The man holding me rasps, “Stay still and I’ll let you go. Todd needs help or he isn’t going to get out of here alive.”
I immediately stay still, realizing the man holding me is the same one who tied me up so loosely. He’s most likely an FBI undercover agent.
A gunshot goes off from outside the room, then another. I don’t know where anyone is. I scoot across the room, far from the door; it wouldn’t do to be saved only to get shot in the rescue attempt.
Voices and shouting grow louder until the door is thrust open again. In comes Jeffery with his hands up by his ears, a large gun pointed at the back of his head. I hear my name called and I stand up, alerting the FBI and San Francisco police to where I am. I’m bruised, but I forget all about that when I see Todd crumpled on the floor.
Agents Barron and Woods arrive, and another FBI agent helps Todd stand. I trail after them, and Todd looks at me with his one good eye. “We did it, sweetheart.”
All my adrenaline leaves my body at once and I collapse to the floor, shaking from all the fear and terror that I’d held back in order to survive. I can’t help but cry big ugly tears of joy that this is over. “Yes, we did it. Together.”
Jim races over to me and helps me up. “Cynthia, you were amazing. You’re going to be fine. They have Jeffery. You’re safe.”
I can’t control the tears at that point, and I cry harder when the paramedics arrive and begin to nurse Todd’s wounds. He’s limp, and I fear the worst, but when I hear, “He has a strong pulse,” a wave of relief settles over me. They load him on a stretcher, and I stress between my tears, “He saved my life. I’m going with him.”
The paramedics agree, then move on to the men we injured.
At the hospital, we’re separated as Todd’s worse off than I am. Once I’m patched up, I demand to see him. The doctors explain the extent of our injuries, and I break down in tears, collapsing to the floor in the middle of the hallway. I’m badly bruised, but Todd has three broken ribs, he was stabbed in the stomach, though it didn’t hit any vital organs, and he has a punctured lung.
This is all my fault. I’m not going to leave his side. I won’t.
They put him on some pretty heavy sedatives so his body can start to heal. I have to admit, I’m frightened. I’ve spent my whole life looking for Todd, and now that I have him, I don’t know what I would do if I lost him. My fear is a kind of madness, but one that’s useful if you know how it works. Fear will take you by the hand to the things you keep and guard as precious. Always face fear with courage, understand it, and then let it go. Let those fears wake you up, show you the way to your true self, to the brave soul whose love shines like a star. For without fear, love is brighter, stronger, deeper. When you find yourself, you will be your own master, fully healed, and your last fear will be of your own strength.
With all those thoughts swirling in my head, waiting for him to wake up is a kind of helplessness I never want to feel again.
I sit in a chair pulled close to the bed and hold his hand, every fiber of my being willing him to wake. I talk to him nonstop, telling stories he already knows and sharing where I want to show him around the city, all while rubbing my thumb over the top of his hand, a small gesture of my love and support.
Chapter THIRTY-FOUR
Todd
The gentle sounds of the hospital equipment reach me first through the haze, then the light blazing against my eyelids. I open my eyes, blinking against the too-bright fluorescent lights. I’ve woken in a hospital bed before, though never after having gone rounds with some Russian goons.
A warm weight on my forearm prompts me to look down. Cynthia’s hair is splayed across my sterile white sheets, one of her hands around my arm, the other twisted at an ungodly angle so she could intertwine our fingers together.
The side of her cheek is barely visible through her hair, and her gray sweater envelops her shoulder. She looks so peaceful. Tiny. Fragile.
I swallow against the wave of nausea rushing through me at the thought of her lying in a bed like this. She’d break, and right now I couldn’t do anything about it.
What were we thinking going up against a man like Dimitri Kuznetsov?
I gently tug her hand from mine and her hair whips around her as she jumps away. “You’re awake!”
“Do you have any water?” I ask, my voice cracking.
She leans over her chair and comes back with a bottle. Before I can grasp it, she cracks the top, then hands it to me. I shift up to a better position, but a sharp pain shoots down my side, robbing me of breath. She cups my hand around the bottle, helping me take a few sips, then gently reclines me into the bed again.
“You need to be careful. You have three broken ribs on that side.”
“Is that all? It feels like someone took a sledgehammer to my lungs.” I try to steady my inhales and exhales, moderate the air as best as I can. Other aches and pains begin to filter in as I shake off sleep. My left wrist sports a serious bandage, and two fingers are splinted together with tape and wooden sticks.
I try to pull together what happened. I remember sneaking in and getting caught almost immediately. Cynthia hit a guy in the face with my driver.
I close my eyes against the pain and the haze. “Damn. What happened?”
She scoots her chair closer to the edge of my bed and grasps my hand. “You came to the apartment, and you rescued me.”
She won’t meet my eyes, instead staring intently at the bedding and our entwined fingers. I’ll allow it for now, but if she feels some sort of guilt about what happened to me, I don’t care if I break another rib. I’ll strip her of that notion—and whatever else I need to—to get it through her thick head.
Agents Woods and Baron show up as if on cue.
“We were hoping you might be awake. We do need to take some statements,” Agent Baron says.
“I’ll call Marci,” Cynthia informs them.
“No need to do that, Miss Hathaway. You aren’t being charged with anything. You were both assaulted, and we need a statement to help us prosecute Jeffery Bratva.”
They carefully walk us through our statements, but I don’t remember much. “I’m sorry I’m not of much help.”
“Agent Sawyer told us what he observed, which will be helpful,” Agent Baron shares.
“Is he okay?” Cynthia inquires.
“You may have broken a few of his toes, but he’ll be fine.”
Cynthia covers her mouth in surprise. “I didn’t know. I figured it out when he barely tied me up, then told me he needed to help Todd during the knife fight.”
“His cover’s not quite blown, but it was coming to an end anyway. He’s been undercover for five years, and now we’ll be moving into the prosecution stage. He’s going to be busy testifying pretty soon.”
“How’s it going with Jeffery?” I ask.
“He’s not saying much. He’s been in a Russian gulag, so American prisons don’t intimidate him.”
“Does that mean Dimitri will be getting off the hook?”
“No, definitely not. The US attorney’s office has empaneled a grand jury. You both may have to testify,” Agent Baron tells us.
Cynthia nods. “Then what? Do I go into witness protection?”
“I don’t know. That depends on what happens. But for now, you both have twenty-four seven FBI guards outside the door. If you let the agents know when you’re ready to head home, Cynthia, they’ll call a team to escort you,” Agent Woods says tentatively.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she declares.
My parents arrive less than twenty-four hours after I awaken. My mother rushes in and hugs me like she’ll never let go. When she finally relaxes enough to see Cynthia standing at the side of the bed, she tells her, “I’m so glad to finally meet you. Todd told us all about you.”
A look of shock crosses her face at my mother’s revelation, and then she whispers, “This is all my fault.”
My dad steps in and assures her, “Todd has always had a
mind of his own. There was nothing you could do to stop him.”
Now both the women in my life are fussing over me. I’m not sure if this helplessness is a good thing or a bad thing.
I’m grateful to be released from the hospital after three weeks confined to a bed. Maybe now I can get a full night’s rest without beeping noises and constant interruptions.
My parents try to go home, but Cynthia insists they stay with me until I can do more on my own. It hurts to get out of bed just to go to the bathroom, so I appreciate the assistance.
The doctor wants me to remain home for at least another week. I feel like I’m three again with my mother jumping every time I need something; if I let her, I swear she would wipe my butt and dress me. It’s humiliating, but I also love that she cares so much.
Thomas and I speak regularly, so I know how he’s managing at work.
After two weeks of my mother fussing over us, I kindly insist that it’s time for her and dad to go home and back to their lives.
“Mom, you must have things to do back in Boca.”
“We do, but we don’t mind staying and helping.”
“I’m heading back to work in two days. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I have an FBI escort taking me to and from work, and you’ve filled our freezer with plenty of food to last us a year.”
My dad chuckles. “Ginny, I think what our son is trying to tell us is that it’s time to go home and let him have his life back with his pretty girlfriend.”
“Oh, right. Of course. When will you be coming to Florida to see us?”
I grin. “I’m thinking if we don’t go to Dallas for Christmas, we’ll be out then.”
She kisses me on the forehead. “I love that idea.”
We ask the FBI to get us a big car so the four of us can go to the airport together. As we wave goodbye outside security, I kiss Cynthia on the head. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long. Now that they’re gone, you’d better be ready.”
“You’re the one injured. We can take it at any pace you need.”
Heading back home, we let ourselves into the apartment and leave the agents outside the door.
I push her against the door, wincing at a twinge of pain but pushing through. This is happening. “Now, what were you saying about taking it at any pace I need?”
“You can lead the way.” She smiles, and the undercurrent is strong.
I don’t waste time lingering, pushing my tongue past her lips and devouring her mouth. The kiss is powerful, demanding, passionate—everything I’ve missed these last couple of weeks.
One hand explores her soft and delicious breast while the other one finds the back of her neck. I tilt her head back, exposing her throat so I can press my lips to it. She smells divine as I work my mouth and tongue from her collarbone to her right ear.
She shudders beneath my touch, and my feelings for her come rushing to the surface. These sensations running through me right now are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
I kiss her like my life depends on it, and she returns it with fervor. I haven’t had a make-out session since I was in high school, but I can’t help it with her. My cock is rock hard, and I know she can feel it pressing against her abdomen. She reaches for it but I move her hand away, too engrossed with our kiss to worry about anything else.
Holy God, the way this woman’s kissing me right now. There’s no other way to describe it—she’s making love to me with her mouth.
I reach down and untuck her shirt from her pants, my mouth still held captive by hers as I work the buttons. I push the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms, her breasts heaving. Cupping them, I lean down and kiss them both. She pulls my shirt off but pauses when she reveals the wrap around my chest. Tears begin to pool in her eyes.
“Please don’t stop,” I beg.
Our eyes meet, hungry with desire, bursting with passion.
“I love you so much,” I pant, then kiss her again.
She smiles against my lips. “I love you too.”
We untangle ourselves from our clothes, leaving every shred we have in a pile on the floor next to us.
I want to carry her to the couch, but I can’t risk tearing my stiches, so I guide her by the hand and sit her down, kneeling between her legs “My God, you’re beautiful, Cynthia,” I growl as I rake my gaze over every inch of her body.
She takes me in as well. “You’re beautiful too.”
I lean over and kiss her stomach, working my mouth down her body in slow ministrations. She moans and it dawns on me how much I’ve missed this. How much I need this. How much I want this in my life forever.
Making sweet love to her over and over takes all afternoon and evening.
And it all feels so right.
Chapter THIRTY-FIVE
Todd
I’m deep in thought, comparing multiple spreadsheets. Angus and I have run through this proposal dozens of times, and Thomas and his team have picked it apart and put it back together again. This is a significant change for my firm.
I sit back and stare at the spreadsheets, trying to come up with all the things that could go wrong. I can’t think of anything, leaving me comfortable with the prospectus from Banner Pharmaceuticals. I think they would be a great addition to our fund.
I smell her jasmine, ginger, and vanilla perfume before I see her; it isn’t strong, but at just the hint, I know she’s close. She greets my administrative assistant, Suzanne, and talks to her for a few moments. They’ve become friendly in such a short time. I’m always so impressed at how Cynthia’s so gracious and genuine with everyone she meets. Often my admin is dismissed by so many who come to meet me. How someone treats support staff is a true sign of character. And because of that, Suzanne will put Cynthia through any time she calls the mainline.
Cynthia’s been with the assistant US attorney today, being questioned by the grand jury. It took eight hours of questions yesterday, and looking at the clock, I see it’s been another four today.
“Hey,” I call out. “Get in here.”
Suzanne comes rushing in with a pad of paper and pen in hand. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m sorry, I thought I heard you talking to Cynthia.”
“I was, but I know you don’t talk to her that way—nor to me, typically, but I am the help, so I thought you were calling me.” She cracks a smile, so I know the girls are giving me a hard time.
“You two hens are out there plotting my demise already. I can tell.”
Cynthia walks up behind her. “That’s a great idea. Unfortunately, all we’d get is an office and a baseball collection. Not worth it.”
Suzanne steps out with a smile, closing the door behind her, and Cynthia steps in between me and the desk. Sitting on my spreadsheets, she crosses her feet at her ankles and juts her chest out.
Right now I find her so fucking hot. She may be wearing a basic black dress and expensive black stilettos, but I saw the thigh-high silk stockings and the La Perla lingerie she put on this morning.
I put my hands on her hips and growl, “One of my fantasies is to bend you over my desk and fuck you while watching all the people down below.”
She looks down at my crotch, where my cock is beginning to tent my pants. Pushing me back by placing her beautiful stiletto between my legs, she grazes my cock with her pointed toe. It aches to be played with. “I think that’s something we should do one of these days,” she purrs.
My hand wanders up her thighs, past the lace, to her warmest spot, rubbing at her prized possession. I want to take this further, but we both know flirting is all we can do in my office during the day. Too many opportunities for someone to walk in and interrupt.
She leans down and gives me a deep, wet, lingering kiss before she circles around my desk and sits in a chair. “Well, after twelve hours of interviewing me, I think the grand jury knows all that I know.”
“That’s good, right?”
“It is. I need to debrief with Marci this afternoon. She was sitting
down with Walker Clifton to figure out the next steps.”
“When will you lose your entourage of FBI agents?”
“That’s what I plan to find out. Don’t get me wrong, I like having the guys driving me and not needing to look or pay for parking in this crazy city, but no guys approach me anymore now that two huge guys with obvious concealed weapons are standing guard.”
“Maybe we should keep them around, then,” I tease.
She bites at the corner of her mouth. It’s incredibly sexy when she does that, but I know it’s a sign that she’s nervous.
“Agents Woods and Baron don’t feel like you’re in danger,” I remind her. “The inside man’s still inside, and the belief is that Dimitri’s days are numbered, so they aren’t thinking about you, too busy jockeying for position within their organization.”
“I know, but what if they’re wrong? What if I’m putting you in danger, or the people I work with, or my parents, or my brother and his family? My mom may drive me completely crazy, but that doesn’t mean I want her tortured and killed. My brother, well….”
I laugh because I know she and her brother are very close. “How about I join you when you meet with Marci? That way we can evaluate everything together.”
She looks up at me, and her big brown eyes melt my heart. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“Just remember, we can do anything as long as we do it together.” I stand and kiss her on her forehead. “How about I take you to lunch? What time are you meeting Marci?”
She looks at her watch. “In a little over two hours.”
“Great. We can meet her after going into the North Beach neighborhood and grabbing a meat-lovers pizza.”
“You do realize this dress doesn’t expand?”
“I’m fully aware, but I have every expectation of peeling you out of it and seeing all the debauchery we can get into after we meet with Marci.”
Obsession: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #5) A Billionaire Russian Mob Romance Page 22