by Beth Ciotta
“You. Us.”
“I’d like that, except you’re frowning.”
“I can’t cook,” she blurted, when she’d really meant I can’t have children. Even though he didn’t want to bring kids into this world, he needed to know her biggest flaw. What if he changed his mind? What if? Maybe that was her biggest flaw. Her ability to what if any situation into a catastrophe. For the first time ever, she cursed her imagination.
He smoothed her hair out of her face, traced his finger along her jaw. “I don’t see that as a problem, hon.” He gazed into her eyes as he skimmed his fingers down her throat and then drew lazy, feather-light circles around her bare breasts. “I’m more concerned with the issue of restrictions.”
Her stomach tightened and fluttered with anticipation. “Restrictions?” Last night’s romp in the hot tub had been thrillingly erotic. What would he think of next?
“Do you trust me?”
She looked into his eyes, his soul. “I do.” The words tumbled without thought.
He grabbed a condom from the nightstand. She watched, entranced as he covered his mouthwatering erection, her imagination painting a dozen fantasies. What did he have in mind? Then he rolled on top of her and her brain overloaded. The feel of his naked body pinning her down summoned images of fruitless, joyless coupling. But then he plied her mouth with a deep kiss, his fingers working magic on her body, teasing, tempting, loving, and her worries ebbed leaving her with a solitary thought: “You’re the one.”
He stilled, capturing her heart for now and always with a look that ignited her soul. “You and no other.”
She realized suddenly that she’d spoken her thought aloud, and he’d responded with an ancient pledge. Her heart burst with mind altering rapture when he sank deep inside. She clung to his shoulders, breathless, as he made love to her, slow and tender with an intensity that had her seeing rainbows. Colin Murphy colored her future with vibrant images of a fairytale happy ending.
Time blurred as they soared higher and higher … over the rainbow. Utopia. He groaned his release as her body shuddered with the fiercest climax of her life. She cried. She couldn’t help it. Her prince had given her a glimpse of Camelot.
“Please tell me those are tears of joy,” he rasped, his features strained with guilt.
Smiling, she smoothed her hands over the hard planes of his beautiful face. “You’re really stuck with me now.”
“Where are you going?”
“LA.”
Heart in throat, Rudy stared as Jean-Pierre snatched clothes from his dresser and crammed them into a suitcase. After a few hours restless sleep at Jake and Afia’s, he’d tired of putting off the inevitable. He’d driven home. He hadn’t even bared his soul and Jean-Pierre was already packing. It only served to reinforce his fear that their relationship was truly fragile.
Jean-Pierre turned to face him, hands on hips. “It is what you wanted, is it not?”
Rudy swallowed hard. His lover looked hung over and angry as hell. Unshaven, dark circles beneath his normally luminous eyes. His shirt was actually wrinkled and clashed with his pants. He’d never seen this side of good-natured, fashion-conscious Jean-Pierre. He feared no matter what he said or did, he’d only make matters worse. Somehow he managed to force words past the gigantic lump in his throat. “I want you to take advantage of a phenomenal opportunity. I want you to win the recognition you deserve. I don’t want you to pass up a chance to design costumes for a Hollywood film, only to resent me months from now.”
“Your lack of faith in my judgment is astonishing, Bunny.”
The nickname that used to irk Rudy, and then later warmed his heart, now sent a shiver down his spine. “I just … I want you to be happy.”
“Yet you did not come home last night. You did not return my calls, did not bother to let me know that you had not crashed and burned on the highway. No. I had to learn from Jake that you were safe. At three in the morning no less.”
“I behaved badly.”
“Ah, oui.” He returned to his packing.
“No, I mean …” Both Afia and Jake had warned him against confessing his indiscretion. Suggested he’d be better off addressing his insecurities, strengthening instead of sabotaging the relationship. He supposed it didn’t matter now. He had a reputation. He hadn’t come home. No doubt Jean-Pierre already assumed the worst.
Address your insecurities.
“I heard you talking to Luc. I was consumed with jealousy, convinced that you were going to pick up with your old lover.” When Jean-Pierre didn’t comment, he tossed up his hands in frustration. “The two of you have so much more in common. You’re young and artistic. French. I don’t know what happened. I lost it. I … I …” Ah, Christ, he couldn’t say it.
“You sought solace in another man’s arms.”
“It wasn’t … We didn’t …”
“It does not matter.” Jean-Pierre snapped shut two suitcases, curled his long fingers around the handles. “I will advise Anthony of my decision tomorrow. I already gave my notice at the Carnevale. I will be staying at a motel for the next few days.”
At last, Rudy moved forward and risked contact. He placed his hand over Jean-Pierre’s, the only hand whose touch he truly craved. Renewed guilt flooded his being, causing his voice to sound flat and detached. “You don’t have to do that. Stay here. I can move into the guest room.”
Jean-Pierre’s eyes brimmed with tears as he broke free and moved toward the door. “Ah, Bunny. If only you had asked me to stay, period.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jake. If you don’t watch over Lulu, Murphy won’t leave her, meaning he won’t be able to watch over Rudy. You have to go. I’m fine, really. Just tired.”
Jake watched as Afia spooned canned gourmet food into their cats’ double serving dish. She looked pale and exhausted. The exhausted part he understood. She’d tossed and turned with worry most of the night, only to spend the wee hours into dawn comforting Rudy. Even her attempt at an afternoon nap had been a bust.
But it was her trembling hands that caused him real concern. The scene with Rudy had stressed her out. Even worse, she’d walked in at the end of his red-eye phone call with Murphy. He’d had two choices: come clean or straight out lie. The latter was not an option. So now she was not only worried about JP and Rudy, but Rudy and Lulu pitted against those crazy Falcones.
“I have a feeling something bad is going to happen.”
Shit. Shaking off his own sense of foreboding, he moved in from behind and wrapped his arms around Afia’s waist, his palms against her flat belly. Knowing that Joni had almost lost her baby in the early stages of pregnancy tweaked his concern to an excruciating level. “Baby, why don’t I drop you off at Joni’s. I’d feel a helluva lot better if you weren’t alone just now.”
Afia dropped her head back against his shoulder and sighed. “If I don’t go, you’re going to be distracted, aren’t you?’
“Probably.”
“In that case, I’ll go. If you’re distracted, Lulu won’t be the only one at risk. I have enough on my mind without having to worry about you.” She nudged him away and carried the dish toward the laundry room. “I’ll feed the cats. You run up and get my purse.” She looked over her shoulder and winked. “Chop, chop, baby.”
He’d once used that phrase when trying to coax her into dumpster diving for a case. The Angela Falcone case to be exact. Her attempt to lighten his mood failed. He forced a smile then headed for the stairs. In addition to her purse, he was tempted to dig her charm bracelet out of the top dresser drawer and to clasp it around her wrist for good luck.
Though it went against his logical nature, at this moment Jake welcomed any and all protection from misfortune and evil, even the magical kind.
Sofie was in protective custody. Rudy was on his way to Philadelphia. As soon as Jake arrived, Murphy would be off to meet Bogie. Their objective: To crack down on an international smuggling ring and to incapacitate
the upper echelon of a notorious crime family.
Murphy, Lulu knew, had a special eye on her stalker, Paulie Falcone.
Her Disney life had become a Hollywood thriller. And it was only getting worse.
Lulu stared at the computer screen, disbelieving. An estimated 2.8 million teenagers had tried Ecstasy at least once and many went on to become regular users despite the dangerous cognitive, physical, and psychological effects. Children as young as twelve years old experimented with the increasingly popular love drug.
Twelve years old!
She hadn’t argued when Murphy had asked her to call in sick to work. Hadn’t panicked when he’d relayed an update on Operation Candy Jar. She knew her impulsive sister was in safe hands and that Rudy could take care of himself. But nervous energy had demanded she rein in her imagination before she what if’d Murphy and his brother into a deadly shoot-out with the Falcones. That meant occupying her mind.
Murphy had suggested she work on a loonytale while he prepared for the sting. Wanting to better understand the significance of this particular FBI investigation, she’d ended up surfing the Net. Knowledge, she’d recently decided, was power.
Knowledge was also dangerous.
The red haze intensified as she skimmed more statistics and scientific reviews. Pumped up and armed with disturbing facts, she catapulted out of her chair, and into the bedroom. “Did you know that MDMA is a popular club drug for teens?”
Murphy pulled a black mock turtleneck shirt over his head. “I thought you were going to work on a loonytale.”
“We’re talking millions of kids,” she vented, as she paced the length of the room. “It’s not addictive, but they begin to crave the effects. Chronic users of MDMA experience cognitive or memory loss. In high doses, MDMA can lead to hyperthermia, resulting in liver, kidney, and cardiovascular system failure. It’s not just a harmless mood-altering drug, Murphy!”
He tucked in his shirt, regarded her with a somber expression. “I know, honey.”
“Did you know that one tablet costs about twenty-five dollars? Joe said the Falcones are importing millions of dollars worth of Ecstasy! How many tablets is that? How many children and teenagers will be affected? Those mobsters are greedy, treacherous scum!” She spied his gun on the bed and, without any hesitation whatsoever, picked it up and thrust it at him. “You’re going to need this.”
“Whoa.” Murphy relieved her of the weapon, redirecting the business end. “Watch where you point that thing, tiger.”
“Make sure you have lots of bullets. If one of them shoots at you, shoot back. Just try not to kill anyone. I’d hate for you to have that on your conscience.”
He grinned while holstering his firearm. “I think I can handle it.”
Lulu sank down on the bed with an exasperated sigh. “Why do people use drugs? Drugs that can damage your brain and other vital parts? I just don’t get it. Aren’t kids listening? Say no to drugs!”
Murphy moved toward the bed, reached out, and tucked a curl behind her ear. “Apparently, that catchy slogan isn’t enough, Princess. So what are you going to do about it?”
“Me?”
“If anyone can sway the hearts and minds of young kids, I suspect it’s you. Determine where you can do the most good and attack with a vengeance.”
She blinked up at him, absorbing the confidence in his tender, heart-tripping gaze. Her mind whirled. “I could create specific loonytales geared toward drug education. Maybe I could submit them to schools as special programs. I think they have grants for things like that.”
He smiled. “I’m sure they do.”
“It would take a lot of time and dedication. To do it right, I’d probably have to give up my job at the Carnevale.”
“So do it.”
“And kiss my health benefits good-bye?”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Of course, I do. Then again making a difference entails taking risks, right?”
His eyes twinkled with pride. “Right.”
A man of action. A man of honor. A warrior. Lulu’s heart pounded with an epiphany. She’d been so worried about falling for the man, that she’d missed the obvious. She’d been a goner at “hello.” She loved Colin Murphy. This love was fierce and all-consuming and on an entirely different level than what she’d felt for Terry. The enormity of the realization struck her speechless.
The doorbell rang.
“That’s Jake.” Murphy’s smile faded as he urged her to her feet and into his arms. “When I get home this battle with the Falcones will be over and we’ll be free to begin. As clichéd as it is, you’ve inspired me to look on the bright side, Lulu. You’re right. My kid could make a difference. I’d be happy with four or five.” He stroked a thumb over her flaming cheek, smiled into her burning eyes. “How about you?”
Her stomach rolled with nausea. “I’d be happy with one,” she choked out.
“Well, that’s certainly a start.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth, then stepped back and ruffled her hair with a cocky grin. “Don’t look so glum, tiger. The Falcones are nothing compared to enemy forces.” He strode for the door, winked over his shoulder. “OohRah.”
She stared after him, dizzy with grief, as her happily-ever-after died a bitter death.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jake glanced over at Lulu just to make sure she was still breathing. She hadn’t moved or said a word in forty minutes. Granted they were watching a movie, but her focus seemed to be somewhere else. The chick-flick was fairly amusing, and she’d yet to crack a smile. In fact, at times, she’d looked on the verge of tears. A far cry from the firecracker who’d given him hell days before.
He supposed she was worried about Murphy. He would ask, but that would mean conversation. He didn’t feel like talking. He had worries of his own. He focused on the big-ass plasma screen—Murphy had an obvious boner for state-of-the-art electronics—but all he saw was a blur of flapping lips. All he heard was blah, blah, blah and a ringing phone. His phone.
He glanced at the incoming number. Joni. His gut clenched as he rose from the recliner, distanced himself from the television and Lulu, and hit the answer button. “Hey, sis. Everything okay?”
“Don’t panic, Jake.”
Nice. “Freaking hell, Joni.”
“Afia’s spotting.”
His stomach dropped. “What?”
“Vaginal bleeding. She told me that she’s only a few weeks along, and that she had a very upsetting night. It’s probably nothing. Probably stress. I’m betting the doctor simply advises bed rest.”
Jake palmed his forehead certain his brain was going to shoot through his skull. “Don’t sugar coat, Joni. Is Afia having a miscarriage?”
Lulu’s head snapped up, and he realized then that he was shouting.
“I don’t know.” She sighed, lowered her voice. “I hope not.”
“Where are you? Where’s Afia?”
“We’re on our way to the hospital. Carson’s driving. Afia’s sitting in between Kylie and me. She didn’t want to call you. Said you’re on an important case. But I knew you’d want to know.”
“Put her on the phone.”
“She’s upset, Jake.”
“Put her on the fucking phone.” His body vibrated with the urge to ram his fist through a wall. He just wanted to hear her voice. He felt a gentle squeeze on his arm, glanced down and saw Lulu gazing up at him with tender support.
“Jake?”
“Baby.” He struggled to keep his voice calm. “Are you in pain?”
“No. I’m just …” Her voice cracked. “I’m scared.”
A thousand knives stabbed at his heart. “I know, honey. But you’re with Joni and Carson. And I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“You can’t. You have to stay with Lulu.” She sniffed back tears. “Like you said, I have Joni and Carson.”
“I’ll bring Lulu with me.” Lulu shook her head no, but he ignored her.
“I love you, Jake.
”
“I love you, too, baby. Remember positive thoughts over negative.” He slipped the phone into his inner jean jacket pocket, conscious that his hands were shaking. He leveled Lulu with a deadly glare. “You’re going to the hospital with me if I have to knock you out and carry you.”
The golden-haired pain-in-his-backside inched away, eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t, Jake.”
He wanted to throttle her. “My wife might be losing our baby.”
The tears overflowed. “I know. I heard. That’s why I can’t go. I can’t handle anything having to do with babies just now.”
The pain in her voice intensified the crack in his heart. “I can’t leave you here alone, Lulu. I can’t call Murphy or Bogie or Rudy—”
“Jean-Pierre!” She was already across the room, rooting through that ridiculous poodle purse for her cell. She punched in numbers as she shooed him toward the door. “Go on, Jake. Afia needs you. I’ll lock the door behind you, and I won’t let anyone in but Jean-Pierre.”
It sounded like a safe alternative. Or maybe he just wanted it to sound safe. He should’ve been five minutes down the road already. “Goddammit, woman.”
“Hello? Jean-Pierre? Yeah, it’s me. Fine, but I need you. Now.” She rattled off directions, hurried over and physically shoved Jake toward the front door. “Fifteen minutes? Great. See you then.” She signed off, disengaged the security system by punching in a code, and swung open the door.
All Jake could think about was getting to Afia. “Lock this door behind me. Set the security system. Do not leave this house under any circumstances.”
“Positive thoughts over negative,” she said, before nudging him outside and firmly shutting the door.
The waiting was painful. Waiting to learn whether or not Murphy was safe. If his brother and Rudy were safe. Waiting to learn whether Paulie Falcone was out of her life and if a huge amount of drugs was off the street. And lastly, waiting to hear that Afia and her baby were okay. She’d only met the woman once, but she was kind and generous, and deserving of a child with the man she loved.