Save You (Crave #2)

by Ryan Parker

  “Not even just to gain important health information? Whatever that affliction was that haunted her childhood, well, I’m sure there are better doctors around should the problem arise again. God willing, it won’t.”

  “I think she’s going to be okay in that regard.” At least, I hoped she would.

  Wilshire frowned. I knew how much he valued family. The death of his son and the death of my family were what brought us together in the first place.

  “She may not have any interest now,” he said, “but someday she might. If for no other reason than to simply answer the ‘who’ and ‘why’ questions. My advice to you, Mr. Finn, is to let her come to that conclusion on her own, of course, but when she does—and I think she will—you should put your best intelligence gathering skills to work on that issue and that one only. You’re an excellent investigator. Now, even though you and I are technically ending our business arrangement, I’ll promise you one thing.” He grinned.

  I smiled back at him. “Yes, sir?”

  “When the time comes for you to find out about her past, you’ll have the full resources of my intelligence network at your disposal.”

  He was very insistent about it. I hadn’t even considered it before he brought it up, mainly because Rachel hadn’t expressed any desire to know. But I knew if it ever became an issue that I would do anything and everything in my power to get whatever information she needed.

  “Count on it, sir.”

  He held up his teacup as if toasting to me. I returned the gesture.

  “We’ll talk later in the week. Until then, promise me you will show your lovely Rachel a good time, yes? Let her know she made the right decisions along the way, especially the one about coming here with you. And that, Mr. Finn, is my final order.”

  I stood, thanking him, and began to walk toward the door.

  “One more thing,” he called out. “Over here on the desk. It’s just out of my reach. There’s an envelope for you.”

  I walked over to the desk and picked it up without saying anything.

  Mr. Wilshire winked. “Just a little something to help you and Ms. Holt get a fresh start. No need to look in there now. You can open it later. Oh, and I’ll have food sent up to your room.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight (Rachel)

  After leaving Finn and Mr. Wilshire, I walked around the house, slowly, taking it all in—the marble floors and staircases, two elevators, high ceilings with enormous chandeliers, the kitchen that felt almost as big as some houses I’d lived in, the dining room with a table that must have sat forty people, indoor fountains and gardens…all of that and more, and that was just the first floor.

  I wanted to look outside while it was still light enough. I could explore the rest of the house later.

  It was warm and a soft breeze rolled across the enormous estate. Off in the distance, I saw a lake with a boathouse, and in the other direction, a fenced-in area with stables. I didn’t see any horses, but there were people carrying buckets around the area, so I figured there would be some.

  On the other side of the mansion, a helicopter sat on a helipad.

  I walked around the perimeter of the mansion and found an enormous patio and gazebo, right next to an irregularly shaped pool with underwater lighting, and a grotto with a waterfall at the far end.

  The combination of the breeze and the sound of the water trickling into the pool was too relaxing to leave. I sat in one of the lounge chairs, fighting the urge to close my eyes. I was tired and hungry, a bad combination. I didn’t want to close my eyes and fall asleep because I didn’t want to miss anything, but I also needed a rest.

  The relaxation ended when I heard gunshots off in the distance. For a brief second, I thought maybe they were firecrackers, but I knew they weren’t. I stood, looking around, wondering what was happening.

  I went back to the side of the house where I had seen the lake and the stables in the distance, and I saw then that there was a clearing even farther out on the property. I saw flashes first, then heard more shots. It was a firing range.

  I relaxed again, remembering when Finn told me his entire story and had mentioned that they had all trained here on Wilshire’s farm. I watched as more rounds were fired, wondering what specific mission these guys might be training for, and hoping like hell Finn hadn’t signed up for yet another one himself.

  With the noise from the gun range and the wind picking up, I didn’t hear him walking up behind me. He wrapped his arms around me and I flinched at first, but without looking over my shoulder I knew it was Finn.

  “I’m starving and tired. How about you?” he said.

  “Both.”

  He kissed my ear, then my neck, his mouth holding there for a moment as I felt his warm lips sucking lightly on my skin. I felt him growing hard, pressing against my lower back.

  “You know,” he said, “we could drop down on one of those poolside lounges and go for it right there.”

  “Outside?” I said.

  Finn ran his lips down my neck, then back up toward my jaw, his tongue drawing a line along the way.

  “It’s getting dark enough,” he whispered. “No one will see.”

  I paused, just taking in the feeling of him standing behind me and holding me tight, trying to seduce me with his words and doing a good job of it. “What if I want to see?” I said, spinning around to face him and pressing my palms to his chest.

  “Then we really should go upstairs,” he said, just before his lips pressed to mine.

  . . . . .

  Finn led me back into the house and to the second floor, down the long hallway and to our suite. A food cart was outside our door.

  “Fancy,” I said, looking at the silver cover that hid the main dish, a basket of bread wrapped in a white cloth, an arrangement of fruit and cheese, and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

  I reached for the silver cover, curious to see what was under it. It was warm to the touch.

  Finn touched my wrist. “Let’s wait until we’re in the room.”

  I opened the door to find exactly what I should have expected by now—pure luxury. Finn pushed the cart into the room and I walked around and looked at everything: the bed, with one corner of the sheets and comforter turned down; the bathroom, with a huge jet tub and an open shower with slate walls; and the balcony. I opened the French doors and the breeze made the curtains dance in the air.

  I stepped outside to the edge of the balcony.

  Finn came up behind me as I stepped toward the edge, his arms on either side of me, hands locking onto the wrought iron railing, caging me in.

  The gun range had quieted down for the night, the sound of shots being fired replaced by the soft trickling of water in the fountain off to our right in the yard.

  “I can’t believe this,” I said. “This is amazing.”

  Finn kissed my neck. “Believe it.”

  I tilted my head, giving him better access to my neck, wanting to feel his lips on me.

  “Come back inside.” He stepped back, putting his hand on my hip, urging me to follow him. “I’m going to keep you up for a long, exhausting night. You’ll need to eat.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine (Finn)

  It’s just after 5 a.m. when I wake up, surprised to find that Rachel is awake as well. She’s propped up on an elbow, facing away from me.

  I move closer to her and she looks over her shoulder. I see that her eyes are wide and bloodshot. She looks away again.

  “Have you been crying?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

  She hesitates before answering. “I haven’t slept at all.”

  I consider that her internal clock is screwed up.

  “I don’t want to sleep,” she adds.

  I laugh, thinking she’s just so excited she doesn’t want to waste a second of our time here.

  “You should sleep. We have all the time in the world now. We can do whatever you want. I was thinking last night that in all o
f the time we’ve spent together, I’ve yet to take you on a proper date and I should remedy that as soon as possible.”

  She looks back over her shoulder.

  I smile.

  “That sounds great,” she says, and I know she means it but there’s a flatness in her tone and I’m sure it isn’t there because she’s tired.

  “What’s wrong, Rachel? Talk to me.”

  She looks away again before answering. “I’m afraid if I fall asleep, I’ll wake up and all of this will have been a dream.”

  My heart aches at her answer. I kiss her shoulder, moving closer to her, our bodies fitting together. “It’s real. I’m real. This place is real.” I pause for a moment before saying, “You promised me you would trust me. Trust me, this is real. We’re real.”

  She nods.

  “Get some sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

  I kiss the top of her head. Her hair is soft and smells like strawberries. After coming in off the balcony, planning to eat, I couldn’t resist her anymore and I pulled her onto the bed, shedding her clothes. We ate afterwards, made love again, and then took a shower. It was shortly after that when I fell asleep.

  We’re silent, and I notice within a few minutes that her breathing changes. It slows and becomes even.

  She’s sleeping.

  I know I won’t be able to.

  Now it’s my turn to stay awake, but I don’t have to hope this isn’t a dream. I know it isn’t.

  It’s real. It has all been real. I know it is because there’s still a little pain, the kind you can’t feel in dreams.

  I feel it when I think that sometime in the next few days I will find a way to visit my family’s graves alone. I’ll take Rachel there at some point, if she wishes, but this time I’ll need to do it alone.

  I feel the pain when I think of everything Rachel has been through in her life.

  But all of that is gradually diminishing.

  We’ve both been through some horrible things in our lives, and anybody would be hard-pressed to find a silver lining in it.

  Still, I can’t help but struggle with the fact that all of the loss and heartache is what brought us together. Two people born an ocean apart. Two people pushed into isolation by very different events. Two people whose every decision—even the minor ones—led them to each other.

  Our lives had been shattered through no fault of our own, and when we found each other, that was the beginning of putting the pieces back together. No longer alone and shattered. Now, together and shatterproof.

  I don’t know what tomorrow brings. I can’t control the world from crashing all around us. All I can do is control how I react to it, if it does.

  I touch my lips to her bare shoulder, kissing her, smelling her freshly bathed skin.

  The French doors leading out to the balcony were open all night. This morning the breeze has died down a little, but still makes the curtains swell and rise and fall again. I watch as dawn breaks and lights the world for a new day.

  I hold Rachel tight, knowing that together we will always find a way through the darkness.