Finger Prints

by Barbara Delinsky

  “You’re wonderful,” he murmured at last.

  “So are you,” she whispered. “I do love you.”

  There was a slight tremor in the hand he raised to brush loose wisps of hair from her face. His fingers returned to trace her features, which relaxed and glowed with happiness. “When I first saw you that night in the courtyard, you looked so frightened. I wanted to protect you then. I wanted to see you smile the way you did just now.” He sucked in a breath of remembrance. “That really turned me on.”

  She halted his hand in its wanderings and pressed it to her lips. “You mean that all I have to do is smile and…wham?”

  “Well,” he drawled, “I’m not saying that the rest of you didn’t help. You’re quite a lover.”

  “When one is stimulated by another who is just a little better, one always rises to the occasion.”

  “Tell me you teach that to your students.”

  She grinned. “Not in the same context, that’s for sure. But I do believe it. Playing tennis, skiing, bicycling, writing, it’s the challenge that works.”

  “Tell me about your writing, Carly. I read as many of your articles as I could find while I was in the library in Chicago. You were good. Do you miss it?”

  Taking a deep breath, she rested her head back on his outstretched arm. “I haven’t had a chance to miss it. When I was in protective custody all those months, I was too nervous and upset to think about anything much. Then, after the trial, when I moved here, I was too busy trying to get ready for school. When I wasn’t working, I was preoccupied with sheer survival.”

  “I wish I could have spared you some of that.”

  “It wasn’t your job to. I had to learn to live with Carly Quinn myself. A crutch would have done as much harm as good.”

  “But still, I hurt when I think of what you went through.”

  “I was the lucky one,” she said quietly. “I lived.”

  “You’re thinking of Peter.”

  “He was a wonderful person—talented and dedicated. We were just about ready to wrap up our story. We had gotten this last tip and felt that if we could be there, if we could get pictures, we would have irrefutable proof.”

  “Of Culbert’s involvement?”

  “More of Barber’s. We’d already tied the two of them together pretty conclusively. We never expected Culbert to be there at the scene of the crime.”

  “You testified that he was.”

  “And he was. Peter had pictures. It was a deserted old apartment building that would have cost untold millions to renovate without the insurance money Culbert was counting on. Barber set up the fire the way he always did—using a cigarette attached to a match-book, which was in turn attached to a fuse and then something highly flammable like a plastic bag filled with cleaning solvent. It was perfect. The evidence self-destructed during the fire. There was never anything left afterward. Which was why Peter wanted to get pictures inside before we called the police.

  “Culbert and Barber were outside in a dark corner talking. We thought we had time. We knew that between Barber’s technique and Culbert’s connections neither the police nor the fire department would find evidence of arson. So we wanted proof.” She frowned, still disbelieving. “We were sure we had time. What we hadn’t counted on was Barber lighting the cigarette when he did—or the entire building seeming to explode. By the time I could get to an alarm, Peter was trapped.” She shivered and whispered, “It was awful. There wasn’t anything I could do. By the time the firemen pulled him out, he had third-degree burns over ninety percent of his body. He lay in critical condition for a week before he died.”

  Ryan’s arms tightened. “I’m sorry, babe. So sorry.”

  She took a shuddering breath, closed her eyes and reminded herself that it was over. Ryan’s solid presence beside her helped. “The film was lost in the fire. That was one of the reasons why my testimony was so critical.”

  “Did you ever have second thoughts? In light of everything that’s happened since, it would be only natural to have some regrets—”

  “About Peter, yes. About the investigation itself, no. I felt too strongly about the issue of arson.”

  “Because of Matthew?”

  “Uh-huh. Now that I think of it, I’m sure that much of the strength in my writing came from anger. I felt so helpless when he died. Writing was my vent.” She spread a palm down the solid span of Ryan’s chest. It wasn’t a sensual gesture so much as a touchstone to the present. “The anger’s gone now. Maybe testifying did that for me.” She lowered her eyes. “But I suppose if I want to be completely honest I’d have to admit that there have been times when I’ve had second thoughts about testifying and being relocated. I had to leave my family and friends. It was scary coming to a new city alone, even with Sam to help me.” She looked up and dared a smile. “But I’ve found you, so that made the whole thing worthwhile.”

  Ryan took her in his arms and rolled on the carpet until she lay atop him. “You’re incredible. I can’t say that enough. Since I met you I’ve been a human being. Before that I was nothing more than an automaton of a lawyer.”

  “That’s not what Sam told me. He said you were brilliant.”

  “He did?”

  “He trusted you from the start, regardless of what he might have thought for a while this weekend.”

  “This weekend.” It’s every detail contrasted sharply with the warmth of the moment. “Let’s forget this weekend.”

  Resting her cheek on his chest, she nuzzled the soft skin by his nipple. “No. Let’s not forget.” Her head came up in a flash. “I want you to know who I am and where I’ve come from. I want you to love Robyn Hart too.”

  He lifted his head and caught her lips in a long, moist kiss. “I do. Because she’s here.” His hand came to rest on her breast. “She’s in you. And I love you.” His hand lingered to caress her, and where she had thought herself spent new fires blazed. “Carly?”

  “Yes?”

  “Take your contacts out. Let me see your eyes.”

  Her breath caught. It was the last thing she had expected him to say. She wore her contacts so constantly that she gave them little thought. When she looked up to protest, she saw the urgency in his eyes and understood that with the revelations of the weekend there was one more to be made.

  “I want to see you as you were born.” He ran his hands down the ivory warmth of her slender torso. “I want to see you as no one else does.”

  Her gaze lingered on his for a minute. Then, slowly, she pushed herself up until she sat astride him. Carefully she removed first one lens then the other, long lashes shading the eyes that studied the gray disks in her palm.

  “Look at me, babe,” he murmured huskily.

  Strangely shy, she hesitated. Then, closing her hand loosely, she slowly raised her lids, to be rewarded by Ryan’s soft gasp when her bright blue eyes met his. In a gesture of awe, he framed her face with his large palms.

  “They’re beautiful,” he breathed. “Very beautiful. Will you do this for me each time we make love?” When she shook her head, he frowned. “Why not? You have nothing to hide from me now.”

  “I can’t see you,” she mumbled, chin tucked low again.

  “What?”

  When she tipped up her face, she spoke with greater determination. “I can’t see you. Not the way I want.” Her boldness gained momentum. “When we make love, I want to be able to see everything about you. Clearly.” Her free hand swept slowly over his chest. “I can feel you, how warm and hairy you are. I can feel this.” She rubbed the tip of her finger over his nipple and felt it harden. “But it’s a blur. I want to see it. I want to see the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile at me. Your smile turns me on too. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “No,” he rasped, suddenly and acutely aware of where she sat. “Oh, babe.” Grasping her under her arms, he brought her forward until her breasts teased his chest and her lips met his. “Make me yours.”

  It took little e
ffort. Already Carly’s body clamored for his. Her kiss transmitted the message of her slowly undulating hips, and it was amplified all the more by the brush of their bellies against each other’s.

  Very carefully, her breath coming faster, she placed her contacts on his chest. “Lie still,” she commanded in a purr, then propped her hands on the rug by his shoulder and bent her head again. She kissed his eyes and his nose, wove her way along his bearded jaw, then finally took his open mouth with one that matched it in heat and hunger. Drawing away at last, she spread her hands over his torso and told him how much she loved his leanness, his strength. When she felt him grow beneath her, she fell forward again and raised herself to taunt him there.

  But if she had planned to arouse him to a state of subjugation, her scheme backfired. Before he would ever reach the begging stage, she would take him of her own free will. As lovers they were equals, with desires as wild and needs as great.

  When Ryan lifted her hips, she welcomed him eagerly, arching her back, sighing at the pleasure of his hardness deep inside her.

  “That’s it,” he urged in a moan when she began to move. His fingers grasped the soft flesh of her bottom and guided her, while her hands claimed the sinewed brace of his shoulders. She rode him well; he was a joy of a beast. Together they raced across a plain of rapture and scaled a multitude of passionate peaks, arriving at last on the highest, reaching out for its ultimate glory. At that moment they were one as fate had decreed. At that moment a forever together seemed the greatest promise of all.

  But the moment passed. Pulse rates slowed, breathing eased. Damp bodies lay limp in the aftermath of the exertion. When Carly finally slid to Ryan’s side, it was with a reluctance that went beyond physical lassitude.

  Ryan let out an unsteady breath. Hooking an arm around her shoulder, he hugged her. He felt particularly blessed. Carly Quinn, Robyn Hart—both were his.

  “Marry me,” he whispered. “Marry me, Carly.”

  Her heart contracted. For a minute she couldn’t breathe. It had all been so wonderful up to that point. Stricken, she managed to push herself up and grope for the lenses that nestled in the hair on his chest.

  “I’d better get these back in,” she murmured unsteadily, but the sudden rise and fall of his chest impeded her search.

  He grabbed her wrist and held it firm. A tenseness ran through him but it was more urgent than angry. “I asked you something. Something important. The contacts can wait. I can’t. Will you marry me?”

  She swallowed hard and moistened her lips. “Let’s, let’s talk about it later—”

  “No!” He bolted up, heedless of the tiny disks that fell to the rug. “We have to talk about it now,” he insisted, but gently once more. “I want you to marry me. As soon as possible.”

  Needing a diversion, she felt for and located first one, then the other, of the lenses. But she was aware of Ryan’s alertness, could feel it in the powerful vibrations seeming to emanate from his pores.

  “Carly?”

  “I can’t.”

  Something snapped inside him, letting loose the anguish that seemed to have been gathering for weeks. “Why in the hell not?”

  “Because it’s too soon.”

  “For what?”

  “For us to know.”

  “That’s absurd. You say you love me.”

  Her head shot up, eyes searching blindly. “I do.”

  “And I love you,” he barked. Then, realizing the contradiction of his tone, he gentled it. “There are no more secrets between us. So there’s no reason why we shouldn’t get married.”

  Tucking her chin low, she huddled into herself. “I can’t. Not yet.”

  “Explain.”

  “Too much can still happen.”

  Ryan shook his head as if to clear it of nonsense. “What could possibly happen? We could have a fight? We could suddenly decide that we’re incompatible? That’s insane. I’m not saying that our marriage would be one endless bed of roses. No marriage is like that. We’ll have our small differences; every couple does. But what we’ve shared in the past three months, what we had just now on this rug—that has to account for something!”

  “You don’t understand,” she whispered, slowly raising her head. Her gaze held a mix of defeat, of fear, of anguish. “I’m still a witness for the state of Illinois. I’m not my own person. If they call, I have to go. Look at what happened a few weeks ago. Meade called Sam, and within hours I had to drop everything to run off to Chicago.”

  “What’s that got to do with marriage?”

  “There’s the danger.”

  “What danger?”

  “Culbert. Barber. Whoever out there thinks that he’d be better off with me out of the way.”

  Ryan stormed to his feet. “That’s crazy! No one’s taking potshots at you!” He paced halfway across the room, then turned and, mindless of his nakedness, cocked his hands on his hips. “You’re one innocent woman! You couldn’t harm a flea! You’ve already given your testimony. It’s over. Done.”

  “No, it’s not,” she cried. “If there’s a new trial, it could be just beginning.”

  “Baloney,” he fumed, needing to quash that possibility. “There won’t be any new trial. I’ve heard of Meade. He’s known to be one of the most careful prosecutors in the country. Even Sam said he tried a solid case. Besides, there’s no way either one of those bastards would go to the effort of seeking you out. It’d be suicide!”

  In an attempt to minimize Ryan’s sheer physical dominance, Carly rose. Her own frustration was seeking outlet. She wasn’t any happier refusing Ryan’s proposal than he was. “Come on, Ryan. Since when did thoughts of suicide deter a convicted killer? Let’s not be naive. Barber and Culbert were both given stiff sentences. If they have to serve them, they’ll be losing the best years of their lives. On the other hand, if they can wangle a new trial and somehow throw in a glitch, they’ll be home free. What have they got to lose?”

  He threw up his hands. “Damn it, Carly, you can’t live your life thinking that someone’s on your trail.”

  “Someone was once.” Turning away, she hugged her arms around her. With the dredging up of a nightmare, she felt chilled to the bone. “I was walking home after work,” she began in a tiny voice. “It wasn’t long after the indictments had come down. I’d walked the same route for years. I knew every nook and cranny along the way. But I wasn’t watching. I thought of myself as an innocent witness to a crime. I felt impelled to testify—because of Matthew and whatever—but I also knew it was the right thing to do. I never dreamed someone would try to hurt me. Things like that only happened in B movies. I didn’t imagine….” Her words trailed off as her voice cracked. Only when she felt Ryan’s gentle hands on her shoulders did she realize he’d approached.

  “What happened, babe?” He sensed her need to tell him and, though his own insides knotted, he needed to know as well. If he was ever to convince her to marry him, he had to know what had happened.

  She took a steadying breath. “It was an alley. Dark and narrow with a big dumpster in the middle and garbage strewn all about. I never saw him. Suddenly there was this arm around my neck and something hard sticking into my ribs.” She gasped for air. “He dragged me back, back where no one could see us. I struggled, but he was very big and his arm tightened around my throat. I could barely breathe.” She was panting softly. Ryan moved his hands in slow circles to remind her that he was there, that it was all in the past. But it didn’t do much good. The memories were too vivid.

  “He didn’t say much and when he did it was in this low snarl to mask his normal voice.” She was shaking. “I’ll never forget those words. ‘Think you’re pretty smart, do ya?’ he said. ‘Din’t no one ever teach ya not to play with fire?’ Then he gave this horrid-sounding kind of laugh. ‘Little girls get burned. They end up in an alley with a bullet in their brain.’”

  “Oh, God,” Ryan whispered into her hair as he brought her trembling body against his for support. He wrapped
his arms around hers. “How did you ever get away?”

  “I was so scared. So scared.” She spoke quickly and in short bursts as though fearing that any minute she would run out of breath. “I knew it was the end. But I didn’t want to die! So I started struggling again. I was desperate. I must have taken him by surprise. I surprised myself. Then I began to run.”

  “But he had a gun. Why didn’t he use it?”

  Her laugh, verging on the hysterical, held a none-too-pleasant ring. “He tried. But my legs were so wobbly that I was weaving around, running in this jagged pattern. And I started to scream. And scream. I didn’t realize I was out of the alley until I heard the screech of brakes. Then I passed out.”

  Ryan’s own legs were shaky. “Sweet Lord. Did the car hit you?”

  “No. It stopped in time. But by the time the police got there and I’d come to enough to tell what had happened, whoever had attacked me in the alley was long gone.”

  “He was never identified?”

  “No.” Enervated, she sagged back against Ryan’s strong body. As though only then realizing the point of her dissertation, she managed to turn in his arms. “But it happened. And I’ll never forget it. That’s why I was put into the program. That’s why I don’t think I’ll feel really safe until these appeals and motions are settled. And until then—” her gaze held great sorrow “—I can’t marry you. It’s bad enough that I fear something might happen to you in the course of the battle if there ever was one. This weekend, I was so frightened….”

  He kissed her brow and pressed her head to his chest. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. Or to you. I won’t let it. Sam won’t let it. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  She had to look at him again to convey her urgency. “I want to marry you, Ryan. I want to have our babies. But I don’t want either you or them to be hurt by the decisions I’ve made in my life. Can you understand that?”

  “I hear you. I’m not sure I agree. If you want to put our marriage off for a couple of months, just until something gives regarding this new trial, I won’t be happy, but I could live with it. As far as children go, though, you’re talking of time, Carly. Even if we were to marry now, it’d take nine months before a baby arrived. By then a new trial would either have taken place or be ruled out. Are you telling me that even after that you’re going to be nervous?”