Finger Prints

by Barbara Delinsky

  Sam sat, silent and patient, watching intently as Ryan’s lower lip covered the upper then slid slowly down. “I knew what I had to do—what I had to find out for myself. And I didn’t want to wait. I thought about leaving Carly a note, about concocting some story about an emergency trip, but I didn’t want to lie.” His gaze sharpened. “There’d already been enough of that. I was furious at her. Maybe subconsciously I wanted to hurt her back by making her sit up there waiting. It was stupid. But I didn’t know what else to do. Anyway, I drove around for a while, stopping every so often just to think. By dawn I was at the airport. I was on the first flight out to Chicago.” He looked up. “Is she all right?”

  Sam nodded. “Tom’s been with her. And Sheila.”

  “Sheila.” Ryan gave a coarse laugh. “I bought that story too—about their meeting through you. I should have realized there was more to it. But I was blinded by everything I felt for Carly.”

  “Not too blind to begin to question.”

  Ryan’s lips thinned. “No. Not after a while, at least.” Then his tone grew urgent. “You have to understand. I want to marry her. I want to have children with her. But she held back, and I couldn’t understand it. There were so many things I didn’t understand—little things, little contradictions. Once I got to Chicago, I went to the library and pored over old newspaper articles. Pritzak—that guy at the dinner Friday night—mentioned her name and the gist of the case. It wasn’t hard to find. Everything jelled.”

  “And then?”

  “Then I walked around, just as your men said. I’ve been trying to decide what to do ever since.”

  “Have you?”

  In that instant, as Ryan’s gaze met Sam’s head-on, any hostility that might have existed between them in the past vanished. They were suddenly allies, on the same side of the fence, each wanting the best for Carly.

  “I’m going back to her. I’ll just have to be patient, I guess. Maybe someday she’ll tell me on her own.”

  “She was going to Friday night.”

  “What?”

  “She’d already decided. She was going to tell you everything.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And I ran out.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Ryan wore a look of self-disgust. “What an idiot I am.”

  “No. I probably would have done the same thing, given similar circumstances. Maybe we’re both idiots.”

  Feeling strangely calm now and at ease with the man he’d distrusted for so long, Ryan lapsed into a moment’s thought. “That night after New Year’s, when we came back from Vermont and found you there—”

  “I thought she was in trouble. Until she met you, she hadn’t dared stray from her place, let alone go somewhere for the night. I thought someone had gotten to her.”

  “And that mysterious trip a few weeks ago. Her father wasn’t sick, was he?” The light dawned. “I tried to reach you, but you were out of town too. I didn’t even make the connection.”

  “I took her to Chicago to meet with the state’s attorney. We only had a few hours’ notice. She wasn’t happy about going. It wasn’t pleasant for her.”

  “The papers said that Culbert’s lawyer filed for a new trial. Will there be one?”

  “I don’t know. The judge is considering the motion. But Carly can tell you all about that. Maybe you ought to get home. I doubt she’s had any more sleep than you have.”

  A look of anguish crossed Ryan’s face. “She may not want to see me after I ran off the way I did.”

  “She’ll want to see you. She was frantic that one of Culbert’s men did you harm.”

  “Does she know where I was?” he asked more cautiously.

  Sam shook his head. “I didn’t say anything. When I thought you might have been…well, let’s just say that I’ve been putting her off all weekend. She’ll be very glad to see you.”

  Ryan stood. “I hope so.” Then he extended his hand. “Thanks, Sam. I appreciate everything you’ve done for her.”

  Sam met his grasp firmly. “She’s an easy one to do things for. She asks for so little.”

  “Do you think there’s any danger?”

  “I don’t know. Culbert and Barber are both restless. They’ve got great hopes for this new trial. We’ll have to wait and see what the judge decides. Obviously, if something should happen to Carly in the meantime, their chances for a new trial will be that much better.” He frowned his frustration. “All we can do is to keep an ear out and investigate anything that looks fishy.”

  “Like guys who fly out to Chicago for kicks?”

  “Like those.”

  With a weary smile, Ryan opened the door. Instantly Greg and his sidekick came to attention, but Sam was quick to hold them back with an upraised palm. Passing them, he walked Ryan to the garage.

  “Want me to come?”

  “Thanks. But no. Carly and I have a lot of talking to do. It’s enough that you and I understand each other. I’ll take care of her. You keep your eyes peeled.”

  “Roger,” Sam said and, turning, rejoined his men.

  Ryan didn’t go straight home. He needed a few extra minutes to digest his discussion with Sam and think through things one more time. When he arrived in Cambridge it was dark. After parking, he walked toward the building, his sharp eyes on the third floor windows that were Carly’s.

  They were dark.

  Heart pounding, he took the stairs two at a time, knocked on her door, then rang the bell. Unable to wait, he fished in his pocket for his key and let himself in, only to find the place deserted. Puzzled, he tried to think. Tom might have taken her out for something to eat. Or she might have gone to Sheila’s. Neither thought pleased him. He wanted to see her now. Having thought everything out, he was as ready as he’d ever be. And after two long days, he needed her.

  Dejected, he retraced his steps to the second floor and let himself into his apartment, determined to unpack and clean up, then go back and wait for her.

  Flipping on the lights, he saw nothing but loneliness—wall-to-wall carpet as stark without furniture as he felt without Carly. She was his color, his comfort, his joy. Without her, his life was empty.

  He didn’t turn on the bedroom light, choosing not to be reminded of that void in his life, but dropped his bag on the bed and began to undress. Then he heard a tiny cry and froze. There in the darkness, lit only by the palest hint of moonlight, was a small bundle of arms and legs and long hair that curled over hunched shoulders.

  “My God…Carly?” He was across the room on his knees in an instant, prying her rigid hands from her mouth.

  She cried his name then and threw herself into his arms, clinging to him with a strength that belied two days with little food or sleep. “Ryan,” she sobbed. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

  “Oh, baby,” he moaned, “I’d come back. I love you. Don’t you know that?”

  “There’s so much I have to tell you,” she managed in a broken rush. “I’m not who you think. I was somebody else before…in Chicago…a reporter. Robyn Hart. I testified for the state on an arson case and when someone tried to kill me they put me in the Witness Protection Program.”

  “I know. I know.”

  For an instant she was still, only intermittent gasps breaking the silence. Then she drew her face from his neck and stared up at him. His cheeks were wet. Bewildered, she raised a finger to touch his tears.

  “You know?”

  He pressed her hand to his bearded jaw. “I spent the weekend in Chicago.”

  “Ch-Chicago?”

  Shifting her onto his lap, he settled back into her corner. Holding her tightly but gently, he told her everything. “I’m sorry to have left you that way Friday night. I was hurt and confused. I didn’t know what to do. Sam met me at the airport today. He half thought I’d made contact with Culbert in Chicago.”

  “With Culbert? How could he think that?”

  “It’s his job. He’s protecting you. I mu
st have looked pretty strange when I disappeared, to go to Chicago, no less. But we got everything straightened out. He said Tom and Sheila were with you.”

  “I sent them home.”

  Thoughts of her safety were foremost in his mind. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to be alone.”

  Ryan frowned, as though just then realizing where she was. “How did you get in?”

  The night couldn’t hide her sheepish expression. “Sam picked the lock when we first went looking for you.” Her voice dropped. “I stole the key from your key board. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not. I should have given you one sooner.” He glanced off into the darkness. “Your Sam. He’s not such a bad guy after all.”

  For the first time since he’d returned, Carly felt the horror of the past begin to recede. Tension very slowly seeped from her limbs. The ice that had encased her senses grew moist. “I missed you so, Ryan. I can imagine what you must have felt when I raced off to Chicago with Sam.”

  “Thank God I didn’t know then that you were with him. I didn’t figure that out till a little while ago. I think I would have gone mad if I’d known.”

  “I half wish you had. Maybe this would have all come out sooner.”

  He held her back and gazed into her eyes. “But you were going to tell me? Before I left?”

  Reaching up, she kissed him softly. “Friday night. I waited and waited, but you didn’t come.”

  “Will you ever forgive me?”

  “Will you ever forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” he whispered. “You were frightened. I can now understand why. I only wish I’d been able to share some of that fear with you.”

  “But I didn’t want that. Don’t you see? It’s bad enough that I have to live with it, but to impose it on someone else makes it even worse.”

  “I love you, Carly. That gives me the right to know, the right to share everything with you.”

  She wasn’t sure she totally agreed, but couldn’t think about it with his lips suddenly sipping hers. The knowledge that he was here with her, safe and loving, made her mind whirl. A soft moan slid from far back in her throat and she opened her mouth, craving more than his gentleness offered.

  He needed little encouragement. Her invitation touched off a spark, igniting his passion like a match to dried leaves. With a shudder, he kissed her more deeply. Their lips meshed, their tongues dueled. He sought from her every bit of her sweetness, and, brimming with it, she gave eagerly.

  He groaned, shifting her to face him, easing her legs around his hips. “Do you know how much I need you? Do you know how much I love you?” Pressing his hands against her buttocks, he showed her how his body ached, and she thrilled to the fact even as her own body matched his yearning.

  Sliding his hands beneath the band of her sweat shirt, he touched the slender span of her back and, finding no barrier, sought her breasts. He held their fullness and kneaded them, aware of their swelling at his touch. Deftly whipping the sweat shirt over her head, he feasted his eyes on what he’d felt.

  “Your breasts are beautiful,” he said thickly. “See how the moon catches them?”

  Carly looked down. Her breasts were high and full, gleaming softly in the silver light, their tips waiting for his touch. She would never have believed she could be further aroused by the sight of her own body, but at that moment her body gloried in Ryan’s searing gaze. Dear God, how she’d missed him. Even aside from his passion, she had missed their conversations, his quiet companionship, his caring. Two days—and she’d had a glimpse of what life would be like without him. She prayed it would never come to be.

  Excitement shot through her when he lifted his hands. With thumbs and forefingers alone he touched her nipples, rolling them slowly, tugging them taut. Closing her eyes against the sweet torment, she cried his name and arched closer.

  “You’re mine,” he whispered. “These are mine. When I touch them they respond as though they were made for me.”

  “I think they were,” she managed in a strangled gasp. “No one’s ever made me feel the way you do.” Needing to touch him, she ran her hands over the fabric of his shirt, lauding the swell of his chest, its firm muscle, the symmetrically ridged contour of his rib cage. They fell past his belt to graze the hardness beneath his zipper. There she caressed him, spreading her palm over his strength, closing her fingers around his tumescence as much as the straining fabric would allow.

  Ryan’s hands fell to the delta of her womanhood. Slowly, devastatingly, he massaged her there. “So warm,” he murmured against her lips moments before his tongue plunged into her mouth. One kiss followed another, and the intimate petting went on. Releasing him only long enough to unfasten his belt and lower his zipper, she slid her hands under his shorts to his hot flesh. He convulsed helplessly, urging her into a tighter, more erotic grasp, his breath coming in tortured gasps as, increasingly, was hers. When he could bear no more, he made a low sound.

  Slipping his arms under her to hold her to him as he stood, he carried her from the dark of the bedroom into the brighter living room. She eyed him warily.

  “But the bed….”

  “This room’s too empty,” he explained. “I want to fill it with you.”

  His words thrilled her, his very presence still new and imbuing her with untold relief. That he was safe seemed a dear gift; that he was back loving her was incredible.

  Her feet slid to the floor when he stopped in the middle of the room, and she saw the same hunger in his eyes that she felt in his body. Only then letting him go, and never once taking her eyes from his, she stripped off her jeans and panties in one quick move, then finished the work she’d begun on his pants.

  Fumbling in his haste, he had his shirt barely unbuttoned when she finished. Swallowing hard, he watched her slip to her knees and press her head to his stomach. She turned her face from side to side, driven wild by his scent and the firmness of his skin. Her lips traced a fiery path over his hard muscles, her tongue a tool of rampant heat. When her mouth ventured lower, he felt his knees tremble. Ripping the shirt open, he thrust it aside, then collapsed onto his knees and took her to the rug with him.

  But Carly had begun something she couldn’t stop. Never in her life had she felt as uninhibited. She’d been blessed with Ryan’s return; her gratitude knew no bounds. Every inch of his body was precious and desirable; she showed him this in no uncertain terms. The past days’ agony had left her starving for him, and now her soul was bared and she was proclaiming it his.

  Her lips sampled the haired plane of his thighs, moving from one to the other and ever upward. The swath of skin at his groin was smooth at the side. She nibbled her way in until once more her lips approached the core of his maleness. Hands never idle, she explored and fondled, cupping, gently squeezing, only realizing that he’d shifted her when she felt his breath between her thighs.

  Arousal and excitement and passion took new meaning then. Holding him still with one hand while the other caressed him lower, she used her tongue in an exploration of silk. Intoxicated by the eroticism of the act, she instinctively sought more.

  She barely felt the hands that bent her knee up. Somewhere in the background of her own heady daze, she was aware of encroaching kisses at the top of her thigh. She moaned her delight when his fingers slid against the source of her heat, forging deeper with each glide, slowly, tenderly opening her wide. Then, as his lips found her moistness and sucked gently, his hands shifted to cup the curve of her buttocks, caressing her intimately closer. She had to struggle to maintain her own gentle touch against the urgency that was building, filling her with nearly unbearable need.

  She stroked him as he stroked her, matching the deep plunge of his tongue with searing swirls of her own. She attempted to devour him as she was being devoured, and rather than becoming less for losing part of herself in him, she was more.

  Every muscle straining against the limits of the flesh, Ryan
suddenly twisted, rising over her, coming down to take her lips in the kiss of a heavenly soulmate. At that moment he entered her. His hips surged forward, grinding her against the rug, his hardness a fiery prod electrifying the pathway to her womb.

  Then, feeling the quick gathering in both their bodies, he held himself above her. “Look at me,” he gasped in a hoarse whisper. She opened her eyes to the wealth of love he offered. “I love you,” he mouthed, withdrawing nearly completely, then slowly, ever so slowly filling her again.

  She caught in a breath, her eyes wide at the exquisitely gentle motion, but she knew that the excitement she felt went far beyond the simple mating of flesh. Her heart was Ryan’s, her soul was Ryan’s. She was naked before him, exposed and adored. As she mouthed his words in return, she felt a graceful crescendo begin in her body, rise higher, flame hotter, gain a force that finally exploded with a cry from her lips.

  Ryan held himself on a wire-taut thread of control in a bid to savor the glorious sensation of her contracting around him. Eyes bright and passion fired, he marveled at her beauty as she arched in the throes of her climax. Head thrown back, her neck glistened. Her pulse throbbed. Her breasts shimmered. She gave him everything she possessed, making his life in that instant as rich and full as anything he’d ever known.

  Then, slowly, she opened her eyes and smiled. It was his undoing. The very innocence she exuded stimulated him as much as her womanly intricacies. On trembling arms he bowed his back, withdrew one last time, then drove forward into a climax that stole every thought from mind but one, and that one was on his tongue at the supreme moment. “Carly!”

  His body pulsed wildly, blindly, for what seemed an eternity of indescribable pleasure. Finally collapsing, he gasped for breath. “Ahh, Carly….” It was a hoarse moan muffled against her hair. “You can’t believe what that…was…”

  Her smile grew less innocent and more smug. She had a head start on him for composure. “I think I can.”

  Very slowly, his limbs heavy and languorous, he slid to the side, drawing Carly with him. Nose to nose they lay in quiet enjoyment of the sounds and feel of each other’s life’s breath.