Sins That Haunt

by Lucy Farago

  The guesthouse had its own outdoor space. A wrought-iron guardrail prevented anyone from nosediving over the rocky cliffs should the awe-inspiring, unobstructed views of desert and mountain overcome your sensibilities. It was a little chilly this time of year and this early in the morning, but it was worth not watching the sunrise through glass. She snagged the large sheepskin throw off her bed and went outside. Choosing one of the chaises longue, she lay back and covered herself. It would take a few seconds, but soon she’d be toasty warm. She guessed she had about twenty minutes to wait. So she hunkered down and closed her eyes, inhaling the crisp morning air.

  “Move over, will ya?”

  “Go away, Noah.” She kept her eyelids shut.

  “But I want to watch the sunrise.”

  So much for enjoying the view. “Then grab your own chair.”

  “But you have a very warm blanket.”

  She looked up to see him standing over her. He wore baggy gray sweats, a well-worn undershirt, and a mischievous grin. The guy had never looked sexier. “Who says I want to share?”

  “Come on, Shannon,” he complained, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s cold.”

  “Then go inside.” No way did she want him that close to her. There’d be no repeat performance of Tweedsmuir. No matter how much her feet wanted to jump up and demand an encore, her head knew better.

  “Shannon.” He whined, actually whined.

  “You’re not funny.”

  “A little bit,” he said, lifting her blanket and forcing her to make room for him. Then he cocooned her in his arms and kissed her temple. “There, isn’t this better?”

  “Better for whom?” She’d planned to watch the sunrise, not come out here for a snuggle fest … as nice as it was. She burrowed deeper into his shoulder, more for warmth than how good he felt.

  He rested his chin on her head. “How’s the bruising?”

  “Okay. I think I was more stiff than anything. I borrowed Maggie’s hot tub and it seems to have loosened everything up. My neck’s sore and I was told to expect worse. The whole thing could have been worse. If he’d hit me harder …”

  “I could have lost you.”

  She tipped her chin up and saw him staring off into the darkness. “Noah?”

  He looked down at her, his eyes dark and moody as he ran his knuckles across her cheek. “I don’t give a shit about tomorrows. What counts are the todays. When I saw you on the gurney I was seventeen again. Alone, heartbroken, and desperate to have you back. Things have changed. We’ve changed. But I still care for you. And now I realize that will never change. You can put a country between us, but my feelings for you will never go away. I think I’m falling in love with you all over again.”

  Then he kissed her. Slowly at first, giving her time to accept what he’d said. In a day or two he might no longer feel the same, when the shock of her accident wore off. As a kid he never said anything he didn’t mean—he’d been logical to the point of driving her insane. So why was he not thinking rationally now? He couldn’t be falling in love with her. He didn’t know her, not anymore. But now, in this moment, she didn’t care. Because she might be falling for him too. And she’d end up heartbroken all over again. It didn’t matter. Life was full of heartbreaks so what was one more? She kissed him back.

  Light shone through her closed eyelids. “We’re missing the sunrise,” she said. “It really is spectacular.”

  “So are you.”

  She smiled at the silly compliment. “Look.”

  He tore his eyes off her and did as asked, turning his head toward the sunrise.

  The clear and once black sky gave way to cerulean hues and became the backdrop for bands of golden tinted mountaintops.

  “Doesn’t do a thing for me,” he said, returning to gaze at her. “There’s another shade of blue that knocks me on my ass every time.” He pressed his mouth to hers, and this time she didn’t make him stop.

  She wrapped her arm around his waist, drew him in as close as she could. She took his advice and didn’t worry about tomorrow. They had today. She wanted to go inside, but her body couldn’t take much of anything. So she didn’t protest when his hand crawled under her nightshirt and cupped her breast. And except for a deep moan, nor did he when she slipped her hands into his sweats and worked them down.

  Her panties found their way to the bottom of the chaise and his fingers played her like an instrument. Stroking, plucking, and strumming until faster than she thought possible, she sang the tune she knew he wanted to hear. She gripped the length of him in her hand and bit down on her bottom lip, riding her song until it ebbed into a hum. But his was one concert she wasn’t ready to end. Still vibrating from her orgasm, she lay over him, lingered in the feel of her wetness against his deliciously hard erection.

  “Shannon,” her name came out as a raspy plea.

  “Yes.”

  He yanked at her nightshirt until her breast pressed naked against his chest. “Slide down.” He grabbed her hips, ready to do it himself if need be.

  And as much as she wanted to oblige him, she wasn’t done. “You feel too good. Warm.” She kissed his chin. “Cozy.” She licked his jaw and flexed her hips over and over again. “Like … lying on top … of a silk-covered—”

  He pushed her down at the same time he thrust up. “Fuck yes.”

  She gasped. The man had serious size, and in this position every inch of him was a welcome intrusion.

  She was seated in the perfect position and with a few more pumps like that he’d have her singing all over again. And as much as he thought he had the advantage, he was wrong. She closed her legs and lay flat on top of him. She’d be torturing herself. She knew that. But wiping that you-want-me-and-you-know-it smug grin off his face would be worth it. She had him in a vice grip and every movement she made, he felt. She would too, but she forced herself to stay focused, to give him pleasure before letting go and taking her own. She lifted onto her hands and slid up and down his shaft. He wouldn’t flip her for fear of hurting her, and with her elbows now locked and her hips pressing into his there was no gentle way to free himself. He was hers.

  His breath quickened. His fingers dug into her butt. “Okay … enough.”

  “Aw,” she teased, “look who thinks he has control.”

  “I won’t be able to … oh God,” he said, throwing his head back. “Seriously, Shannon.”

  She wished she could say she felt sorry for him, but she didn’t. Every slide up and down his body brushed her nipples against his chest, creating almost painful peaks. Her breasts grew heavier and heavier with each pass, the tips aching for his touch. He was feeling tortured—join the bandwagon.

  “It’s too tight. If you don’t stop …”

  She’d oblige him, but only for a while. She parted her thighs, saw the relief on his face, and with a wicked grin clamped them shut with a squeeze that would have wrung water out of rock. She wasn’t a jogger like Maggie, but she knew enough to take care of her girl parts.

  “You’re killing me.” Gritting his teeth, he glanced down at her breast. His tongue darted out before he sank his teeth into his bottom lip.

  She arched her back, giving him more of the view he wanted. The blanket slipped off her shoulders and cool air touched her back. It was refreshing against her heated skin.

  With a low growl, he scooped his hands under her arms and pulled her flat on top of him. “Kiss me,” he demanded. And didn’t wait for her to comply. His said he’d had enough and was taking control. He was in charge now. As if.

  She pushed off him, straddling his hips. She grabbed the throw and covered herself, overlapping the ends across his bare chest.

  “I can’t see you,” he complained.

  “Really?” She started to ride him. “Does it matter?”

  “You’re not being fair.” His eyes closed on a groan when she swirled her pelvis.

  “I can stop if you like?” Her body throbbed in anticipation, eager for more. If he actually told her
to stop, she’d kill him.

  “You know, if I didn’t have to be careful with you …” Under the blanket he cupped her breast, flicking his thumbs across her nipples. “You’d be the one beneath me … begging me.”

  “Hmm.” She rolled her hips faster, loving his sudden quick breaths. It wasn’t the need to control that spurred her on. It was the need to please. Like him, she’d didn’t care about tomorrow. Maybe they’d give this, whatever this was, a try, him on the East Coast, her on the West. And maybe they could make it work for a month, two, perhaps even longer. But one thing was for certain: When next they parted, he was going to remember her with a smile on his face. “Well, I’m not beneath you. And in a minute you’re not going to care.” And neither was she.

  Chapter Twenty

  Careful not to wake Shannon, Noah left her bedroom quietly. Whatever it was they were starting—if they were starting—felt right. It might not be perfect, but it was enough to build on, if only she’d be willing to give it a chance. And that’s what he kept telling himself as he joined Christian in the kitchen. “Any news on West?”

  “He checks out,” Christian said. “He’s got a small practice in Plymouth, nothing fancy. He handles wills, powers of attorney, small claims, stuff like that.”

  “So we believe him?”

  “Until he gives us a reason not to. I’m not saying we trust him, but let’s presume Shannon does indeed have a kid sister and proceed with caution.”

  “Fair enough. Where’s Maggie?”

  “She went into the club. She doesn’t go in much these days. Ever since the story broke, the place has been flocked with tourists. She prefers to visit the girls at their apartments, but every once in a while she has to pop her head in.”

  “Yeah, I can only imagine. How did she deal with all that? Couldn’t have been easy, especially given how it all ended.” The memory, you’d think, would haunt her.

  “Wasn’t easy, not at first. But William Wright gave her back something she’d lost and she chooses to think of the incident as Shannon’s rescue. So it’s positive. When her mind goes to the killing she thinks of Shannon. There isn’t anything those two wouldn’t do for each other.” Christian held up the coffeepot in his hand and, with a nod from Noah, filled a cup and passed it to him.

  “Thanks.” He took a sip. “Can I ask you something?”

  “About that day? It depends on whether Maggie herself should be answering.” He set the pot down and headed toward the fridge. “Want something to eat? I’m making eggs man style.”

  “What’s man style?”

  Christian withdrew a couple of cellophane-wrapped steaks and tossed them on the counter.

  “Steak and eggs?”

  Christian grinned. “It’s no fun having a hearty breakfast with my wife. She eats like a bird.”

  He normally didn’t eat a full breakfast, but what the hell? “Sure.”

  Christian took out a frying pan and lit the stovetop grill for the steaks.

  “So about that day … I didn’t want to press Shannon for the details. She assured me she was over it, but just in case … I was hoping you could fill me in.”

  “I would’ve thought you read the file.” He went back to the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs.

  “I did. But it didn’t tell me what I wanted to know.”

  Christian pushed the eggs aside. “You sure? It isn’t easy hearing how the woman you love was held hostage by a serial killer.”

  Noah wasn’t surprised Christian noticed, having been trained by the FBI and then ICU. What was a surprise was that Noah hadn’t done a better job at hiding it. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Yes … plus Maggie filled me in on your history. And I’ll deny this if you repeat it, but she’s a great gal. She’s gorgeous … smart, and I see how these women are with each other. They’re loyal to the point of stupidity. My wife took on a serial killer to save her and I don’t doubt Shannon would’ve done the same. Her threatening to turn me into a eunuch would have been comical if I didn’t believe she’d do it. It’s hard not to like someone who would go that far to bat for a friend.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Wright tricked Shannon. He told her who he was, that he was Jason’s father and he had questions about his son. She knew Jason of course and, out of concern for him, buzzed Wright through the gates. But when she got her first look at him, she knew she’d made a mistake. By then it was too late. She tried to slam the door on his face, but he managed to get inside. He, uh … he slapped her around. She got away long enough to call Maggie. Her intention was to warn her. But in her panic it didn’t come out right.”

  “How so?”

  “She got out, ‘I need you. He …’ The prick was chasing her.”

  “She was scared.” It was a good thing the psycho was dead.

  Christian nodded. “With reason. But she wanted Maggie to notify the cops, not come herself. Not that it mattered. Wright wanted Maggie.” Christian took the wrappers off the steaks and sprinkled seasoning over them.

  He didn’t fool Noah. The man was still seriously pissed. “Then what?” he asked, forcing his own jaw to unclench.

  “Then he used her as bait, but you know that. It’s in the police report. What is it you really want to know?”

  There was a lot he wanted to know. How badly was she hurt? How slow did the fucker die? But he kept his question to one. “Do you think she’s over what happened?”

  Christian thought about it a moment before throwing the steaks on the hot grill with a satisfying sizzle. “Rare okay with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “I think she’s over it as much as anyone can get over something like that. She was moody this entire summer. Maggie tried to talk to her but wasn’t having much luck. I figured she was struggling with feeling helpless. But the day before you arrested her I saw a change. She told me to fuck off at least three times and meant it.” Heading to the cupboards, he took out two plates. “Now that was the woman who wanted to use my balls as an appetizer. Now I know about the blackmail. If he had tried something like that before the incident with Wright, things would’ve gone down a whole different path.”

  “Why?”

  “My guess is Lewis caught her when her defenses were down. She’d been victimized, her control taken away. She comes off as strong, tough, and for the most part I believe she is, but there’s a part of her that … I don’t know. She’s like a porcupine, prickly top, soft belly. Come to think of it, she’s a lot like Maggie.”

  “They’d tell you they aren’t anything alike. At least they used to. Maggie looked up to Shannon. She saw a survivor, a fighter. And in Shannon’s eyes Maggie was everything she couldn’t be, the selfless good girl. Did they tell you how they met?”

  “No. I assumed it was in school,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

  “No, they were hardly ever in the same classes. Maggie was in the gifted program and Shannon missed so much school, she struggled to catch up. That’s how she and I got together. One of the teachers saw through Shannon’s bull, figured there was a brain behind all the I don’t give a shit about my grades. No, they met when old man Dickinson tried to drown a bag of kittens.”

  “You’re kidding, right? Maggie said she came from a holier-than-thou small town.”

  “Every place has its deviants.”

  “Let me guess, they mounted a rescue?”

  “Maggie did the mounting, Shannon the rescue. When Maggie stumbled on him trying to get rid of the kittens, she called him on it. He wasn’t bright enough to realize he was butting heads with the preacher’s kid and had her by the arm. Shannon came along and, seeing the confrontation, decided what better way to test out her new motocross bike than to run him over.”

  “She took him out?”

  “She had the advantage of a rocky embankment.”

  “Where’d she get the bike from?” Christian turned the meat over and heated the other pan for the eggs.

  “JJ. He always came to town
with something. Toys, jewelry, clothes, and, when Shannon tried to refuse to help him, the food and medication for her mom that he’d held over her head.”

  “So even then he was blackmailing her?”

  “Ever since she was old enough to understand what it was he was asking her to do.”

  “Man, what a royal dick.” He cracked six eggs into the hot pan.

  “Yup. Kind of makes it fitting that someone tried to shoot his off.”

  “Maybe we need to take a second look at the women on that list. You want toast?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t normally eat this much in the morning.” The filets weren’t over-the-top in size but add three eggs and he’d be full until dinner.

  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” Christian plated the food and took a seat opposite Noah on the island. “Plus I can’t hit the gym on an empty stomach.”

  Christian wore scrubs and a loose-fitting T-shirt, but the clothes couldn’t hide the muscled man beneath them. “You work out often?”

  “Never know what Ryan wants me to do next.” He cut into his steak and took a bite, motioning with his fork for Noah to do the same.

  “That’s a great gym you have.” All the equipment in the pool house was state of the art.

  “I can’t take the credit for it. It was there before Maggie and I got married. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I fell in love with her.” He winked at Noah.

  Noah chewed, then swallowed his bite. “You guys didn’t have a very long engagement. In fact, you haven’t even known each other that long.”

  “True,” he said over the brim of his coffee cup, “but look at you and Shannon. Some might say you were too young to understand real feelings. And yet here you are, thirteen years later. She’s changed, you’ve changed, and you’re still in love with her. There aren’t any rules to love. Now eat before it gets cold.”