed Emory. He allowed himself a fantasy of her stretched out on a bed, tied down, fucking her as he made Luca Saffran and that other asshole watch, then butchering her while they screamed.
Raymond Grace smiled to himself when he felt the cold presence of the knife he always kept now in the inside pocket of his jacket. How easy, how easy it would be … But not today, my darling Emory. Today, you live. Today, I allow you to live …
Make the most of the time you have left.
Jared Podesta reappeared three weeks after Zea and Flynt returned to Portland. Jared didn’t make himself visible to anyone but Zea … waiting for moments when she was alone. Even then, he didn’t come close; he would stand across the street from the new restaurant as it was being constructed and stare in through the large windows at her. As soon as she called for help, he would be gone. He was like a spider, waiting, lurking, hunched in a dark corner, and Zea felt trapped. Flynt insisted they go to the police, and he hired security teams, but Jared was clever. He even learned the way she drove home and stood on one of the overpasses, staring down at the road.
Zea was a bundle of nerves and worse, she thought she might be sick. She was exhausted, drained, and so far, was avoiding going to see her doctor. Eventually, a concerned Flynt made the appointment and took her.
He waited for her in the waiting room. Zea had to smile at the other women waiting—their expressions when they saw Flynt. Zea could have sworn one of them gave her a thumbs up.
My husband. She was still smiling when she went in to see the doctor, but a half hour later, she came out pale and trembling. Flynt took one look at her face and was up. “What? What is it?”
She shook her head. “Not here.” They quickly walked to a diner on the corner of the block and Flynt ordered strong coffee. He felt sick as he looked at her gray face.
“Baby, tell me it’s not what I’m thinking…”
“I’m not sick, Flynt.”
The relief hit him. “Jesus.
Jesus, thank you. You had me scared. So, what’s wrong?”
Zea looked at Flynt, this man she loved with all her heart, and could only feel heartbreak. Not now. God, please, not when this is still going on. “Oh God, Flynt.” And she started to cry. “It’s the worst time for this, the worst time. I’m pregnant.”
Kizzie squinted at Ethan as he came in the door. “What’s up? You were in a good mood earlier.”
Ethan’s face cleared as he focused on his love. “Ate a bug.” He grinned, and she laughed.
“Was this bug about five-nine, sleazy as all hell …?” She winked at him, and he was again amazed at her ability to joke about Nick. Ethan had been at the hospital all morning for a checkup, and he’d called Kizzie earlier, telling her that he was in the same part of the hospital as Nick Petersen. “He’s awake, apparently, and talking.”
“Stay away from him.”
“I will.”
Now, Ethan smiled wearily. “That’s the one.” He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her. “Hey, darling.”
She pressed herself against him. “Hello, my man.” They ignored the few customers grinning at them and kissed again.
“Today at Doogie’s Diner, coffee! Cupcakes! And a live sex show!” Bree announced to the shop as she walked in, grinning. Ethan and Kizzie broke apart, laughing with the other customers. Jess was behind Bree, and he hugged Kizzie.
When they sat, Jesse asked Ethan how he was doing. Ethan nodded. “Okay, yeah, thanks, man. A couple more weeks and I should start to get some energy back.”
He and Kizzie shared a look which made them both smile. Neither of them could wait until they could finally be together. He took her hand. “Thanks to the best nursemaid in the world.” He kissed her hand, and she chuckled.
“Mushy,” Bree complained, and they laughed. Ethan grinned.
“And I do have some other news. Jake called me at the hospital.”
Kizzie looked surprised. “Oh?”
Ethan hesitated, stringing out the announcement. “DA’s not pressing charges. I’m good.”
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