Follow the white pebbles

by Lillian Summers

  “I understand, Lizzie, but now you are a very rich woman, as I said,” he persisted. “Why would you need to steal again, when you can have everything?”

  She laced her fingers together and stared down at them, oblivious to the fact that his gaze followed hers to rest on her reddened, calloused hands. “If you lived like I did for eighteen years,” she murmured, “you wouldn’ take any damn thing for granted.”

  Justin stared quietly at her for a while, his heart suddenly filled with a tenderness he couldn’t explain. It was not pity, or the impact of the words he’d just heard. It was the discovery that his wife had a warm, yet tortured soul. She was as fragile as one can be, in spite of her rough exterior. Somewhere beneath her belligerent exterior there was a bleeding heart and a hurting past he could not even begin to understand. He had behaved horribly with her from the start. This was in fact the very first time he had exchanged words with his wife more than ‘good night’. He’d never even asked ‘how was your day?’

  “All right. I’m going to return this wallet to my head of security,” he said gently. “Just try not to do that again, would you? There are ways to secure tomorrow, you know? I mean, to make you feel secure about it.”

  Her gaze shifted once more toward the knot of his necktie.

  “You could, for instance, open a bank account in your mother’s name or Johnny’s name for that matter, and deposit in it any amount you wish. Millions. Tens of millions,” Justin continued. “You could take cash from our bank account and give it to them, hide it somewhere, do whatever you feel comfortable with. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds good,” she nodded slowly. “It’s just that it’ll take damn long for the nightmares to go as well.” And with that she stood up and left the room.

  Justin followed her once again with his gaze as she walked along the corridor toward her study, her display of defiance all gone. His wife was a woman with a mind and soul. Nothing like the socialites who warmed his bed and had the brains of a toad. The beauties and the beast. He shook the thought out of his head and walked to his main study.

  Brian Hornsby was pacing the room, his face still visibly red. He turned significantly redder when he saw the wallet in his boss’s hand.

  “Here it is, Hornsby,” Justin held it out with the tips of his fingers. “My wife told me she tested you, and is very displeased with your lack of awareness. She said it is very unsatisfactory that a professional like you wasn’t able to realize that an amateur like her pulled the wallet out of your pocket.” He stopped to look at his employee with a piercing stare.

  Brian paled. “But, sir…”

  “And I couldn’t agree more with her,” Justin continued. “You are trained to face every possible situation, and my wife just made you look like an idiot. Go and work on your skills, Hornsby,” he shooed his head of security away.

  “Sure! My apologies, Mr. Winters,” Brian started backwards toward the door.

  Justin dismissed him with a curt nod and returned to his computer. The screen lit up in front of him, and with it the password window appeared. He didn’t see it, too absorbed by his own thoughts. He hadn’t stuck up for his wife just to wash away the shame, nor out of perfunctory duty. He had done it because a part of him, deep down, had been telling him it was the right thing to do it. And it had felt really good.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Krissie looked up in fascination at the iron fire escape, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “I’ve always wanted to climb one of those,” she said.

  “Wanna do it?” Lizzie nudged her in the ribs.

  “Maybe next time, if I remember to wear sport shoes and jeans.” Krissie dropped her hand after taking one last look.

  “Ok. Let’s see my Momma.” Lizzie opened the door to the apartment building.

  Krissie followed her upstairs, taking her time to stare at every chip on the wall.

  “Don’t judge, okay?” Lizzie muttered over her shoulder.

  “Oh, no. I’m not,” Krissie shook her head, following close behind. “I find it really interesting. I’ve never seen graffiti so beautifully drawn. Those people are artists.”

  “Dunno what the hell you’re talkin’ about. You just stared at a damn stain of blood. My neighbor cracked his head there when he was drunk as a skunk.” Lizzie shrugged as she opened the door to her Momma’s apartment.

  The smell of fried bacon and onions tickled their nostrils as soon as they walked in. Susan had her back turned on them, her entire body dancing in rhythm with the hand that was stirring the meal with a wooden spoon. The sound of the door closing behind the two women made her look over her shoulder.

  “Jimmy, my girl.” Her face lit up. She pushed the fry pan away from the flames and rushed to grab Lizzie in a big bear embrace. “You’re showin’ up every blue moon since you married that rich guy.” A frown creased her forehead. “Are you that smitten with him you forgot your own Momma?”

  A sudden blush heated Lizzie’s cheeks. “The hell I am,” she mumbled.

  “Oh, yes she is.” Krissie nodded forcefully. “I’m Krissie, Justin’s little sister.” She extended her hand.

  Susan looked her up and down for a moment then pulled her in a tight embrace too. “You’re such a fetchin’ girl,” she said. “Glad you came, Jimmy loves you.” She turned to stare at her daughter with inquisitive eyes. “So, you’re taken with him.”

  Lizzie puffed her cheeks and let the air out in an exaggerate sigh. “He’s too damn gorgeous for my own good,” she admitted. “But he don’t give a shit about me. Too busy walkin’ around to slip his hands under some tart’s skirts.”

  “Then he’s so dumb, he could throw himself on the ground and miss,” Susan decreed.

  “That he is,” Krissie agreed, giving her head a shake of disbelief.

  “Maybe you should start wearin’ a skirt too.” Susan raised an eyebrow, staring at her daughter.

  “Hell no,” Lizzie uttered with indignation.

  “She should wear some, shouldn’t she?” Krissie concurred with Susan. “That’s an excellent idea. I shall give it some thought.” She started to look Lizzie up and down as if she were already taking her measurements.

  “The hell you will,” Lizzie exploded. “You ain’t turnin’ me into a sissy.”

  “Do you mean, am I one of them?” Krissie leaned forward to purr next to her ear, suggestively running her hand down her own body along the contours of her clingy dress, without touching.

  “All right, you two,” Susan cut over, clapping her hands. “You better go see Johnny till’ I finish cookin’ his lunch. He’s always so hungry that one. Come on, go, go,” she shooed the women out of the room toward a short, narrow hall. “An’ be careful with this girl around Johnny,” she called from behind, tipping her chin toward Krissie.

  “Don’t worry, Momma, I’ll be there,” Lizzie replied over her shoulder. “Come see my room.” She opened a door on the left, waving her hand to show Krissie inside.

  Krissie’s gaze swept the closet-sized space with an inner pain that strangled her but didn’t show on her face. The entire floor was covered by a double bed mattress at the end of which a cabinet without doors was crammed against the wall. There was no room to step foot anywhere other than walking on the makeshift bed.

  “This is where Momma and I used to sleep before the accident,” Lizzie said quietly. “Now she sleeps here alone. She must feel like a queen on a mattress this damn big.”

  Krissie stared at her in silence. Lizzie desperately missed her Momma, and her outrageous poverty, the creaky floor and the musty odor that hovered in the air in the building’s corridors. She missed every part of what had been familiar to her for eighteen years. Maybe there were many things that Lizzie was trying hard to tuck at the back of her mind, painful memories that kept oozing out from her every pore, no matter how much she tried to hide them. But deep down, Lizzie was suffering for being reborn in a strange, different world she couldn’t grow used to.

  “The bathro
om is right there.” Lizzie pointed to a door at the end of the hall without moving. “And here is Johnny’s room,” she said, pulling at the handle. She pushed Krissie in with a nudge on her back.

  The room was just as big as Momma’s, with an identical cabinet on the wall, but there was enough space to walk around because the mattress was single sized. Right next to it, a man was on the floor, doing rapid push-ups. He only wore a pair of tight fit microfiber pants, showing the firm, well-formed musculature of his legs.

  Krissie found herself staring at him, drinking in his muscles that flexed with every rise and lowering of his body. An image of him doing that on top of a woman’s body flashed through her mind.

  He suddenly stopped what he was doing and started lifting himself up to his feet, his head only inches away from Krissie’s legs, taking his time to swipe her calves and her knees with his gaze on his way up. It felt like it scorched her skin.

  She suddenly found herself facing a man a foot taller than her, struck dumb. Eyes as dark as midnight stared down at her, bearing an intensity in their depths that went right down to the bottom of her heart and made her shiver. His hair descended in rebellious waves down his nape stopping at his shoulders. There was the unmistakable Indian imprint on each of his features, innately proud and palpably dangerous. A dormant panther ready to spring. His bunched muscles were covered with a fine sheen of perspiration, making his coppery skin glisten. The heady scent of him, spicy and bitter, hit her nostrils, making her flare them to take in some more. All male, raw, primal. Arousing. Her head started to spin.

  “Hey, Johnny.” Lizzie greeted him with a solid slap on his shoulder. “I brought my sister-in-law along to see you. Krissie, here’s my brother, Johnny Benally.”

  “I’m Krissie Winters.” She extended her hand, an imperceptible shiver running through her at the anticipation of his touch.

  Johnny took her fingers in his callused hand, pulling her toward him only so slightly, his intense gaze never leaving hers. “You smell good,” he said, flaring his nostrils just as she had done before. “Let me think… Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel.” He tipped his head to one side questioningly.

  She took an abrupt breath in, staring at him astounded. Her gaze dropped to his hand. He hadn’t let go of her fingers.

  “Tsk-tsk! You didn’t expect some scum like me to recognize a fancy fragrance.” He cocked an eyebrow, pulling her another inch closer to him.

  “I… didn’t mean…” Krissie started miserably.

  “I’m lucky I have a very healthy ego, otherwise I would be devastated,” Johnny kept going, ignoring her denial, amusement lurking in his eyes.

  Lizzie hit him in the shoulder with her fist. “Hey, don’t be hard on her, she’s not made out of steel,” she laughed.

  Johnny dropped his gaze to Krissie’s feet and commenced a meticulous ascent, inspecting every inch of her. She was wearing a cream dress that hugged her body, showing every one of her lines that curved in all the right places. A long-legged Amazon woman with a J Lo backside.

  “I can see she’s not.” He nodded appreciatively.

  Krissie flinched at his words. Her gaze shifted from Lizzie’s face to his. “You are quite infuriating, you know?” her face darkened a little.

  “So I’ve been told many times,” he admitted nonchalantly.

  “All right, guys.” Lizzie grinned. “I’ll go see Momma until you get to know each other a little better. Johnny, behave, or I’ll beat the shit outta you,” she threatened and walked out the door before Krissie could word her opposition.

  An awkward moment of silence lingered in the room until Krissie realized he was still holding her hand. She jerked it away.

  Johnny smiled. “Sit down,” he invited.

  Krissie looked around for a place to sit. There was only the mattress, which meant that she would either have to spread her legs outwards or to draw her knees up giving him a good view of her upper thighs.

  “No, thanks.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, oblivious to the fact that her gesture pushed out her breasts and deepened her cleavage.

  He kept staring at her with those dark, intense eyes that blazed a hot trail right to her womb. A pleasure she simply couldn’t explain slid sensuously across her skin wherever his burning gaze was roaming, sinking deep, thrumming through her veins, both maddening and inexplicably arousing.

  “So, what kind of work you do?” she felt the urge to say something before her face betrayed her thoughts.

  His gaze didn’t change its intensity. “Whatever comes up. I work in a mechanical workshop. I do deliveries. I fight every now and then,” he replied.

  “Fight?” she exclaimed.

  “Yeah, for money. You know, people gamble,” he explained.

  She blinked at the casual tone of his voice. “What else are you doing with your time?” she queried, suddenly feeling she was about to run out of questions. He was way too intimidating, and the short distance between them wasn’t helping.

  It must have been her imagination, or he really slid another inch toward her, as slow and smoothly as a panther ready to attack.

  “I might just consider going out with you,” he murmured, burning her gaze with his.

  She felt scorching flames blast through her bloodstream, lodging in the pit of her stomach. “I got to go,” she almost snapped, whirling on the heels of her stilettos to reach for the door handle.

  He pressed his palm on the door holding it closed.

  She gasped and turned around to face him, her back flattened against the wood. “What are you doing?” she almost whispered, glancing over her shoulder with wide, panicked eyes, as if she could see through the door.

  He braced his hands on the sides of her head and leaned forward to brush his lips over her ear.

  Liquid heat pooled in her core, sending wave after wave of insane desire through her. She desperately wanted a complete stranger.

  “Do you want to know what I want to do?” he whispered, while his lips kept feathering over the lobe of her ear, sending wild shivers through her body.

  “No, I don’t.” She pushed back against the door, wanting at the same time to strain against him.

  He tipped her chin up and searched her face with his dark eyes then his mouth came down on hers, stealing her breath. There was nothing tender about his kiss. His lips pressed possessively over hers, scorching in their path. He dropped his hands from the door and cupped her face to bring her closer. She felt the tip of his tongue drawing on her lower lip, coaxing her to part for him. When she did, he delved inward and started stroking and rubbing sensuously, sending shivers in a tumultuous dance along her spine. He kissed her like he owned her, with a dominance so arousing, it made her moan.

  She was crushed in the arms of a complete stranger, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. Moreover, he was Lizzie’s big brother. Sudden awareness sizzled through her mind, and she started to struggle.

  He peeled away from her, grabbing her arms when she staggered on her feet.

  “Let… let go of me,” she stuttered.

  He raised his hand to stroke his thumb over her bottom lip. “I will, for now,” he replied.

  Krissie turned around abruptly and reached for the door handle once again, tugging hard at it.

  “Susan will be away for the day in two weeks’ time. She’s working every second Wednesday, she does the laundry for a family in Bronx,” Johnny said. “Come and see me then. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  She stormed out the door, her head spinning like a merry-go-round. “I won’t come,” she spilled out the words over her shoulder without stopping.

  He stood in the doorway, watching her shapely body move with grace along the narrow hall. “Oh, yes, you will,” he murmured and closed the door behind him.

  Krissie came to an abrupt halt in the small room that served as a dinning place and kitchen. Susan was still busy cooking something that smelled mouth-watering, while Lizzie was twittering non-stop about some childhood me
mories.

  “Uhmmm.” Krissie cleared her throat a little. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think it’s time to go.”

  Susan and Lizzie both turned around to stare at her then stared at each other. It may have been her imagination, but she thought for a moment that there was a knowing look on their faces.

  “Okay then,” Lizzie said. “I’ll stop by some other time, Momma.” She hugged Susan and squeezed around the table toward the entrance.

  “Make sure you do, Jimmy girl.” Susan waved with the wooden spoon. “An’ go visit your parents too. They miss you a lot, you know?”

  “They’re not my parents, damn it.” Lizzie frowned. “You’re my Momma, and you’re all I’ve got. You and Johnny. There’s no other family. Got it?”

  “Oh, yes there is.” Susan planked the back of her hands on her hips, sending Lizzie a menacing look. “Poor Madeline’s been crying like mad since you left. An’ Arthur is not how you said. He’s a good man, that one,” she raised her voice.

  “The hell he is,” Lizzie lashed out. “I don’t give a damn ‘bout ‘em.”

  Susan’s face darkened. “Well, if you give a damn ‘bout me an’ Johnny, then you better pay your parents a visit,” she said.

  “Why’s that, Momma?” Lizzie raised her chin in defiance. “Did they threaten you with somethin’?”

  “No they didn’t. You know me better,” Susan replied indignantly. Her gaze turned tender the next moment. “Listen to your Momma, Jimmy. Go pay them a visit. Won’t hurt nobody.”

  “All right,” Lizzie muttered and opened the door.

  “Come again, girl.” Susan waved at Krissie with the wooden spoon.

  “I sure will,” Krissie replied, waving her hand in return.

  Silence fell until the two young women reached the sanctuary of the limo. Only then did Lizzie open her mouth after eyeing her sister-in-law for a few long moments. “He kissed you, didn’t he?” She grinned.