by Lucy Farago
She didn’t promise so he nailed her with the one thing she might understand. “Are you glad you’re not under JJ’s thumb anymore?”
“Obviously.”
“Do you like having control over your life?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” she said, starting to sound wary.
“It’s nice, right, not feeling forced but having choices?”
“What’s your point?”
“You’re smart. You figure it out.” He leaned back onto the couch, slung an ankle across his knee. “And before you answer, remember you love me. You haven’t said it, but I know you do.”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
“That’s true. But we won’t know until we try. If you truly don’t share my feelings, that’s one thing. But if it’s because you want to spare my feelings, that’s not your decision. I’m a big boy. Will it kill me if it ends? Probably, but what will hurt me more is being kicked to the curb by your deciding you know best. Let’s try writing a new chapter, not repeating the old one because you don’t have the balls to see it through.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my balls. This isn’t about that.”
“I think you’re scared.”
“Of course I’m scared. I’m scared your heart is going to get stomped on all over again.”
“I think you’re afraid your heart is going to get stomped on.”
“I can handle it. But get this through your thick skull.” She stood, hands fisted by her side. “I will not be responsible for your heart breaking.”
“Fine,” he gritted out and stood too. “I relieve you of that responsibility.” He sealed his mouth over hers. He’d have gone and hauled her flush against his body but that fucker who’d hit her car had done a number on her side. Too bad; he was in the mood for hot and dirty. She needed to know he wasn’t some dumbass seventeen-year-old whose emotions she had to babysit. He was a man. He’d take whatever this thing between them brought and deal with it—like a man. He drove his fingers into her hair and prayed she got the message. He wasn’t going anywhere. And if for some ungodly reason it wasn’t meant to be, he damn well was going to have a say in it. She didn’t get to dictate his life. Especially if she decided to write the ending before they’d barely started.
He wished like hell he could just toss her over his shoulder. Not that she was putting up much of a fuss. She wasn’t putting up any. Her tongue took on his with equal enthusiasm. But he wanted to do something manly. Stupid, and he knew it too, but shit, no guy enjoyed being treated like he was too dumb to know any better. So instead he settled for just picking her up and carrying her to his bedroom—his, not hers. He was going to love her until she couldn’t move. By the time he was done there would be no doubt in her mind that he wasn’t that kid she’d left behind, the one who’d wallowed in self-pity all those years. She was going to know and she was going to believe it, Goddamn it.
He set her down on the bed. With their mouths still clamped together, he began to work on the buttons of her blouse. He considered just tearing it apart, but she’d looked so pretty in it, he didn’t have the heart. Then again, every time she proclaimed he owed her one, he got a kick out of it. And for the pleasure of getting to her breasts faster, he’d gladly buy her a hundred blouses. But before he knew it, the last button came undone and he was able to slip the fabric off her creamy shoulders. He unlocked their mouths, too tempted to take her in, plus he had to remove his own clothes. She wore one of those half bras, demis women called them. The cups, or lack thereof, did a fantastic job of offering her flesh to him. And who was he to say no? He spread wet kisses across one luscious mound and then dipped his tongue into the bra cup of the other, drawing her nipple into his mouth. He sucked on the tip. At the sound of her throaty gasps, he sucked harder. When she arched her back he did the same to the other nipple.
He didn’t want to stop but wanted her pants off more. There would be a matching tangerine set, of that he was sure, and he wasn’t wrong. And it was sheer. She looked so fucking sexy, sitting on the bed, one knee bent, her nipples peeking over that amazing bra, that he was hesitant to move her. So he grabbed the pillows and lined them up behind her back. Then he pressed her gently down. Whoever Victoria Secret was, she deserved a medal. She’d delivered him a goddess.
He stared at the spot between her legs, wetting his lips. He hadn’t even touched her but saw she was wet. If that wasn’t an invitation to taste, he didn’t know what was.
“Noah? You have this … feral gleam in your eyes.”
“Yeah, I just got hungry; very, very hungry.” He met her gaze. At the sound of her breath catching, he had his cue.
He didn’t bother with the panties. Instead he lay flat between her legs and licked her. Soon the gauzy silk was drenched, but he continued to tease her and himself. Her hips moved to an erotic beat. She was going to come. So he stopped. Shannon groaned. He chuckled and slid his index finger under her thong and into her.
He got an “Oh God, Noah” for his efforts. A second finger slipped in and, with his other hand, he pushed aside the panties, getting his first real taste of her. Her hips did that sexy grind. He got so caught up in it, he forgot he wanted to tease her until she begged. Her orgasm was like a stroke to his hard-on. He’d done this to her. It wasn’t the seventeen-year-old who’d made her dig her heels into the mattress. That kid hadn’t wrenched a scream from her lips. No, that was him, the man determined never to be left behind again.
Before she caught her breath he snatched another pillow and shoved it under her ass. On his knees, he spread her legs even wider and drove himself home, the pleasure so intense, he shuddered. This wasn’t about sex, no matter how off the charts it felt. This was about owning each other, mind, body, and soul, until no obstacle mattered. He loved her, still loved her, and would always love her. And that was what this was about.
Chapter Twenty-two
Shannon cracked an eye open and went to stretch, then remembered it wasn’t a good idea, not after her car accident and certainly not after last night. What the hell was she thinking? How had she gone from ending things to doing the dirty until the sun came up? Prolonging the inevitable would only make things harder on Noah. He might not like it, but she’d had enough regrets in her life. She was the expert on regrets. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t do that to him. He could thump his chest and proclaim he was a man all he wanted, but she cared too much for him to break him again.
She’d slept restlessly, her thoughts and concerns for a child she’d never met, perhaps might never meet, a child she had legal guardianship over. And until a DNA test told her otherwise, she had a sister. Who the hell had the little girl and why? JJ was dead. If he’d hidden her in a boarding school, had he been trying to protect her? And had his plan backfired? Yesterday, when no one was around, she’d called West herself. She’d had to do something. The slimy lawyer had nothing new but agreed to messenger Cecilia’s school transcripts. She’d also left him her cell number just in case.
Quietly, she slipped out of bed. Grabbing her clothes off the floor, she snuck out of his room. Noah had always been a sound sleeper. It was how his parents nearly busted them when they’d fallen asleep in his car at the quarry. She’d awoken to birds chirping and the sun breaking through a purple sky. It took her a full minute to wake him up and another to find the car keys. That cut two minutes off his time to get home before his father’s six o’clock alarm clock sounded. He’d made it but barely.
Shannon took a hot shower, taking care to stretch slowly as her muscles warmed. Afterward she dressed in black leggings and a baggy cream-colored sweater and made coffee before heading into the living room to use the computer. Outside of Noah’s room she listened for movement or the sound of running water and heard nothing. He was still sleeping. After all his efforts last night, she could understand why. It was like he’d been on some kind of mission to see how many times he could blow her mind. She’d had to plead exhaustion to get him to stop. She grinned, recalling
in tingling detail the many ways he’d made her beg for more. The ass. She wasn’t stupid. She’d known what he was doing. But wanting to spend every second of every day in bed with him didn’t mean they’d have a forever.
Her butt had barely hit the cushions when someone knocked. She answered the door. Christian stood outside.
“There’s news.”
She stepped aside to let him in. Her heart leaped. “Cecilia? Did they find out who took her?”
“No, sorry. It’s about the file and who was responsible for your accident.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t that the file had lost its importance, but finding the kid was more so. She was out there, with God knew who. And that was only if the child was still alive. “And?”
“Cooper called this morning. They have a suspect in custody. I figured Noah might want to head down to the station.”
“Who is it?”
“I’m not sure. But you should know, he’s denying everything.”
“What’s going on?” Noah asked from just inside his bedroom door. He’d thrown on a pair of sweats and nothing else. He looked good, rumpled and freshly woken up. It would be hard to give him up. And not just because he was hotter than hell. Could she handle losing them both? A kid she’d never met and somehow had claimed a piece of her heart and the man who’d taken ownership of it years ago?
“Get dressed.” Christian nodded toward the door. “Cooper has a suspect in custody.”
“Who?”
“He doesn’t know.” Shannon grabbed her purse from off the couch.
“Five minutes. You coming?”
“Yes,” Christian and Shannon said in unison.
“No, Shannon. You stay here.” Noah pointed a finger at her.
She bristled, ready to tell him off when she heard Christian chuckle. “Too funny,” he snickered and walked out, shouting back, “I’ll see in you in the kitchen and Shannon … be gentle with him.”
She wasn’t going to be gentle with him. She wasn’t going to be anything with him. She didn’t have to be. Maggie had four cars and Shannon knew where she kept the keys. “See ya.” She’d made it across the patio and to the living room’s French doors when a hand clamped around her arm.
“Let me go, Noah.” Because of JJ, she had been screwed over yet again. She had every right to face the man who’d played with her life.
“This is not a good idea.”
“Too bad. His idea was worse.” She shook off his hand. She hadn’t realized just how mad she was about the whole thing. Maybe a part of her had still been thinking she deserved what she was getting. But she could’ve been killed.
“Then wait until I get dressed and we’ll go together.”
She stared up at him, debating whether to trust him or not.
“Cooper won’t allow you to talk to him.”
He was probably right. She weighed her options. “I’ll bring Maggie. He can’t say no to her.”
“This isn’t about his saying no to you. They don’t let victims confront their assailants. It’s just the way it is.”
“Why? It’s not like I’m going to run him over when I see him.” Maybe she’d take Maggie’s SUV.
The corners of Noah’s mouth kicked up. “I know you’re kidding.”
“Yup, that’s me. A real kidder. Okay, let’s go if we’re going.”
Noah gave her a wary smile before leaving. She watched as his half-naked body disappeared into the pool house. She tapped her toe, reminding herself she was a lawyer, and lawyers didn’t run people over. Maybe she’d take the SUV and a leave of absence. She could plead temporary insanity. God knew she had the family history for it.
He returned in time for her to reconsider her plotting for revenge. But it had felt good while it lasted.
*
Noah had parked Shannon’s butt with an Officer Stinson. The young cop had smiled congenially and offered her coffee, which she turned down for water. That was twenty minutes ago, and if Noah didn’t get out there soon, she was going to do something he’d regret. In his defense, he’d had to call Damon, and then of course his chief returned the favor. He was wondering what the fuck was going on and why the tail they’d put on John Hyatt had informed him that the man had been hauled into the police station for questioning.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Noah had told him. “I’m just as confused as you.” How the hell should he know why Hyatt had hired someone to grab Shannon’s file? And he couldn’t exactly go in there and ask him without alerting Santos to his real identity, now could he? He hadn’t exactly put it that way to his boss, but man, promotion on the line or not, he’d been tempted.
Noah was forced to watch the interrogation from behind a two-way. At least he’d know when they were moving Hyatt and be able to get to Shannon before the man saw her. So far the locals weren’t getting anywhere. It was infuriating.
“For the millionth time, I did not hire someone to hit this woman’s car. I don’t even know who she is.”
“Mr. Hyatt,” Cooper was saying, “we traced the money transfer. Not only was it from your bank but from your bank account. A bank account that, I might add, took us a while to trace back to you. You went through a lot of trouble to hide it.”
“That’s not a crime. Look,” he said, leaning his forearms on the table, “my wife and I were considering a divorce a few years back. I’m not proud of it, but I opened that account to … to keep my finances separate from hers.”
“You were stashing money in case she cleaned you out in divorce court?”
“Yes. She can be quite cantankerous when pushed. Anyway, we solved our issues and I completely forgot about it. I haven’t used that account in at least three years. You traced my account. Why can’t you trace who deposited the money to wire in the first place?”
“We checked. It was a cash deposit.” Cooper pulled a paper out of the file that lay between him and Hyatt. “Recognize this?”
Hyatt looked down. “It’s a deposit slip.”
“Right. See the signature on the bottom?” Cooper tapped a finger, indicating where the man should look. “It’s yours.”
“Yes, it looks like mine. But I made no such deposit.” He leaned in for a closer inspection and came up smiling. “Check the date, Lieutenant. I wasn’t in town when this deposit was made.”
Cooper flipped the paper around so he too could read the date. “Okay, where were you?”
“Tahoe. We have a cabin up there. We’re adding an extension and I needed to meet with the architect on-site.”
Man, this guy liked to spend money. Noah sent Damon a quick text to find out when the cabin was purchased and for how much.
“Why don’t you check the videos on the day of the deposit?”
“We did,” Cooper said. “However this deposit wasn’t made through one of the tellers.”
“Then check the ATM.”
“Mr. Hyatt, are you trying to tell me how to run my investigation?”
Cooper’s patience was starting to run out. They’d already talked to the tellers and checked the ATM. No one remembered anyone making the deposit and the records showed it hadn’t been made through a machine.
“No, I’m telling you I didn’t hire someone to run this woman down. It wasn’t me.”
Noah had heard this part before. As the police weren’t making any headway, he decided it was time to fill Shannon in. Surprisingly, he found her where he’d left her. She was flipping through a magazine when she spotted him.
“Thank you,” she said to Stinson, leaving the copy of Guns & Ammo on his desk and standing. “I especially liked the story on Duck Commander. Unique bunch of boys.”
Stinson smiled at her like a dog getting a pat on the head, completely missing her sarcasm. Poor slob. If he wanted to survive in the world, he’d better learn to read between the lines and not get distracted by a beautiful face. “Is there an office we can borrow?” Noah asked.
“Yes, sir. There’s a meeting room two doors down from interrogation.”
; “Thanks.” He held out a hand to Shannon. “Shall we?” Standing around out in the open wasn’t a good idea. Hyatt would be here for a while, but Noah wasn’t going to take any chances on screwing up his case.
He steered Shannon to his right, putting himself between her and the room that held Hyatt. Once inside, he shut the door.
“Well, who is he?”
“Shannon, I’m going to have to ask that you keep this to yourself. I know you will, but I have to formally request it.”
“Formally?” she repeated, averting her gaze. When her blazing eyes snapped back to him, he knew he was in trouble. “Are you fucking kidding me? You said Santos had nothing to do with the attempt on my life.”
“He doesn’t.”
“Formally means this has something to do with an ongoing investigation and the only ongoing investigation you’re involved with is Miguel Santos. International drug lord and God knows what else. What the hell did you get me mixed up in?”
“No, you have it wrong. Listen,” he said and pulled out a chair from behind a square conference table. “Sit.” He took a seat himself. “Sit,” he repeated when she remained standing. “Please.”
She sat, folded her arms, and crossed her legs. She was mad. She had every right to be, but he was positive her anger was misdirected. He hoped.
“His name is John Hyatt. He’s the chief financial officer for a bank here in town. My lunch date? It was with him. Remember, in Boston we talked about expansion?” He waited for her nod and continued. “We wanted Santos to think we were open to laundering money in other cities so we mentioned expanding. If Santos was recommending this guy, we suspected, like you just did, that he was dirty. He gave us a loan without bothering to blink at our financials, which had been done up to look like we’d be really stretching ourselves to handle another loan. We made sure no bank would want to touch us.”
“But he did?”
“We think Santos told him to play nice. We suspect he’s signing off on loans people can’t afford.”
“To help Santos? How?”