by CINDI MEYERS
He caressed the side of her neck, then trailed one finger along her jaw until it rested lightly against her bottom lip. “I’ve wanted to make love to you since the first night I saw you again,” he said. “But are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She wrapped her hand around his, and kissed his fingertips. “I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. All we can count on is now. And right now, I want to be with you.”
“Then I’ll stay. And I won’t leave you until you tell me to go.”
* * *
JAKE HELPED ANNE pull her sweater over her head, then steadied her as she stripped off boots and pants. He was glad of something to do to hide the trembling in his hands as he acted out the fantasy that had played in his dreams too long. When she stood before him, naked, he smiled, remembering how bold she’d always been with him before. For all the ways she’d been forced to change in the last year, she hadn’t left that boldness behind.
She took hold of the waistband of his ski pants. “You’re still dressed,” she chided. “We must do something about that.”
He unsnapped the pants, then hesitated. “I have a lot of scars from the shooting and the surgeries afterward,” he said. “It’s not a pretty sight.”
“I saw a little yesterday and I didn’t think you were too horrifying.”
His face must have betrayed his dismay at her choice of words. She laughed and reached for him. “I’m not afraid of scars,” she said. She grasped the tab of his zipper and slowly lowered it. His erection strained against the fabric, eager for her touch. As if answering the unspoken summons, she slipped her hand into his underwear and wrapped her fingers around his length. He pulled her close and lowered his mouth to hers in a fierce, claiming kiss.
Cupping her bottom, he pulled her tight against him, his erection pressed to her stomach, the soft fullness of her breasts flattened against the hard plain of his chest. Desire pulsed between them in time with their pounding hearts. After so long a time apart he forced himself to draw out the waiting a little longer, to savor the anticipation.
Her mouth still locked to his, she tugged at his pants and underwear. He broke the kiss and quickly stripped out of the garments, and pulled his wool sweater and thermal top over his head. While his face was still buried in the tangle of clothing, she placed her hands over his ribs and began kissing her way around the puckered, white scar on his chest that marked a bullet’s path. The touch of her lips was light, little more than a flutter, but he felt the kisses deep within, touching wounds he’d shied away from examining too closely, wounds of doubt and fear and loss, soothed by her tender caresses.
He grasped her by the shoulders and urged her to stand straight. “Let me look at you,” he said.
She stood without shame, letting his gaze take in the full, firm breasts, indented waist and gently curved hips. She was thinner than she’d been before, her ribs standing out more, but she could have gained thirty pounds or lost twenty more and he wouldn’t have cared. To him, she would always be beautiful, the one woman whose body fit him perfectly.
She traced her finger along a network of scars across his chest. “Are all of these from when you were shot?” she asked.
“Some of them are from surgery to remove the bullets, and a port for IV antibiotics to fight an infection.”
Her gaze fell lower, to the scars on his legs. “I suppose you could always tell people you played football or something.”
He laughed, as much from sheer happiness as anything else. “There’s only one athletic pursuit I’m interested in at the moment,” he said, pulling her close once more.
They moved to the bed, slipping between the crisp sheets to lie facing one another. She smoothed her hands down his side, fluttering her fingers along his ribs and coming to rest on his hips. “Every time with you is new,” she said. “And yet so familiar.”
“So right.” He began kissing her again, tracing the line of her jaw, running his tongue along the tender flesh of her throat, relishing the swell of her breasts, and the way her breath caught as he drew the sensitive tip into his mouth. He nipped and licked and teased until she was breathless and writhing beneath him, her body arching upward in a silent plea that made his own desire quicken and intensify.
He moved lower still, to kiss her stomach, and the tender flesh of her inner thighs, and the softly furred mound between her thighs, stroking and coaxing while she moaned her delight. He ached for her, but refused to give in to that aching until he had shown her every pleasure.
She put her hands on his shoulders, urging him upward. “I want you in me,” she pleaded.
“Your wish is my command.” He moved his body alongside hers, then leaned over to open the drawer beside the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I thought we needed this.” He opened his palm to reveal the condom he’d taken from the drawer.
She smiled. “You think of everything.”
“I try to be prepared.”
“Were you so sure you’d get me into your bed?”
“I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t going to let anything spoil the moment if I had the chance.”
She held out her hand. “Allow me.”
He handed her the packet and she tore it open and removed the condom, then knelt before him and rolled it on. He held his breath and tried to think of something mundane—multiplication tables or tax codes or anything else to keep him from flying apart as her hands closed around him.
Condom in place, he pushed her gently back against the pillows and knelt between her legs. She flashed a coy smile and reached down to guide him in, and then together they began to move in a dance whose moves they had not forgotten in a year apart. She smiled up at him, face suffused with joy as they increased their tempo, anticipation and tension building.
He slipped his hand between them to fondle her, and was rewarded with a breathy “Yes!” Her eyelids fluttered and her head fell back as passion overtook her. “Jake,” she cried, then louder, “Jake!” A sound of triumph and completion as she tightened around him.
He held on for a few more thrusts, then surrendered to his own need, months of fear and worry and denial vanquished in the letting go.
They lay crushed together for a long moment, coming back to themselves, waiting for breath and heart to slow. At last, he rolled off of her, but she clung to him, pressing her face against his chest.
“What are we going to do, Jake?” she asked after a while, after he’d pulled the covers over them and was drifting toward sleep.
“What are we going to do about what?” He forced himself out of slumber, and smoothed his hand down her back, reassuring himself that yes, she was real, and this was no dream.
“About tomorrow, to start with. I know you don’t think I should go with Sammy to see my father.”
So reality would insist on intruding on this moment. Well, that was what had brought them here, after all. “I don’t trust Sammy,” he said. “He was too smug. Too sure of himself.”
“He was like that before—don’t you remember? He’s my father’s son, and all the men in my family have that cocky attitude. It’s all about power and control. Never let anyone see you sweat.”
“He’s jealous of you and of your relationship with your father.” As much as he disliked Sammy, he didn’t blame him for the jealousy. Even in Jake’s brief time with the family, he’d seen the difference in the way Sam Giardino treated his children, spoiling his daughter and denying his son. “Maybe he thinks he can raise himself up in your father’s eyes by delivering you to the old man on a platter.”
“Maybe you’re right. But my father loved me more than anything else in the world,” she said.
“You said before that kind of love might turn to hate.”
“Did your love for me turn to hate?”
she asked.
“No.” He kissed her forehead. “Never.”
“I thought I could convince myself to hate you, but it turned out to be impossible.” She settled her head against his chest once more. “Once I knew you were alive again, all my old feelings for you started growing again. I don’t think you can ever turn off or put aside love like that.”
“No, you can’t,” he agreed. Love like that could keep you going through hell. It could make life worth living—and make you miserable, sometimes at the same time. “And you still love him.”
“Yes. In spite of everything, I do. If there’s a chance to patch things up with him, I have to take it.”
“And then what? You let him go on his way, back to his life of crime? He welcomes you back into the family fold and you go back to being the pampered mafia princess?”
She rose up on one elbow, so she could look him in the eyes. “I could never go back to that life,” she said. “I’d have to leave again, but at least I could do so knowing I still had a family. I still had a father who loved me, no matter how flawed he is.”
“And after you leave, I’ll have to bring in Thompson and his men to arrest your father. And your brother, too, if he tries to interfere.” One thing he wouldn’t do was lie to her—not ever again.
She nodded. “I know. And I’ll admit part of me would feel guilty, but I’ve learned to live with guilt.”
“Have you considered that your father might not let you leave?”
Her expression clouded. Clearly, she hadn’t thought about this possibility. “He couldn’t keep me prisoner,” she said.
“I think he has the manpower and the resources to do whatever he wants,” Jake said. “Including keeping his beloved daughter by his side forever—whether she wants to stay there or not.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t stay. I could never live like that again. He’d have to see—”
“I think your father has made a life out of seeing what he wants to see.”
Her eyes met his, filled with sadness, but also determination. “You’re probably right. If he tries to keep me with him, you should contact Patrick.”
“I’d do that. But I wouldn’t leave rescuing you up to the Marshals. I’d have to do what I could to save you.”
“I’d be counting on it.” She lay back down, nestled against him once more, and he held her closely, wishing that was enough to protect her, to truly keep her safe.
He never heard her crying, but he felt the tears, hot and damp on his chest. He lifted her chin and his anxiety rose at the sight of wet tracks down her cheeks. “Why are you crying?”
She shook her head, smiling through the tears. “It’s just... Why does the world have to be so screwed up?”
Why, indeed? He lay back, and cradled her head in the hollow of his shoulder. “Don’t think about that now,” he said. Soon enough, they’d have to face the future, a future that didn’t hold any promise that they could be together. But worrying wouldn’t change anything that was to come. Better to hold on to the present for a little bit longer.
Chapter Seventeen
Sammy called as Anne and Jake were finishing breakfast. She’d spent the night in his room, doing her best to savor the moments and not worry about the future. She could admit now—if only to herself—that she still loved Jake. But how could she ask him to give up everything to join her in hiding in witness protection? And if she left WitSec she doubted she’d fit into his life. Though he hadn’t said, she suspected he had hopes of returning to a career in law enforcement; being linked to the daughter of a mafia don would make that ambition impossible to realize.
So it was with a heavy heart that she answered the phone and heard her brother’s voice on the other end. “I’ll pick you up in front of your hotel at ten-thirty,” he said, then hung up before she could ask any questions.
“That was Sammy,” she said as she replaced the phone in the cradle. “He says he’ll be here at ten-thirty.”
“Did he give you any idea of what your father thinks of this reunion?”
“No. He didn’t say anything else.” She studied the silent phone. “Maybe we should call Patrick.”
“Maybe we should. He’ll tell you the same thing I did—don’t go. Will you listen to him?”
“If I don’t go, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I had.” She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Courage. “Besides, this is our best chance to pin down Sam’s location. This is the closest anyone has come to him in a year.” She forced a smile. “Once I’ve left the house, you’ll be able to get him.” They’d already discussed the possibility that her father might not allow her to leave. No sense bringing that up again. She’d deal with that problem if it presented itself.
“I know I said that’s what I wanted,” Jake said. “But it’s not worth risking your life over.”
“If I don’t confront him I could lose my life anyway. He’s either responsible for sending those men to kill me, or he knows who is.”
Worry made Jake look ten years older. “I wish you’d let me come with you.”
“You’d never even get into the car. I don’t trust Sammy not to shoot you on sight.”
She expected him to argue more, but he only nodded. “I’ll be waiting for your calls. Every half hour or I’ll send in the cavalry.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll call.” Just hearing his voice would give her the courage she’d need to get through this. She and Jake had both purchased new phones yesterday—cheap pay-as-you-go models that would allow them to keep in touch today. She stood. “I’d better get ready.”
She took her time with her hair and makeup. Her father appreciated glamour in a woman, and though she didn’t like to admit it, Sammy’s comment yesterday about her looking like a schoolteacher had stung.
When she emerged from the bathroom shortly after ten, Jake let out a low whistle. “You look gorgeous,” he said, and pulled her to him.
“Don’t smudge the makeup,” she said, and offered her cheek for a kiss.
He squeezed her waist, and brushed his lips against one cheek. “You’d better go down,” he said. “I’m going to watch from the lobby, just in case.”
Promptly at ten-thirty, the black SUV pulled under the portico. Anne was surprised to see Sammy driving. People in her family seldom ventured out without a bodyguard. She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.
“I see you didn’t chicken out,” he said as she fastened her seat belt.
“Did you think I would?”
“You never would have before, but it’s been a year. No telling what kind of brainwashing the feds have been doing.”
There was no right answer to an accusation like that, so she chose to ignore it.
“So what have you been up to for the past year?” Sammy asked. “The old man spent a fortune trying to track you down and came up with zilch.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t after me.” Renewed fear that she was, in fact, on the way to her execution, rose up to paralyze her.
“He didn’t want to kill you—he wanted to bring you home. Where he thought you belonged.”
“Oh.” She forced herself to look more relaxed, though her heart still pounded.
“So where have you been?” he asked. “Did they really give you a new name and everything?”
“Yes, they gave me a new name. And a new job and a house and car. It’s a very well-organized program.”
“I’ll bet. But you’re not going to share any details.”
“I really don’t think I should.” She looked out the window, at the crowds moving toward the ski gondola or filling the shops along the town’s main street. “How far is it to the house where you all are staying?”
“Not far.” He hunched over the steering wheel,
tapping out a jerky rhythm with his fingers as they inched through morning traffic. When a car somewhere behind them backfired, he jumped and swore.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t everything be okay?”
“I don’t know. You seem nervous.”
“You’re the one who should be nervous. Pop isn’t going to be happy when he finds out you’re still with Jake.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t already told him.”
“I haven’t told him anything. I told him I was bringing someone to see him this morning who he needed to talk to.”
“So he doesn’t know it’s me.”
Sammy grimaced. “I wanted it to be a surprise. One he’d remember me for.”
A shiver went through her. Was Sammy intent on making a good memory, or a bad one?
“He won’t like knowing about Jake, though,” Sammy continued. “He’ll probably send someone to take him out.”
“I’m not ‘with’ Jake,” she said. “I didn’t even really want to come here with him, but he didn’t give me much choice. I’ll probably never see him again after this.” The lies rolled off her tongue, but she couldn’t tell if Sammy believed her.
“Pop will be glad to hear it,” he said. “Maybe with you back in the fold, he’ll get off my back—though I doubt it. He always had a double standard where the two of us were concerned.”
“You know I always took your side against him.”
“You did. And he’d listen to you, when he wouldn’t listen to me.” He looked thoughtful, less agitated. Though she struggled to remain outwardly calm, her insides were roiling, heart pounding with fear—fear for her physical safety, yes. But also fear of being disappointed, of seeing her father look at her once more with hatred instead of love.
They left behind the last buildings of Telluride and turned onto a gravel county road that climbed into the mountains, past clusters of small houses and abandoned mine machinery. After a few more miles they turned onto a paved road that wound through acres of carefully positioned trees and miles of five-rail wooden fencing. She might have been looking at a painting entitled “A Colorado Estate in Winter.”