by Holly Hart
The wheels spin as Nate speeds away, tires smoking, not waiting for my answer. It’s a good thing. I’m not sure what to say.
We weave through traffic for what seems like forever, but can’t be more than a few minutes, before I reply. I rest my fingers on Nate’s arm. My tongue finally feels loose enough to speak.
“I’m good,” I whisper. “Nate –,” I pause. I don’t know how to articulate what I want to say. It feels like my tongue is stuck in a block of concrete.
“I –.” I fall short again.
“Don’t say anything,” Nate replies. He glances at me again, eyes swirling. I don’t understand why.
“I need to,” I reply.
“Thank you, Nate. I didn’t know,” I stammer. “I didn’t know whether I was going to make it out, back there. I didn’t know if you would understand what I sent you. I didn’t know you even cared enough to come.”
Nate chews his lip, it’s like my words are wounding him. He cuts a sharp left, as if to avoid having to respond to what I just said. The SUV roars down the side street, just like it did when Felix was at the wheel. Except this time, I feel safe. Nate’s here and nothing bad is going to happen. Not now.
I just don’t understand why he’s acting like this.
He seems to be on a hair trigger. It seems like anything might set him off, at any time. He stomps on the break, hard, and the SUV screeches to a halt. The seatbelt indicator is still chiming. I belatedly grab the belts to plug myself in, but Nate grabs my arm.
“I need to tell you something,” he says, his voice filled with pain. Nate grimaces, as though he has to force himself to speak.
“Can’t be that bad,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. Nate shrugs almost imperceptibly as if to say: just wait.
“This is my fault, Kim,” Nate says. He doesn’t look away; he focuses straight on my eyes. Whatever pain he’s living through, he’s not hiding from it. He’s taking responsibility. “All of it.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, scrunching my forehead. I try to stroke Nate’s arm, but he pulls away from my touch like he’s worried about getting burned. It hurts. I don’t get why he’s being like this.
“I…” Nate groans, closing his eyelids and hiding away those brilliant, ice-gray eyes. “Kim, I knew who you were the moment I met you. I wasn’t your next-door neighbor by chance, I organized it.”
Nate’s admission hits me in the gut. “What are you saying, Nate?” I choke. It’s hard to form the words in my mouth. It tastes like a betrayal.
“It was a mission. You were a mission. We knew that Landwolfe was moving money for the cartel. I never knew it would end like this, Kim. I promise you.”
I bite down on my lip until my eyes water. I don’t want to hear what Nate’s saying. All those hours in the cartel’s clutches, the thought of Nate was the only thing giving me the strength to fight. But now? It feels like he’s dragging the rug out from beneath my toes.
“Why?” I whisper. It’s my turn to close my eyes. London sounds quiet in the background, now. I know it’s not, but every sense is dull.
Nate pauses for a very long time before he speaks. It’s like he’s fighting something inside himself. “I’ll take you to a hotel, Kim,” he says. “I’ll stay with you – just tonight, and then I’ll call some friends of mine. They’ll keep you safe.”
My eyes spring open like they’ve got jet packs attached. Nate quails under the blaze inside them.
“Do you want me to slap you again, Nate?” I hiss. I’m pissed. I deserve an answer, not Nate running away from the truth. I’ve done it before, and I won’t hesitate to do it again.
“Tell me why,” I growl. I’m surprised my throat can produce a sound that deep.
Nate’s fist arcs out and collides with the dashboard. He’s trembling with emotion. His breathing is heavy. The longer I look at him, the more I realize I’m not angry with him. I don’t know why – heck, I should be. I should be more than angry, I should be furious!
But… I’m not.
“Tell me why, Nate,” I whisper. “Please. I deserve to know.”
Nate winces. Somehow I feel like that last line affected him more than I expected.
“Tony Fawkes,” he says.
“What?”
“The tattoo on my chest,” Nate says, his head drooping. “You asked me once who he was. I guess the truth is, he’s the reason I started all this.”
“Who is he?” I ask. The air feels heavy. I don’t know what Nate’s about to say, but I can sense how important it is.
Nate ruffles his hair. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, but he’s still the sexiest man I’ve ever set my eyes on.
“Tony,” he says, “was my friend. He died in Afghanistan. Car bomb. I saw it happen.”
Nate’s face goes dead as he speaks. It’s like he’s reliving his friend’s death all over again. My heart breaks for him, but I don’t understand why he’s telling me this. “I’m sorry…” I whisper.
Nate laughs. It’s a harsh sound. “Don’t be. It turned me into an asshole. I decided I wasn’t going to let myself make friends anymore or…”
“What?” I ask, drowning in the pain in Nate’s eyes. I want to reach over and give him a hug.
I figure that anyone who can feel that much pain about his friend can’t be all bad. Besides, Nate has shown me a hundred times that he’s definitely not all bad. He’s nowhere close. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Or fall in love…” Nate whispers.
The words hit me like a lightning bolt. It sounds cliché, but it only sounds that way because it’s true. This is one of those moments that stop you dead in your tracks. One of those moments where the truth reveals itself, it’s so honest; and so brutal that you can’t ignore it.
And…me?
I don’t know what to say.
I know what I want to say. I want to say the words right back at him, but my tongue’s stuck.
“Stay here,” Nate says, with his voice cracking. I don’t know what to do. Nate gets out of the car, and slams the door shut behind him.
Then my only companion is Silence.
I’m alone with my thoughts. It’s the last place I want to be. I wish I could lose myself in the hustle and bustle of London. I wish I could go and drink myself silly in a nightclub somewhere, and keep going until the dawn light breaks in the sky.
I don’t know how long I sit there, racking my brain for the answer. Heck, it feels like just a few seconds fly by before Nate returns. He opens my door, and offers me his arm. I take it without saying a word. I feel him trying to take his arm back, but I don’t let go. He doesn’t pull it away.
We walk, side-by-side, into a hotel lobby. It’s nothing special – a midmarket motel. It could be any time of day or night in here. My eyes blink under the sudden, unexpected assault of the overhead lighting.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
“I’ll stay with you, just tonight,” Nate says, answering around my question. “Then, like I said, I’ll get you to safety tomorrow.”
Does that mean you’ll leave?
The thought catches in my throat. I don’t want Nate to go anywhere. He walks me to a bank of elevators, and I follow him in without question.
Say something!
The elevator climbs two floors in the blink of an eye, and the metal doors slide open. I follow a couple of steps behind Nate. I’m not letting this happen. My mind is made up. He can say whatever he wants, but this time I’m getting my way.
Nate stops. He turns to face me. His hand drops down, and two sets of room keys jangle out.
“I got two rooms. It looks like we’re going to be neighbors again: one last time.” His face is straining. It’s like he wants to make a joke out of it, but doesn’t know if he can. That’s the Nate I know – not this apologetic version who’s taken his place. That’s the Nate I want.
“Nate, stop!” I say. My voice is hard, firm and uncompromising. Without realizing it, my
index finger is pointing out. I prod Nate in the chest. He gives way, just an inch.
I lick my lower lip. “You’re an idiot, you know that? I say, staring directly into those cool, gray eyes of his. Nate nods. I prod him again, and he backs away towards the wall, again.
“You really screwed up. Really, really, screwed up, you get that?” I prod him again, and Nate backs away again, but this time his back presses up against the hallway wall. There’s nowhere for him to go.
My skin crackles. Nate’s looking like he hasn’t got a clue what’s going on. I don’t blame him. I only just realized what I’m about to do.
I throw my body against his, snaking my hand up the side of Nate’s face. I press my lips on his, and kiss him – hard.
Our lips meet, and I almost melt. I pull away, just for a second. There’s one last thing I need to say. I look up, craning my neck to meet his eyes. “I don’t normally say things like this, but fuck you, Nate Foster.” The corners of my mouth kick up into a grin.
Nate closes his eyes, one last time. “About that…” He groans. “That’s not really my name.”
My eyes narrow, backing away an inch or two. “Do I know anything about you, Nate –?”
Nate, whoever-the-heck-he-really-is, holds out his hand. I put mine in his, suspiciously. My skin tingles wherever it touches his.
“Nate Fox,” he growls.
I knew it!
Nate damn Fox, the guy all the girls at high school wanted, pulls me into his body. He envelops me in a hug, and his lips drop to meet mine. And then, every thought in my head disappears. Everything that’s happened today, it doesn’t matter.
I hear the keys clink, and the door open, and Nate pushes me backwards, and I let him lead. It’s like a crazy, sexy, wild dance. Our bodies move in sync, as one.
Nate kicks the door closed with his foot, and leads me to the bed. Our lips are locked the entire time. He pushes me back onto it, and I fall, and he falls on me.
My skin is burning. I don’t know if it’s the stress of today, or what, but I need this. I need Nate’s touch. I need the feel of his skin. I need him naked, now!
Nate breaks his lips away from mine. He looks down at me with hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Kim.”
I shoot him a wicked, sultry grin. “I know.”
This time, I mean it. I don’t think I ever would have described myself that way before I met Nate. Whatever his faults, he did right by me in the end: more than right.
I don’t wait for Nate. I start undressing, unbuttoning my top as fast as my fingers will allow. Nate hurriedly joins in. He’s better at undressing me than I am. I don’t know how that’s possible. Scratch that – I don’t want to know how.
But I’m glad he is.
The air-conditioned cool of the room bites against my skin. Nate warms me up. He throws his jacket somewhere on the floor, and then his T-shirt, and then his skin’s on mine. We both smell like sweat: like worry; like people; real people.
Nate tugs my jeans off. I’m soaking wet. I’ve needed this for what seems like forever. I open my legs to him willingly, helping him strip my underwear away – but in reality, just getting in the way.
Nate’s fingers graze my sex, and a little moan of excitement escapes my lips.
“Don’t go slow,” I warn him. He doesn’t.
My fingers scrabble at Nate’s belt, and his pants fall away. My fingers drop to his burning cock, but he bats my hands away. Nate grabs my hips and pulls me up, lifting me like I don’t weigh a thing.
Nate lowers me onto his thick, huge cock. I’m so wet I slip down on to it like we were made for each other. Nate groans with pleasure. I can’t speak, I can’t even make a sound, because it feels so good. I bite the tattoo on his shoulder.
Nate digs his fingers into my ass cheeks and starts to thrust inside me. Little sparks of pleasure are already exploding. This doesn’t feel like sex – it feels like so much more.
“I love you, Kimberly Sawyers,” Nate says, pulling his head back and staring in my eyes. It feels raw, real, and animal; I know absolutely that he’s not lying. I don’t think he would dare – not anymore.
I gasp as he thrusts in me again, and again. My fingers tighten until I’m sure I must be grazing his back, and layering it with cuts.
“Say it again,” I moan. Stars are exploding behind my eyelids. I want to open them and stare into Nate’s gray eyes, but I can’t.
“I mean it, Kim, I love you, and…” Nate growls. The orgasm explodes across my body. My nipples harden to tight nubs of fire, like little suns on my chest. My pussy clenches around Nate’s cock. I’m hot, then cold, then hot again.
I sink back, and Nate lowers me onto the bed, crouching over me. Nate’s still hip deep inside me. I’m in a forest of his arms. I feel safe, and protected.
“I love you too, Nate, whatever-you’re-calling-yourself-this-week. I love you.”
Nate grins, and his lips get to meet mine again. His breath is hot against my face. “I’m not done…”
31
Epilogue - Kim
Eighty thousand dollars.
Say it again – slower this time. I’ll do it with you.
Eighty. Thousand. Dollars.
It’s the amount Boris transferred into my account when he was trying to set me up. It’s a whole hunk of a lot of money. It’s more money than I ever expected to see in one place, at one time, in like… ever. I truly never imagined nor expected it to be mine!
But as far as I can tell, it is.
Landwolfe never asked for it back; that’s for sure. The second the truth about what had happened came out, they went into full damage control mode. I can understand why. Their reputation was at stake. That $80,000.00 was dirty money. It was proof that bank employees had been laundering drug money, and they wanted nothing to do with it.
Landwolfe couldn’t wash their hands quickly enough.
Paragon – that company Nate had worked for – well, after he gave his old boss, Natalie a call and told them to track the cell phone he had slipped into Carlos’s jacket pocket … let’s just say they were more interested in following that trail across London, until they caught up with all three of the Mexicans underneath the railway bridge somewhere just past Clapham.
They didn’t make it.
Nate poked all kinds of fun at some guy called Ryan, but I guess he must have done some shooting practice; either that, or Nate’s more intimidating than he realizes.
The cartel never knew I had the cash anyway; the only person who did know was Boris, and Boris died outside the front of a convenience store in Hoxton, riddled with bullet holes. In all truth, I didn’t feel very sorry when I heard he had died.
So, because no one seemed to want the money, I kept it. Wouldn’t you?
Eighty grand doesn’t buy you a house; definitely not a house in London. Do you know what it does get you? An absolutely, unbelievable vacation; the kind to tell grandkids about! (I’ll say more on that later).
Actually, I’m not sure I can call it a vacation. If it lasts three months – does that still count?
The truth is, I wanted to keep the cash. You know what I’m like, after all. I tried to argue that it would be better saved: Setting up a 401(k); that kind of thing. Nate just rolled his eyes at me. He made a few calls before we booked our flights, and told me I didn’t need to worry about it.
Easier said than done!
But as I’ve learned – both ways – before, Nate has a way of getting me to trust him. So since it’s mostly worked out fine for me so far, I decided that – just this once – I was going to go with the flow.
We booked flights to Morocco. It’s an amazing country. I don’t know how to explain it. The whole place is crazy. It’s a riot of color. It’s so different from where I grew up back home that it doesn’t just feel like a different country, it feels like a whole different planet.
The market in Marrakesh is one of the wildest places I’ve ever been. Tiny little alleyways stretch out between store a
fter store – and men, mostly men – shout at you, advertising their wares. It’s not a scary place at all, but I sure felt safer with a guy like Nate by my side.
We headed down to the beach in a town whose name I can’t pronounce, in an area whose name I can’t remember. It doesn’t matter. It was the kind of place that will linger in my memory forever, even if all I remember is that Nate was by my side. We checked into a quaint little beach house, woke when the sun hit the horizon in the morning, and went to bed when it got dark; or we would lie outside underneath the stars instead and talk until the sun was tickling the sky again.