"Sounds like Sutherland."
I nodded. She must have known I was in trouble. I can't imagine what she thought—well, I probably could. She must have assumed I was on the run from an abusive husband. That's probably what everyone thought.
"She asked me my name. I don't know why I lied, it just sort of came out."
"And you've stayed all this time?"
I looked over at him, at his dark eyes and the dark shadow that was growing quickly over his jaw. I reached over and touched it, the hair rough against my fingertips.
"It's the first home Cassidy ever had. She's better off there."
I could see Lance struggle to understand my choices. I knew it was a foreign concept to him, the idea that a mother could abandon her child. But I knew in my heart Cassidy had a better chance without me than with me.
"He doesn't know about her. It's me he's after. If I leave her with Sutherland and move on, she'll be safe. She won't have to say goodbye to her friends. She won't have to move on every few months. She won't have to be afraid."
He nodded. "That would probably be better for her." But then his big, beautiful eyes came up to my face. "But what about you?"
I couldn't even think about that right now. I gathered up my trash and shoved it back into the fast food bag, then pulled my seatbelt back on.
"We should go. I want to get to Cheyenne before it's dark."
He didn't argue, didn't try to make me answer his question. He'd been very kind in his curiosity, not asking me more than he thought I'd be willing to say, not pushing me when I deflected. He was more patient than I had a right to ask of him. I adored him for that, adored him for how good he was to me. I didn't deserve it. My entire life had been based on one lie after another. I didn't deserve his kindness. Yet, he was happily offering it. Too bad this was going to have to end. I couldn't take him with me, couldn't ask him to live this life. I already had it planned. One more night, then in the morning... I had no choice.
Kennedy had taken that away from me a long time ago.
Chapter 17
Lance
We arrived in Cheyenne at rush hour. I insisted on a motel and she relented, taking a wad of money and a fake ID out of one of her boots.
"A habit I couldn't quite break," she explained.
We checked in, then drove the car a little over five miles away and abandoned it in a parking lot not unlike the one where we first took it. Then we shopped, bought clean shirts and toiletries, a little food, before taking the city bus back to the motel. She showered, then sent me in, her fingers grazing my jaw in such a way that I couldn't tell if she was anxious for me to shave it or if she was liking the new look.
It itched like crazy. I decided to shave it.
I stood under the hot spray for a long time after I washed up, enjoying being truly warm for the first time since Friday morning. It'd been an adventure, but I was sure I wouldn't be volunteering to go on winter camping trips again any time soon.
I was looking forward to stretching out on a proper bed, too. The ground was hard and cold and... not again.
I stepped out of the shower and wiped the mirror clean of steam and stared at myself for a long moment. What was I doing here? On the job for a month and I was already running away, escaping life again. I dropped out of college, convinced I wasn't cut out to be a lifelong student. I joined the Army, thinking I wanted to save the world, but ended up leaving after just two tours of duty. I couldn't go home, couldn't face my parents with no job, no plans for the future, so I took a couple of jobs in private security, working as a glorified security guard in Ft. Worth before hearing about Gray Wolf. I thought I was really making a go of it this time, that I was really going to make this work. The moment I saw Becky in the barn, I thought I knew what I wanted. But it didn't include this, didn't include going on the run from some homicidal FBI agent.
What the hell was I doing? Could I really be happy never seeing my family again, never finding a place where I belonged?
But, again, when I was with Becky, that was all the belonging I needed.
Could we do this? Could we make this work?
The thing holding me back now was Cassidy. I'd watched Becky with her daughter these last few days. She adored that child. No matter how much she believed she was doing the right thing, I knew she wasn't. She couldn't survive without that child.
If we left now, I'd be running with a broken woman. How long could that last?
I sighed as I slapped a little aftershave onto my face and pulled on the clean boxers we'd just purchased. Becky was curled up on the bed, her back to me. I thought for a moment she was asleep, but then her shoulders shivered and I could see that she was crying, hiding her sobs in the fluff of her pillow. I slid into the bed behind her and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her head back against my shoulder.
I wanted to tell her it would be okay, but even I didn't believe it.
"Listen," I said softly against her ear, "I have a friend, some money stashed away. He could arrange passports with new names, new identities. Why don't we go back and get Cassidy, leave the country? Kennedy can't follow us to Ireland or France, Belize or...I don't know, somewhere where they don't have an extradition treaty. Especially if he doesn't know who he's looking for. He's after a woman alone, not the three of us, not a family. We'll buy a villa out in the middle of nowhere, homeschool Cass and live a quiet life off the grid. He'll never find us. No one will find us."
She didn't answer. Instead, she turned in my arms and pressed her face to my bare chest, her lips brushing the thin hair between my pecs. I ran my hand over her long, wet hair, down around her face for the first time I could remember since the day we met. I lifted it off her neck, held it in my hand, pressing my lips to her throat. She sighed as she sought out my mouth, kissing me with a lingering touch that almost hurt.
We kissed for a long time, the taste of her tears warm and sad all at the same time. I slipped my hands under her t-shirt, my body responding to the feel of hers with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. It took everything I had to go slow, to take it a step at a time. That childish, immature part of me wanted to pick her up and toss her onto the mattress, to ravage her like we were teenagers and she was nothing more than a means to an end. But that's not who I was—anymore—and it wasn't who she was.
Slow and gentle. That was the prescription for this night.
I lifted her shirt off her body and pressed her back against the pillows, loving the way her brown hair seemed to glow with gold highlights against the white pillows. She watched me closely as I leaned over her, a desire to trust in her eyes, but she wasn't quite there. After everything she'd been through, who could blame her? It would take time. And time was a luxury for us, one we might not have much of.
I ran my hands down the length of her arms, over her hips, along the outside of her thighs. Back up, my lips brushing over her throat, her breasts. I drew a nipple between my lips and suckled it, loving the way she arched her back, the way that teeny piece of erectile tissue swelled in my mouth. She ran her fingers through my hair as I did the same to her other nipple, as I tasted the flesh under her breasts before slowly traveling down the center of her belly, dipping the tip of my tongue inside her navel on my way by. I could feel her eyes on me as I moved lower along her tight body, touching her in all the places I knew would bring her pleasure.
Her thighs closed as I tried to taste that one spot, that private place she hadn't shared in such a long time. They opened almost immediately, but the second I grazed the top edge of her clit, they clamped down again. I pressed my lips to her lower belly, blowing against her a little in my frustration. She relaxed her legs again and I took advantage, diving my head low and sliding my tongue against her opening, tasting the juices that were already flowing freely. She moaned, reaching down to touch the back of my head. She didn't block me this time, however, but welcomed me, welcomed the pleasure that danced through her lower belly.
I wanted to bring her to her peak, wanted to f
eel the quiver of her muscles as the ultimate pleasure washed through her. I wanted to see it in her eyes, wanted to hear it on her lips. I could never get enough of her pleasure, could never stop wanting to see and hear it. Even the pain of her fingernails biting into my scalp didn't do a thing to dampen my need. I wanted her to know the best this life had to offer after all the pain and fear she'd been forced to live with.
Her thighs pressed hard against the sides of my head when the moment came, putting me in a vise I couldn't say I completely objected to. She cried out, the sound like the best music ever created. I slid up the length of her body, pressed my cock hard against her moist opening. She accepted me, her legs wrapping themselves around my waist. She held me still for a long moment, still riding that wave of ultimate desire fulfilled. When she let me go, we moved quickly into a gentle rhythm that lasted only long enough for her breathing to ratchet up again, for her muscles to begin to clench around me again. And when she hit that high for the second time, I was right there with her, jumping off that cliff with her hand tight in mine.
She didn't speak for so long afterward that I thought she'd fallen asleep. I held her against my chest, ran my hand over her naked back under the thin sheet we'd pulled up over our bodies. I closed my eyes, exhaustion resting heavy on my shoulders.
"You would really do that?" she suddenly asked in the darkness. "You would leave your home, your family, everything you've ever known, to disappear with me?"
"In a heartbeat."
"But we'd have to go back to MidKnight."
"I could arrange for Hank to meet us somewhere. He'd do it."
She nodded, more aware than I of Hank's generous nature. "But what would he tell Sutherland? What would he tell the others?"
"I don't know. I guess we'll figure that out."
She was quiet again, her fingers dancing over my wrist as she considered the idea.
"You could be with Cassidy. You wouldn't have to leave her behind."
"But we'd have to go right away. We'd have to be out of the state in a matter of hours or he'd find us."
"New names. New social security numbers. I have a friend I met in the Army, he could arrange it all for us."
"And then we'd be out of the country?"
"In less than forty-eight hours. I've seen him do it for other people."
Again, she was quiet for a long time. I was drifting off, nearly asleep when she finally said, "Okay. Let's do it."
Chapter 18
At the Ranch
Sutherland sat with the girls until late in the night, holding Cassidy in her arms as the child struggled to sleep. She was a trooper, this blond-haired child, but when they returned from the search with her mother's horse, but without her mother, her strength began to ebb. She kept her chin up as she picked at her dinner and watched a reality show—a rare treat—with Elizabeth. But sleep was a fleeting desire. And once she managed to keep her eyes closed longer than a few moments, nightmares caused her to cry out in the dark.
It was very late when Sutherland felt secure enough to leave the room. She went to her own bedroom, the bedroom she was always meant to share with Mitchell, but never had. They never came to this house as husband and wife. He brought her here once while they were dating, showed her all the land and the things that made it a special place for him. They made love once under an oak tree that grew alone in the middle of the south pasture. But this place that was meant to be their home had only been a weekend getaway early in their relationship.
Sometimes the lack of history made her feel like a fraud, like she didn't belong here anymore than the stranger who bought the Circle B Ranch next door or the couple who bought out the Brandt farm down the road.
I'm a fraud and I've lost the only sister I've ever had, she thought as she stood at the window that looked out toward the north pasture.
This life had always felt fragile. It always felt as though a wind blowing the wrong direction might tear it all away from her. It had never felt as fragile as it did right now.
She wasn't as strong as everyone thought she was. She'd had her share of nightmares in this room, had cried her share of tears against those pillows. She pretended to be strong because that was what everyone expected of her. But she wasn't strong and she was tired of the performance tonight. She needed someone to lean on, needed someone to take the burden from her shoulders even if it was only for a few minutes.
Without thinking about it, Sutherland grabbed a sweater from the back of a chair and charged out of the house. There were no lights on in the windows, no indication he was even home. But when she approached the front door, he was there, leaning against the frame with his ankles crossed, a drink in his hand.
"I thought midnight visits were discouraged," he said. "Someone might see us and all that..."
"Shut up," she said, pressing her body against his, her lips seeking his with a need that burned deep.
He tossed the glass—she could hear it shatter somewhere behind her—and drew her tight into his arms, turning her so that they fell through the doorway, his hands moving from the backs of her arms to her waist, sliding under her sweater up along her back. It was as though the past twenty-four hours hadn't happened, like they were right back in her kitchen, his hands under her shirt, hers tugging at his shirt. The only difference was, his shirt hit the floor this time.
He pressed her hard against the wall, his lips moving from hers to her chin, creating a heated path down her throat. He pushed her sweater down the length of her arms, his hands already tugging her shirt up over her head. She stood still as he undressed her, his fingers tearing at the back of her bra, his teeth tugging at her nipples. She ran her hands over the back of his head, her memory screaming that it wasn't right, that his hair was too long. She pushed the thought away, pushed away all the memories of a past that was long dead.
She needed this. She needed to forget for a while. Wasn't it her turn to be weak for once? Wasn't it her turn to feel a little pleasure for once?
Bodhi looked up at her as though gauging her intentions. And then he dropped to his knees, this powerful, beautiful man who could have had any woman he wanted, dropped to his knees in front of her. Sutherland was overwhelmed by this idea, touched by his show of vulnerability. And then he was tugging at her jeans and her eyes rolled back into her head as his mouth slipped down over her lower belly and against her pubic pad, against places she hadn't been touched in so long she almost couldn't remember the last time.
It was insane! She was standing naked in the foyer of a home she'd been an invited guest in only a handful of times over the last decade. It looked nothing like the home she'd known then, when it was owned by her neighbors, her... she wanted to say friends, but had they really been friends? They waved when they passed on the road, made deals with one another in regards to their shared fence line, their stud fees and grazing rights. But had they really been friends?
And then... oh, God. She couldn't think anymore. His fingers opened her up, his tongue teased the swollen flesh of her cunt lips, licking away the evidence of her arousal. He looked up at her, this deviousness in his eyes that excited her more than it should have. And then he was inside of her, his fingers, his tongue, doing things that showcased his skills as a lover. This man knew his way around a woman's body, knew where to touch her, how to touch her. He made her want to do things with him—to him—she'd never done before.
As capable as everyone assumed Sutherland was, this was one thing in which she was deeply inexperienced. Mitchell was not her first, but he might as well have been. And the nature of their courtship, their mutual deployments in the year in which they were together, made their time alone infrequent and brief. Long enough to conceive a child, but not long enough to explore the more erotic sides of intimacy. She'd never felt anything like what Bodhi was doing to her, never knew there could be so much pleasure concentrated on such a small part of her body.
He used his teeth, his lips, his tongue. He did things she had never even imagined. And he to
ok his time, touching her until her knees went weak and her breathing became a thing she had to focus on rather than a thing that worked independently and silently, a thing she rarely thought about. She leaned over, rested her hands on his shoulders, these sounds escaping her lips she was sure she hadn't been capable of until this moment. And then the world seemed to explode with lights, fireworks going off in her own head as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure shot from her toes to the roots of her hair.
She wasn't even aware of the moment he lifted her up. She felt his arms around her, was aware of the security that came with being carried in the arms of a strong, capable man. He took her upstairs, his lips grazing her forehead from time to time as he navigated whatever obstacles stood between him and his destination. She was a little more aware when he laid her in the center of a massive bed, clinging to his shoulders as he tried to pull away. She would never forget the smile he offered her as he untangled himself from her limbs, a promise of more pleasure to come. She watched him move, watched him turn his back and settle on the edge of the mattress, heard his heavy boots hit the floor as he removed first one, then the other. She'd never considered how erotic it could be to watch a man undress until that moment. And the funny thing was, she'd seen him do it before. There always seemed to be a scene in his movies—movies Elizabeth had dragged Sutherland to see multiple times over the last few years—in which he was either undressing or redressing. She, like millions of movie goers, knew that ass very well. But she'd never seen the tattoo low on his hip or the thick, ropy scar along his left shoulder blade.
He slipped onto the bed beside her, pulling the thin sheet up over both their waists. Then he tugged her against the length of hid body, his hands sliding over her sides, her hips. She reached for him, but he tugged her hands away, trapping them over her head as he came in for a deep, incredibly satisfying, kiss.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered against her mouth, his lips grazing her chin as he dipped down to nibble at her throat. Everything that had turned down a notch in the transportation from downstairs to upstairs suddenly came to life again, the fire turned back to high. She moved her hips, trying to feel him, to touch him in any way she could. She'd completely forgotten about the burden of her problems, completely forgot all the reasons she'd resisted allowing this to happen. Her need, her desire, her simple wanting overshadowed everything.
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