Prisoner of Love

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Prisoner of Love Page 13

by Cathy Skendrovich


  He fell back onto the bed, ignoring his aroused state and attempted to block the picture of a bare-bottomed Lucy standing under a steamy showerhead. He hadn’t gotten enough of her and he’d wasted nearly five hours of prime make-out time snoozing the day away. Shit, old men preferred sleep over sex. He used to be a marathon man in the bedroom Olympics. Now he was spending more time thinking about screwing her, instead of actually doing her.

  But before he went in search of little Lucy all sopping wet, an image from earlier crowded his brain, demanded he peruse it no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. He couldn’t forget when, after all the shouting had been done, he’d collapsed on the bed and pulled panting, spent Lucy toward him. How she’d curled into him and pressed her palm against his heart. He couldn’t overlook that then, and only then, had he been able to fall asleep.

  Glancing at the closed bathroom door, his heartbeat sped up at the thought of being with her again. He paused, pondered the importance of his racing pulse.

  He rested against the pillows and closed his eyes, picturing his life without the danger, without the running. Without Lucy. And his heart nearly stopped. Forget that it had felt so right living with her, cooking for her, seeing her at the end of the day. Looking forward to her company. Jake’s life was a freaking mess right now and becoming emotionally dependent on Lucy would only compound his problems.

  He should get up, quietly dress, and leave. Walk away from Lucy Parker and all the turmoil she provoked within him. He should take care of his chaotic life and let her return to her orderly one. Yes, that would be the wisest move.

  He even got out of bed, intent on following that decision. Actually reached for his boxers on the floor. But then he glanced toward the bathroom one more time and saw Lucy in his mind’s eye, Lucy with her small hands caressing his skin, her body pressed against his as if they could become one simply by touch. And he damned his heart as he veered toward the bathroom like a magnet.

  He threw the bathroom door open. Lucy turned around under the steaming waterfall. She met his gaze and smiled.

  He was a goner. With that pleading, big-eyed expression, and water cascading over wet shoulders and off glistening breasts, she beckoned him to dive in and hold nothing back.

  But no, he wouldn’t go there. Jake Dalton didn’t say the L-word, let alone act on it. He shoved the sentiment to the back of his mind, locked the door, and threw away the key.

  She held out her hand in invitation, equal parts seductive and insecure. And it was that wide-eyed look that finished him off. That hint of vulnerability that made him want to sweep her up and hold her close. Stepping into the shower and closing the glass door, he maneuvered her up against the cold, white tiles. He felt her body jolt at the chilly contact as he pressed her entire front against his.

  “Mmm,” he growled, trapping her with his body and placing both hands on either side of her head. She raised her chin, lashes spiked from the flowing water. And still said nothing.

  He leaned in, lips just inches above hers. “What’s the matter, sweet Lucy? Having second thoughts?”

  She shook her head, her gaze dropping to his mouth. She shivered even though the water dousing them remained warm and steady. Rivulets coursed through his hair, dripped off the ends to mingle with the water running over her body. Droplets gummed his lashes, trickled from his nose. He searched for a reason for her reticence.

  Pressing closer, he felt her every curve. “Remember, no regrets. I’ve wanted you since I met you. That’s not gonna change. Let’s see where this wave takes us.” The door in his mind crept open even without the key, but he slammed it, shutting out that traitorous, four-letter word. Instead, he closed the distance between their mouths and captured her lips.

  His tongue explored, licked the moisture from her lips before sinking into a long, slow kiss that drugged his senses and dizzied his brain. Once more she was surrounding him, crowding him, muddling his emotions. Unlocking that door…

  She pressed her breasts into his chest and wrapped one leg around one of his. He angled his hips and pushed inside her.

  For the third time in the last six hours, he lost all sense of time and place, didn’t know up from down. He nearly shouted his frustration at his inability to keep this strictly sexual. She had some hold over him, some ability to worm past his defenses, until all he could do was give himself over to her and hope she left something of him at the end.

  Oh, God, Lucy screamed in her head as Jake lifted and lowered her body, immediately striking a rhythm. She barely heard his comment of “no regrets.” There would always be regrets, but she shoved them aside. She wanted—no, needed this man, his touch, his kiss, his body.

  His thrusts strengthened, sending her up the shower wall. Over and over he plunged into her, harder, faster, almost as if something was driving him. She clung to him, thoughts careening around in her head until that familiar, swirling need began to build within her.

  And then, all at once, his wild, primitive pace slowed, gentled, becoming long strokes that built the pressure within her even more rapidly. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, the coil of tension released, and she bit his shoulder to keep from crying out. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, even as she felt him shudder deep inside. She could hear the sound of their labored breathing above the rush of warm shower water while it continued to pelt their entwined bodies.

  At last he lowered her to her feet and she wrapped her arms tightly about his waist, heard his wildly-beating heart beneath her ear. She jerked when he rained whisper-soft kisses along the crown of her head. And knew her feelings for him had just gone deeper. No longer was it just a matter of needing him, wanting him. It was now a matter of love…

  When the water grew cool, she felt him reach out and turn the water off. She didn’t want to move from this place. She wanted to remain in his arms where she felt safe.

  He pushed the glass door open and startled her out of her self-examination when he swept her up into his arms and deposited her on the waiting bath mat.

  She remained where he’d put her, dazed by her newly uncovered emotions. No man had ever made her feel the way she had moments ago, the way she still felt. That she wasn’t complete without him. That her needs and desires were more important than his. That his happiness hinged on hers.

  Their gazes collided as he reached for a towel, and he smiled gently. He even winked, before surprising her further by drying her off. He rubbed the towel over her, spending long, sensuous minutes over and between her breasts, around her buttocks, and along her legs.

  She was weak-kneed by the time he finished. Ignoring his own wet body, he put the towel to her hair, blotting it while he stood so close she could see the individual water droplets on his chest.

  She fought the urge to reach out, to lick the moisture from his skin, and perhaps incite another round of lovemaking. It wouldn’t be smart, not when she was so vulnerable from their last coupling. She settled for wrapping her arms around his slim waist, nestling into his damp body, and acknowledging that she’d already lost her heart to this man. That he’d made her love him by everything he said, everything he did. Which only complicated an already difficult situation.

  “I still have to go to that gas station on the other end of the Strip, sweetheart.” His voice rumbled above her, and he shocked her once again when he dropped the towel and began to run his fingers through her long hair, separating and smoothing out the tangles. Oh, God, she felt like purring, and tightened her embrace. He grunted as his body reacted to her hug.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he began. “I’d much rather stay here with you—”

  Lucy pressed the palms of her hands into his chest and pushed away from him. The erotic moment, that flash of self-discovery, evaporated as his words sank in.

  “Wait a minute. Even after all we’ve done, you’re planning on leaving me here while you go investigate who’s setting you up? Did I hear you right?”

  He had the grace to look away, the
rat, which told her all she needed to know. Grabbing the towel, she hastily wrapped it around her before meeting his eyes with a glare.

  “What am I supposed to do while you’re out detecting? Go get my nails done? Play the slots? I’m good enough to screw, but not good enough to include in your little fact-finding mission?”

  Her anger sparked, Lucy stomped out of the bathroom. The rustle behind her announced that Jake was on the move as well. She’d made it to the step down in the other room before he grabbed her elbow and swung her around.

  “Stop it, Luce. Just stop and listen for a second.”

  She shook her arm free and glared at him. Hadn’t they just been in this position a few hours ago? Not much had changed—yet everything was different. Against her better judgment, Jake was becoming too important to her. She was falling for his special blend of strength and need. She could only hope he was doing the same for her. But it didn’t sound like it.

  “I’m going with you, Jake.”

  “Damn it, Lucy,” he whispered. “It’s dangerous. I don’t want you involved any more than you already are.”

  She felt him cracking, could hear it in his voice. And she squelched the flood of satisfaction as it rushed through her.

  “You may not want me along, Jake, but you can’t control what I do. What I feel. I need to be with you. Finding the real person behind all this matters just as much to me as it does to you.”

  At last he reacted by reaching up and framing her face with his two large hands. He glowered at her. “Why, Lucy? After all I’ve put you through, exposed you to, why would what affects me matter to you?”

  “Because you matter to me, Jake.” As an accountant she was a numbers girl, and there was a likelihood that their time was limited. She wouldn’t squander it because of her fears or insecurities. Jake deserved more than that—they both did. “I’m involved, whether you like it or not. Wouldn’t the safest place for me be with you?”

  After a long, tension-filled moment, he acquiesced, yanking her to him, where she could feel his hot skin, feel what her nearness did to him. He swayed from foot to foot, holding her tight. And she felt safe.

  “Damn you, Lucy. I can’t say no. But you’d better do what I say.”

  As she rose up on tiptoes to kiss his grudging lips, she whispered, “Yes, dear.” He snorted as he lowered his head.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They drove out to the gas station a little later than Jake had planned, but he wasn’t complaining. How could he, when he was so sated from the nonstop lovemaking?

  But what made their time together even more special had been the moments in between lovemaking. The times when, sprawled across his body, she’d admitted that her early years had been painful, that she’d had no one to rely on but herself. It had cut him to the quick to visualize a teenage Lucy, coming home to a drunken mother and having to earn the money to keep a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. He’d told her that her past had made her the strong, captivating woman he admired today. And he’d meant it.

  In return, she had held him close when he’d disclosed the facts about his druggie dad, his overworked mom. She’d said she understood now why these accusations weighed so heavily upon him. That he wanted to be nothing like his father. She really got it.

  Once they’d turned into the gas station and parked, Jake didn’t tell Lucy to wait in the car. She wanted to be with him every step of the way, and why not? He could keep her safer if she was right under his nose. Besides, he was beginning to feel incomplete without her by his side. But he refused to analyze the reason why.

  As she came around to his side of the car, it warmed him to realize that he knew each delicious curve and hollow she hid beneath that bulky sweatshirt. That he’d touched and kissed every part of her that she concealed from the outside world. And even more than the sex, he was privy to her secret insecurities, and she of his. He’d never been the recipient of that kind of…whatever you called it.

  Avoiding any sort of introspection, Jake turned his attention to the moment at hand. To the clue that could clear his name as a dirty cop.

  “How are you going to get the video tape for a particular day?” Lucy asked as she rounded the hood of the car. “They’re not going to just give it to you because you asked.”

  Ah, smart women. Gotta love ’em.

  Taking her elbow, Jake ambled toward the cashier inside the station.

  “I know that. I’ve got my story all thought out. Just watch and stay mute. If you can.” He intercepted her narrow-eyed look and grinned, then opened the glass door and let her precede him inside. The smell of hot dogs assailed them as they entered.

  Luckily, the clerk wasn’t with a customer at the moment. She looked up from slurping her Big Gulp and asked in a nasally tone, “Can I help you?”

  Jake dragged his attention from the nose ring the girl sported and smiled the smile he reserved for picking up girls. Lucy wandered over to the candy rack, but he knew she was listening.

  Leaning on the counter, he read the clerk’s nametag. “I sure hope so…Candy, is it? A week ago I was in a fender bender out there in your driveway, and I was hoping your video cameras caught it on tape. Is there any way I could review your video feed?”

  She blew a bubble, popped it, chewed it back into her mouth, and shrugged.

  “I dunno how to work the video. Sid does that. He’s off today—”

  “Oh, I know how, Candy. I’m a music scout for some of the casinos. I can run it back without a bit of trouble to you.” He saw Lucy’s gaze shoot to him in disbelief, but he ignored her. Instead, he held his breath, forced the smile to remain on his face while he chanted within, C’mon girl, be lazy. C’mon…

  “Sure, why not? It’s not like you’re gonna steal anything, right?” While she spoke, Candy lifted the split counter, and Jake slid in with a relieved sigh. Lucy positioned herself on the other side so that she could see the video screen. She kept quiet.

  More customers filtered in, and the clerk got busy, so Jake did too. Deftly he hit the rewind, and watched the week back up in hyper speed. His captain hadn’t given him a definite date of when the money passed here, but he had an approximate. He’d find it. He had to. He just hoped he would recognize one of the guilty persons on the surveillance feed.

  Time passed. He felt the tension mounting within Lucy from across the counter, even though she never spoke, never touched him. He was so in tune with her he could feel her mood as she hovered on the edge of his periphery. He steered his attention back to the camera. The screen was bisected into quarters, with different angles of the inside and outside of the store. He focused on the cash registers.

  He almost missed the transaction it was so quick. But there was something about the tilt of the guy’s head in the video as he approached the counter and handed the clerk money for gas. It caught Jake’s interest, made him pause the tape. He stared at the back of the customer, the way he stood, and felt sweat break out over his body. Those tingles that never failed to warn him he was onto a hot lead began coursing through him. Leaning forward, he alternated between play and pause, slowing the video down frame by frame, until the dude turned to leave. And that’s when he recognized the man.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered as he watched Michael Delano finish paying and walk in slo-mo out of view on the video.

  “I know that guy,” Lucy said, startling Jake by her sudden speech. He whipped around to look at her. She nodded. “Yeah. He was at my complex the day of the break in. He was looking for his grandmother’s apartment.” She raised her gaze to his. “You don’t think—”

  “That’s exactly what I think,” Jake said, pushing the eject button and snatching out the disc. He handed it off to Lucy, fished out two one hundred-dollar bills, and tossed them at Candy, backing up as he did so.

  “Thanks a lot, Candy. I found what I need. Keep a hundred for yourself, and tell Sid to use the other for a new disc. I need this one.” Grabbing Lucy’s elbow, he dragged her ou
t of the little gas station store, towing her all the way to the Porsche amidst Candy’s indignant calls for him to stop.

  He wouldn’t answer Lucy’s insistent questions until he’d put the car in gear and merged onto Las Vegas Boulevard. Only then did he slow his careening mind enough to say, “You met that guy where you lived? Right before we were attacked? And you never mentioned it?” He couldn’t control his rising voice. Shit, all this time the answer was sitting in Lucy’s brain and he hadn’t known it?

  Apparently, his tone had been too strident, for Lucy slouched in the bucket seat, arms crossed over those luscious breasts he’d— Down boy. You’re irritated with her, remember?

  “It slipped my mind, all right? He was just looking for one of my neighbors. It wasn’t any big deal. Who is he, anyway?”

  Zipping between a bus and a lumbering SUV, Jake shot her a glance. “Only Farelli’s right hand man. Michael “Dickweed” Delano. The guy I also suspect might be a cop.”

  Michael threw his phone across the room in a moment of childish anger. He’d just gotten news from the tail that the cop and his girlfriend had paid a visit to a gas station Michael frequented.

  The news pissed him off. What the hell did that stupid bloodhound think he could find out there? He was too good to get caught by some wannabe detective. He’d been playing both sides for too long to be brought down by the likes of Dalton.

  He stared out the window at the gaudy Strip, not really seeing it. Instead, he was remembering when he’d first obtained entrance into Farelli’s private circle, investigating the drug operation as Michael Delano. Anton Farelli’s right hand man and general clean up committee of one. And he’d certainly been cleaning up, monetarily speaking, ever since.

  Absently running a hand over his short hair, he recalled the first time he took payment from Farelli and squirreled some of it away in a secret account, with no plan of handing it over to his boss, Uncle Sam. He’d been sick to his stomach with fear of getting caught.

 

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