"What's wrong with that?" he shouted. "This country was built by people who wanted to do better."
"Those people waited, Kevin. They went out each day and they worked at their craft. They didn't try to trick people into thinking something that wasn't true."
"It was true."
"It wasn't true then." Duncan took a deep breath. "It could have been. You were the best I'd ever seen. I admired you. I wanted to emulate you, learn the way you did. You had a natural ability far better than mine to see things, translate words and concepts into images."
Kevin smiled. "It won't work, Duncan. Too much water has fallen for me to ever think that your kind of praise could be anything more than getting me to release this woman." He jerked Aurora's arm. She screamed and Duncan started for her. The gun came up. Kevin placed a shot at his feet. Duncan stopped.
"Duncan!" Aurora called. She knew he'd been hurt. She reached for him. Kevin restrained her. "I'm all right," he said.
"It's not him I'm after," he said coldly. "I want him alive. I want him to feel the pain, to experience every minute of his future. I want him to know what it's like to be confined to a tiny cell with the stink of urine and nothing to do but count your lifetime away."
"Don't you see this isn't going to work?" Aurora questioned. "They know who you are. They know where you are. If anything happens here tonight, Duncan isn't the one they're going to go looking for. It'll be you."
He looked at her as if he wanted to kill her. She glanced at Duncan, knowing he'd lunge for him if he made a move. She was in no position to do anything. If she tried anything he'd have time to shoot one of them. She needed to wait for an opportunity. Since Duncan arrived he'd had another person to concentrate on. It was harder for him to keep them both in line.
She knew Duncan was thinking of her. She wouldn't do anything to harm him and she didn't want Kevin to shoot her. At the moment the best thing to do was wait and keep him talking.
"Don't you worry about that," he sneered. "Soon all your worries will be over."
Duncan put his hands out in front of him. "Don't do anything stupid, Kevin. We can still walk away from this."
"Drop the gun, Baldwin." She heard Coop's voice from somewhere in the audience. It startled them all, but Kevin reacted first. He grabbed her from behind. His arm circled her neck and pulled her against him. The gun pressed against her temple. Aurora wondered if she would hear the bullet when it ripped through her brain. What was dying like? she wondered. What was it like to kill someone from this close range?
"I told you no cops! I told you I'd kill her."
"Don't do it, Baldwin. Nobody needs to die here today," Coop reminded him.
"Die! I'm already dead, and it's his fault." He nodded at Duncan. "If it weren't for him, I'd be on top. Hollywood would be considering my work, not his. He doesn't have the vision, the skill, the downright nerve to do what I can do."
Kevin got passionate about his abilities. He screamed at Duncan and Coop. The gun pressed closer to her head, but every now and then he relaxed his hold.
Aurora studied Duncan. She wondered if he remembered the karate move he tried to teach her that night in his office. She wondered if she remembered it well enough to execute it now. It was the only one she'd ever learned. Kevin was taller than she, heavier. Could she use his weight against him, could she throw him over without giving him time to get a shot off? She didn't know, but she was going to have to try. She'd wait until the time was right, when neither man was in the line of fire. Unless he decided to kill her first
Aurora worked with him, like learning to ride a horse. She felt his rhythms, read them. She knew how long it took between his moving the gun and bringing it back again.
Duncan was giving her signals. She tried to read them but she couldn't concentrate on him and Kevin at the same time. She watched Duncan's eyes for a moment, then signaled him. Imperceptibly, he shook his head. She signaled again, and again he told her to hold. She had to go back to what Kevin was doing. He had the gun, and Coop wasn't getting anywhere with him in conversation. She only hoped both men would be ready when she made her move.
"I want you out of here," Kevin was saying. "I warned you, Duncan. I warned you."
"Stop," Duncan pleaded. "Think, Kevin. There's a cop standing here. If there's one there's more. Do you think you can get out of here alive if you kill her?"
Aurora felt the indecision in his body. The gun pressed against into her flesh. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn't sure he was rational any longer. His losing his hold on reality would be the worst thing. She had to keep him believing they both could survive.
"Kevin, it's all right," she soothed him, using her hands to tell Coop and Duncan the situation was too volatile and needed to be defused. "We need to talk it out. We need to—"
"I want him out of here!" he shouted at Coop. When he did that he used the gun and his free hand to point at Coop. Aurora made her decision. As she screamed Coop's name, she grabbed the arm with the gun in it and pulled it down. Using her foot she stomped the heel of her shoe on his foot and jabbed the elbow of her other arm into his ribs. Then she stooped and using ever ounce of her hundred and ten pounds pulled his feet out from under him.
Duncan lunged toward Coop, pushing him out of the way as the bullet discharged from the gun. Aurora rolled away from Kevin. In the split second before Kevin regained control Duncan rushed the stage and kicked the hand holding the gun. Kevin screamed in pain. He turned over and reached for the gun he'd lost.
"I wouldn't do that," Coop said, pointing his own gun toward the man on the floor.
Aurora lay curled in a ball against the chair she usually occupied when she did the show. Duncan rushed to her, pulling her into his arms. She clung to him, calling his name, running her hands over him, up and down his arms, making sure he was there, unhurt, that no blood came from any part of his body.
"That was a bold move, Lady. He could have killed you." They both looked at Coop.
"He could have killed us all. I had to do something."
"I'm never teaching you any more moves," Duncan said. "I thought I was going to die of heart failure when you signaled. I knew what you had in mind."
"I was betting my life you did," she told him.
Suddenly the room was full of policemen. Aurora didn't know where they came from. Duncan helped her up as Kevin was being led past her.
"Wait." The uniformed policeman stopped. "The pearls," she said. "Why did you give me the pearls?"
Kevin moved his gaze from her to Duncan. "Dripping with Pearls," he said, then laughed and walked away.
She twisted around to look at Duncan. Coop came up behind her.
"What did he mean?"
"It was part of the message he embedded in his film. It urged people to see Dripping with Pearls when it was released in theaters."
Aurora laid her head on his chest. Duncan's arms tightened around her. "I'm glad it's over," she whispered.
"Me too," Duncan told her. "My heart can't stand your heroics."
By the time they finished with police procedure and Duncan drove Aurora home, dawn's cracked-gold fingers streaked the sky. Aurora looked up as she got out of the car. Duncan took her hand and said nothing. He led her to the door and they went inside. She was exhausted. Her insides still quaked from the past few hours.
He turned her into his arms. "You should take a bath and go to bed," he said.
She smiled. "You told me that the first time you brought me home." She laid her head on his chest.
"It was good advice."
He looked at her. His eyes were tired, too. She reached up and smoothed his forehead. She liked touching him.
"Come on, I'll help you." He took her hand and turned her toward the stairs.
"Are you going to take one with me?" she asked.
Duncan stopped and stared into her eyes. His face softened. He planted a kiss on her mouth and went the rest of the distance up the stairs.
In her room Aurora sat on the bed,
her arms wrapped around one of the four posters. She heard water running in the bathroom. Duncan came to her. His jacket and tie were missing and his shirt was gone. She raised her head, letting her eyes move slowly up his torso. When she reached his face her mouth was as dry as a desert.
He offered a hand. Her arm felt heavy as it raised to meet his. She put her hand inside his and he pulled her to her feet. Walking backward, he took her into the bathroom. She smelled the sweet air tinged with her bath salts. Duncan didn't move to touch her or kiss her. He slid the zipper of her dress to its base and let his hand fall away. The dress slipped from her shoulders. She watched it pool at her feet like a dark green puddle.
Desire flooded his eyes. She stood straight, allowing him to look at her. Her body was aroused. She ached for his touch. He reached behind her, unhooking the bra. Her breasts felt heavy as the confining fabric was released. She let her head fall on his shoulder and she kissed his heated skin. A shudder went through him.
Then he was sliding her stockings down her legs one at a time. Her panties were last then he assisted her into the hot water. It felt good against her skin. She stood, waiting. Duncan removed his clothes and got in behind her. They sat. He cradled her in front of him in the huge tub.
Her body had no resistance, no will of its own. She closed her eyes. He used the sponge, dripping water over her, brushing it down her arms and over her breasts. Then he washed her hair, his strong hands gentle against her scalp. Aurora felt no more able to help herself than a piece of pliable clay.
When he finished he pulled her back and wrapped his arms around her. They lay that way in the hot water, body against body, artist and sculpture, friend and lover. She closed her eyes and refused to think, to remember. This was the only moment in time she would allow in her mind. His hands moving gently, the lapping of the water, the smell of bath salts, and his solid body holding her.
The water cooled all too soon. Aurora was content to lie like that forever. Duncan stood and pulled her up. Water shimmered down their bodies as they stepped from the tub. He wrapped her in a huge, thick towel and dried her like a baby. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw that her hair fell like spikes against her shoulders. Her skin shone like smooth chocolate. His more yellowy tones contrasted with hers in a blend that she knew could produce fire—gold and red and hot flames that burned, consumed, ate at the air as explosions racked them.
After skimming the towel over himself he took her to the bed and lifted the covers. She slid between the smooth sheets, making room for him to join her. The bed took his weight and his warm arms wrapped her in a safe cocoon.
"Sleep," he told her.
And she did.
***
The sun was high when Aurora opened her eyes. The room was still dark, but light fought to get in through the edges of the shades. She lay with her back to Duncan, his arms holding her. Warmth washed through her at the thought that the man she loved lay with her; that they'd spent the night in each other's arms as if they couldn't be parted.
She turned to him, a smile on her lips. He shifted, unconsciously smoothing his hands over her skin, settling them possessively around her. He was comfortable with her, even in sleep. The thought aroused her more.
Using her fingernail she drew a small circle on his arm. She grinned when he moved. Still he remained asleep. Gathering boldness she moved to his nipple, circling it again with her nail. It puckered. She felt her own breasts peak and her body begin to flow. Moving her hand slowly over him she ran it from his shoulder down. Strong fingers grasped hers and her head came up.
Duncan's eyes smiled at her. An electrical bolt went through her she couldn't control. He had to feel it. One hand held hers. The other worked its way into her hair. He brought his mouth to hers and she took it like a starving person takes food. Her mouth burned his. She climbed over him, her hand sliding quickly through his hair, over his head as her mouth devoured the taste of him. She'd never wanted anything more, desired anything more. She wanted to absorb him, be part of him, make him part of her.
Duncan's hands seared her naked skin. She moaned as they skimmed over her, kneading her body, turning her into a volcano. She felt eruptive, explosive, knew she was building, knew he was pushing her upward to a place where she could gorge him like the queen bee.
With lightning speed Duncan reversed their positions. She was forced into the mattress by the comely weight of him. Her arms went around him, her legs twined with his like vines grown together. She heard his throaty growl, bathed in the feel of him, drank in the scent of him. With open mouth she kissed his skin. Muscles quivered beneath her touch. Her hips moved, gyrated, pulsed beneath him. She had no will, no way of preventing the passion that gripped her, took her forward, made her run with him. He entered her easily. She screamed, then whimpered at the indescribable pleasure that bulleted through her body. Like a cat, she arched her back. His mouth took her nipple, tugged and pulled it. His tongue danced over it.
She moaned dryly. Her voice called to him. She opened to him, taking him further inside her, giving up the struggle for control, for reason, letting feeling, sensation, and rapture lead her.
Duncan dug into her like a beast. He'd held back as long as he could. She pushed him, touching him with hands that felt like gloved velvet, moving against him creating fire. The heat built. Burned. Zoomed through his system like a four-alarmer. He snapped, grasped her buttocks, lifted her to him. He plunged into her, rode her like a wild stallion given his head. Her hands raked over his skin, shredding his arms as she met him, stroke for stroke. The wildness was in her. The street-smart woman from New York's underworld ground under him. The one-movement karate expert twined her legs around him, completing the circle that bound them together in a forever and unending climax.
***
Time, Aurora thought as she placed bacon in the frying pan. She didn't usually cook bacon this way. When she indulged in bacon she often put it in the microwave. This morning she needed something else to do. Time wasn't really what she needed. It wouldn't make things better. It would make them worse.
Duncan had already announced he was leaving. In less that two weeks he'd be gone and she'd be lost, heartbroken, alone. She'd known this would happen. Since the day he'd first kissed her, she'd known this moment would come. She turned the bacon over. It sizzled in its own grease, spattering itself over the clean stove.
Taking a wet cloth, she mopped it up. Then she popped the tray of rolls in the oven and heated water for grits. This would be a southern breakfast like her grandmother used to make. Too bad she didn't have any chicken livers. She could make gravy and biscuits. The coffee was already brewed.
Lifting the bacon from the pan, she laid the crispy strips on paper towels. She'd never learned to measure when cooking. She used handfuls instead of cups, pinches, or sprinklings instead of teaspoons and tablespoons. Pouring two hands of grits into the boiling water she stirred it to keep it from clumping, then covered it with a glass lid. She buttered toast, poured coffee and drank, all to keep her mind off the man upstairs in her bed.
It wasn't working. She could think of nothing else. She could see his body as she'd left him. Sprawled over the white covers, his golden skin called to her from a distance. She forced herself to keep her attention on the food.
"Good morning." Duncan's voice sounded like music. It wrapped around her heart more warmly than the baking bread in the oven could ever do. Her back was to him and she didn't move. He came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She smelled the soap from the shower on his skin. Closing her eyes, she leaned back, breathing in deeply. She should resist. She should end it now, not drag it out.
Somehow she steeled herself. Her back straightened as if she had an iron bar instead of a spine inside her. Duncan turned her around.
"What's wrong?"
She didn't want to look at him. She knew that if she looked she wouldn't be able to say what needed to be said. Pushing back, she opened the oven. The bread was browning, but
it wasn't ready yet.
"Aurora, what is it?"
"I want you to leave," she said, straightening.
"What?"
She turned about the kitchen, looking for something to do. She moved the plate of draining bacon, got eggs from the refrigerator, closed it. Then she opened it again for cheese and closed it. The space, which she'd always considered extensive, seemed close and confining.
"Stop," he demanded, taking her arms and turning her to face him. She kept her gaze fixed, but it fell on his sensuous lips. "Tell me what's wrong."
She tried to disengage herself, but Duncan's grip tightened.
“Nothing is wrong. Please let me go. The food will burn.”
He released her and went to the stove. He removed the bread from the oven, turned off all the burners, and set each pot and pan onto trivets. Then he turned back to her.
"I want an answer."
"There isn't anything wrong. You'll be leaving in a few weeks. I'm out of a job. I was just thinking of what I could do now." The lie sounded weak even to her.
"Rory," he whispered, taking her in his arms. She was too weak to resist. She wanted to be there. Just one more time, she thought. Let him hold me for a few moments. "I want you to come with me. I want to marry you."
A slap couldn't have hurt her more. Pushing out of his arms she put the distance of the kitchen between them. "I can't marry you!" she screamed. "I have to stay here." She pointed to the floor, wanting to childishly stamp her foot. "I can't move my mother."
Chapter 19
Christmas cookies: silver bells, Christmas bells, gingerbread men. Aurora iced the last one with the face of one of the nurses. She smiled, thinking how like her the caricature looked. She loaded the car as she'd done for the past three years before driving the short distance to the nursing home.
Mirror Image (Capitol Chronicles Book 4) Page 24