by KyAnn Waters
“Yeah, that’s part of it. We’re getting married on Sunday.”
“And we want the two of you there with us,” McKenna interrupted.
Dawn’s knees buckled. She sat in the nearest lawn chair. “A little sudden, don’t you think?”
“We know what we want.” McKenna went to Dawn and sat next to her. “You’ve always known what I want. Look at him,” she whispered. “I love him.”
Dawn’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Christ,” Tyson mumbled. “Are you a cry baby at weddings, too?” He shook his head. “She acts tough,” he said to Dustin. “Really she’s a softy.”
“As long as I’m the only one you’re touching who’s soft,” she said with a sniffle. “And I can cry when my girl tells me she’s fallen in love.”
“Just don’t get any romantic notions,” he mumbled. “Can you imagine Dawn as an ex-wife?” he said to Dustin. “You’d have to put a bullet in me.”
Dustin raised an eyebrow. “Dawn will be loyal as long as you are—”
“Let’s eat,” Tyson interrupted. “One of Dawn’s many rules,” he said moving around Dustin. “Can’t use the ‘c’ word.”
“The ‘c’ word?” Dustin asked as he followed Tyson into the house.
“Commitment,” he quietly spoke while looking at Dawn.
“I heard.”
Tyson laughed. “She’s put an end to my player ways.” He set the brats on the counter where Dawn had spread out the rest of the food. “Pearce, I’ve never met anyone like her,” he said seriously. “The girl makes me laugh.”
“Two weeks ago we thought McKenna was a cold blooded killer.” They watched Dawn and McKenna as they slowly made their way into the house. McKenna recounted the proposal and then held out her hand to Dawn.
“I thought you were hungry,” Tyson hollered to Dawn.
“We’re coming.”
Dustin and Tyson looked at each other with wide grins. “She always leaves herself open for a comeback.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Dustin lifted the garage door with his clicker. He already felt at home, although it would be different when he actually lived here. It wouldn’t just be his home. McKenna wanted his daughter as well. Janie would have her own room upstairs. Probably pink and frilly so his little girl could be a princess, too.
The door leading to the kitchen opened. McKenna stood in the doorjamb wearing an old pair of jeans and a faded top with a tear on the shoulder. Blonde hair came loose from a haphazard pile on top of her head.
Creaking on the hinges, his truck door opened. “Hi,” he said, coming around the front of the vehicle. Standing on the bottom step, he put his hands on her hips while she stood on the step above him.
“You’re early,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “What’ve you been up to?”
She looked away while she gathered her hair. “Not the image you expect to find coming home from a long day.”
Her lips were warm and moist as he silenced her with a kiss. His body responded. He stepped up, pulled her close and nestle his erection against the V of her sex. One hand traveled up the wall until he touched the button to close the garage door.
“I’m going to get used to this.” She smiled as their lips continued to touch.
Dustin followed her into the kitchen and gave a low whistle when he saw the amount of clutter covering the counters, floor and table.
“I figured if Elliot wants to be dead, he doesn’t need any of this.” Suits and sweaters filled boxes stacked against the wall. “The donation truck is coming tomorrow. Before Sunday, I want everything to do with Elliot out of my life to make room for you and Janie. I thought she would like my room, and we’ll move into the master bedroom.”
Dustin draped his suit jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and slipped his gun and shoulder harness off. “What’s this?” He picked up an old photo from the table. The edges had yellowed and one of the corners had been torn off.
“I found it stuck to an old photo album in the bottom of a box. It was too heavy just to be clothes, so I dumped it out.”
“Were there any other photos?” He turned the picture over to look at the back.
“Yes.” Excitement laced her voice. “There are pictures of my mother before she married Elliot.” She took the picture from his fingers. “There’s a name on the back of this one. Do you think he could be my father?” She stared at the couple on the front of the picture. “I always thought I looked like my mother.”
“Yes, you do resemble her.” Dustin compared the couple in the picture to the woman before him. “I’m trained to notice details,” he said with a note of humor to his voice. “I definitely think it’s a possibility that this is your father. You have his lips and ears.”
“I have a name. It’s a start.”
McKenna went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer for Dustin. Butterflies filled her stomach as she watched him shift from capable detective into the man who made her pulse beat a few ticks faster with a glance.
“Is something wrong?” He tenderly touched her cheek.
Nothing was wrong except every time he looked at her, she ached for more. “I’ve thought about you all day, and you’re finally home. I don’t want to clean out any more closets. I feel like spending fifteen minutes kissing in one.” She sighed trying to even out her breathing. “And that just isn’t like me.” She stared at him for a moment. “Oh, jeez, did I just say all that?” She covered her eyes with her palm.
Dustin took her by the hand and led her to the family room, the one with the big screen TV, surround sound, and comfortable pillow couches. “What you’re saying,” he said, turning on the television, “is you want to make out.” He stretched out and pulled her down beside him. “I’m warning you.” His voice grew deep and husky. Freeing her hair from the clip on top of her head, he continued, “Now that I’ve been inside of you—” His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips. “I won’t be able to stop with a kiss.” Searing a trail down the side of her neck and across her shoulder, he then kissed his way back up to her mouth.
McKenna moaned. “Yes, don’t stop with a kiss.”
“Touch me,” he said, drawing her hand down his torso to the stiff bulge behind the fly of his slacks.
She slid her hand inside and wrapped her fingers around his hot and heavy length. “Maybe I’m just in the mood for you.” She scooted down his body, lowering the metal zipper of his slacks. “Maybe I’ve thought about your cock today.” Kneeling on the floor, she leaned over him and peeled open the fabric. “Take your pants off, Detective. And give me what I want.”
He chuckled, lifted his hips and pushed his trousers down. She tugged them to his ankles and he kicked them off. “It’s yours.” He wrapped his fist around the base and stroked the length.
McKenna took his smooth velvet flesh into her mouth.
“Awe, fuck, Mickey.”
* * * * *
Saturday came quickly. The house had undergone a transformation. Dustin helped her turn what once reminded her of a museum, into a home. Fresh flowers were on the kitchen table and a big bowl of colorful fruit sat on the counter. McKenna brewed a cup of coffee and waited for Dustin to come home from work.
The phone rang. “Hello,” she answered.
“Good day to you, Ms. Porter. I understand congratulations are in order.”
Never would she forget the voice echoing on the other end of the line. “Mr. Marino.” Her blood ran cold.
His deep chuckle vibrated through the phone, into her soul, and coiled like a snake in her stomach. “No need to worry, my dear. I’m calling to offer my condolences on your father’s death. I heard it wasn’t at all pleasant for him.” There was a moment of silence.
“Elliot is dead?” The quickening of her heart wasn’t what she expected. She thought she’d be relieved. Tickling in the back of her mind was the fear Elliot would return. Tears filled her eyes. “Did you k
ill him?”
Robert laughed again. “I hear it was a most unfortunate accident. Good luck in your new life, McKenna. I’m sorry we had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances. You’re a brave woman. I find that quality very appealing.”
She found the notion disturbing. Robert Marino scared the hell out of her. He’d held her at gunpoint, and his brother Joe had threatened to kill her if she didn’t produce the money.
“Did you speak to him?” The line was silent. “What about the money?” If Elliot was dead, she’d never have answers.
“McKenna, nothing he said could redeem him.”
Emotion choked her throat. She agreed, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to flail her fists against his chest and damn him to hell for the miserable man he was.
Robert’s heavy breath echoed in her ear. “This ends our association.” The connection severed.
Trembling rocked her body. Her heart raced and eerie tingles made the hairs on her arms stand on end. She stared at the receiver unsure of what to do.
Dustin would know. Tension knotted her neck, and her vision blurred from the tears in her eyes. She dialed his cell phone.
“Elliot’s dead,” she blurted when he answered. “I just got a call from Robert Marino.”
“I’m almost home.”
And he was. A few minutes later, he stormed into the kitchen, tossing her mail on the table. She rushed into his arms. “I never expected to hear that voice again.” She pulled back and met his stare. “The only way Robert could know about the wedding is if he and his brothers were still watching me.”
“You don’t have to worry, Mickey. I’ll protect you.”
“I know.” She stepped back. “What if it isn’t over? Robert didn’t say anything about Roslyn.”
“I don’t know. I’m going to make a few phone calls and do a little browsing on the web. We have to find out what happened to Elliot and Roslyn.”
Web surfing was a good idea. There was just one problem. “Remember, the Marinos stole my computer.”
“Shit.” He took out his cell and dialed Tyson. “I need a favor.”
McKenna flipped through the stack of mail on the counter. A hand written letter was addressed to McKenna Pearce, she tore it open. She glanced at Dustin. He still spoke with Tyson.
Inside was a clipping from a Mexican newspaper. She didn’t read Spanish, but she didn’t have to. She was looking at an article with a picture showing a man being pulled from a watery grave. The car had obviously gone off the rocky cliff in the background of the photo.
“Dustin.” Her hand shook as she handed him the paper.
“I’m not about to get on the bad side of Robert Marino,” he said to Tyson on the phone. “Hold on.” He gave his attention to McKenna. “What is it?” He took the newspaper article. “Shit.” He studied the picture. “Tyson, Mickey received a newspaper clipping. We need to get it to the FBI.”
A few minutes later, he hung up the phone. He paced across the kitchen floor. “It’s over. Tyson will come for the letter.” He glanced at the newspaper again. “Clearly Elliot’s dead.”
“What if he staged his death again?”
“This is the work of Robert Marino.” He braced his arms on opposite walls at the threshold of the hallway.
“And what about Roslyn?”
“As long as she’s somewhere out there, our leads to your past aren’t dead. We won’t stop looking.”
She smiled. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Panic clamped around her neck. “They married. Wouldn’t all of his life insurance, the house, and all his assets become hers?”
“She wouldn’t be allowed to profit from her crimes. We’d need to talk to Albert, but this nightmare is over.”
McKenna approached and slipped her arms around his neck. “After all we’ve been though, I’m just glad it’s over.”
He brushed her bangs from her eyes. “This is where we live happily ever after.”
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