Last Kiss

by Laurelin Paige

  I just can’t be around to see it happen.

  “What you really mean was you couldn’t stand to see me win!” Again, I yelled to the room. “Were you really that sore a loser? That you’d rather kill yourself than deal with trying to put your life back together?” Instead she’d left me to put my life back together. Left me to pick up the pieces and grieve and be the one who lost.

  Rage propelled me up, and I stood so quickly my chair knocked over. “God, you were such a selfish bitch.” The tears returned, partly because I was that mad and partly because I’d still loved her, no matter how egocentric and mean she’d been. “Selfish and conniving. You knew that killing yourself would ruin anything I had with Reeve. You might have done this for me, but it wasn’t to give me a gift. You wanted to make sure I didn’t have him either.”

  I swiped at my cheeks, pissed at my tears, pissed that I couldn’t say all of this to her face. Pissed that she got the last fucking word.

  “You know what? No.” I paced the room with furious strides as I spoke. “You don’t get the last word. I do. You can’t let me go. You’re dead, and you can’t do anything to me anymore. But I’m still here, and I can let you go.” I laughed, an acidic choked laugh that might have been just a variation of a sob. “Did you hear that? I let you go. You don’t get to have a hold on me anymore. I let you go!”

  My last words echoed off the walls and the Spanish tile floor, resounding through the room as clearly and effectively as if I were in the recording studio and someone had turned up the echo on the soundboard.

  Appropriate, I thought. It was a statement I was sure would reverberate for a long time, not only in my dining room, but also in my life.

  I felt good. Really good.

  For about five minutes.

  Then I started to shiver. I leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. Then I wrapped my arms around myself and cried – really cried. Sad tears, angry tears, but mostly just cleansing tears. I sobbed until my face was wet and my eyes swollen and my head pounding. I cried until I was dry, until I was empty, until she was completely gone from inside and all that was left there was me.

  I dozed there on the dining room floor. When I woke up, it was dark outside, and my arm ached from how I’d been laying on it.

  I stood up and stretched then headed to the kitchen for a drink. At the sink, I filled a glass with water then leaned against the cabinet while I took a long swallow and picked up my cell phone from where it was charging on the counter and checked the time. Half past nine. And I had one missed text from Joe.

  What if she wanted Reeve to THINK V gave her the tat?

  I chuckled. He couldn’t really give up an investigation. He’d probably always have it in the back of his mind, just like I would. Just like I’d always have Amber in the back of my mind.

  And then I was thinking about his text. Why would she want anyone to think she was indebted to Vilanakis as his servant? Especially when she wanted Reeve back. What would she have to gain from that?

  Nice try, Joe.

  I set my water and phone down and started to the living room. Halfway there, I stopped. If he thought she was in danger, Reeve would want to protect her.

  It was actually an excellent way to try to win him back. To be vulnerable, like he liked.

  But it was silly to think she would be that manipulative.

  Except… was it? She’d manipulated me. More than once. And I’d seen her exploit many men over the years. “Forget who you are… be who he wants.”

  So, what if Joe was on to something?

  I sank onto the sofa, playing a possible scenario out in my head. Amber had run to Vilanakis willingly, but when she’d realized that punishing Reeve came at a price and decided she wanted him back, maybe the only way to minimize the extent of her betrayal was to become a victim. Get the tattoo. Pretend she was in more danger than she was. She could have been the one to send the other e-mails to Reeve, the ones in English. Could have posed as Michelis and sent the Jane Doe autopsy to see what Reeve would do if he thought she was dead. See if he still cared. She’d had to know that Petros would tell him the truth eventually. Maybe she hoped he’d come after her then.

  But he didn’t come. Instead, Joe did. And she’d insisted he take her to Reeve.

  Then, if Vilanakis hadn’t been the one to tattoo her, if he hadn’t considered her a belonging, he would likely not have come after her. He’d never had a history of going after his ex-girlfriends before. It would explain why he’d eventually told Reeve that he wasn’t responsible for terrorizing her, which could also still be a lie. But wasn’t he the type to take credit for his bad deeds? Denying it would have defeated the point.

  But the dog. And the fish.

  Well. She could easily have cut the line to the fountain. Maybe she’d even seen Reeve follow me down to the cliff. She would have wanted to draw back his attention and another “incident” would do the trick. That’s why Joe couldn’t find anyone else to blame.

  Except she was with me when the dog likely got poisoned.

  But Buddy wasn’t. Amber had been so sure that he hadn’t been working for Vilanakis, but she hadn’t said anything about him not killing the dog. She could have convinced him to do it – given him a hand job in exchange or maybe even just batted her pretty eyes. There had been paint cans in the attic. Surely there had been poison for pests around the ranch as well. She could easily have supplied Buddy with the items he’d needed. And the message “She’s Mine” led Reeve to believe it was from Michelis and that he’d keep coming after her. It ensured that Reeve continued to keep her close.

  It had happened the morning after Reeve had told her things had changed. So maybe she did really understand, and the whole “he said he still loves me” was just a show for me. To make me step aside. And I did, like she knew I would.

  My heart was racing now; my palms, sweaty. Everything was fitting together so perfectly.

  She’d probably leaked the press release about Chris Blakely and me too. There’d been computers at the ranch. And a laptop in Amber’s room. Reeve’s laptop. She could have easily found the picture of Chris Blakely and me in his e-mails. She would have guessed Reeve had been pissed when he saw them, could have used the same pictures and released them on social media to remind him how pissed he’d been. She probably hoped it would cause a fight between us. I had actually been surprised when it hadn’t.

  I sat forward and rubbed my hands together. Was I really considering this? Was it really possible that Amber had staged… everything?

  The scratches on her arms – Not Yours… That couldn’t possibly have been Vilanakis who made the marks if he hadn’t been the one to kill her. So, at the very least, she’d done that herself.

  And the rest was possible. Maybe not probable, likely never provable, but it made sense somewhere deep inside, in the parts of me that had known her so well they didn’t require proof or reason. They just knew.

  I should have been mad.

  I was mad, but I should have been so mad I couldn’t feel anything else, but I wasn’t. Because it was also actually kind of funny. Desperate, for sure. And more than a little bit impressive.

  I flung myself backward into the cushions. “Amber, you little devil,” I said, with a hint of a smile. “So conniving. You really did want all the power, didn’t you?”

  I wondered if she ever realized she hadn’t been quite as powerful as she’d thought she’d been. Or that she might have had so much more if she hadn’t abused the power she did have. Seemed like that might have been a lesson she should have learned from Vilanakis.

  Vilanakis!

  I sat up abruptly. Reeve was going after Vilanakis because he thought he’d killed Amber. Reeve already had the odds against him, but when his motive was based in a lie, he had even less of a chance of coming out of the feud alive.

  Cursing, I jumped from the couch to go grab my cell. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I had to try and stop him. And where the fuck was my phone?

  The
kitchen. Right.

  I ran for it, chiding myself the whole way for not trying to stop him when I’d had the chance. I’d never wanted for him to get himself killed. I’d never wanted him to start a war. And I hadn’t told him… why?

  I couldn’t think of the reasons now. All my emotions had been hazy then, like a thick fog had kept them shrouded and elusive. Now that I’d let her go, Amber wasn’t clouding my feelings. Everything was so much clearer. And I needed Reeve to be safe. I needed him in my life.

  With phone in hand, I chose his name from my contacts and paced circles around my bedroom while I waited for it to ring.

  It only rang once before going to voice mail.

  “Fu-uck,” I said, drawing out the word as I hung up and redialed. Again, voice mail.

  His house. I should call his house. Except I’d never had his house number, and there was no way it was listed. I’d have to go to his house instead. Even if he wasn’t there, his men would know how to reach him.

  Swearing up a storm, I slipped on some shoes, and ran to the kitchen to grab my car keys from the hook by the fridge. I had no idea where my purse was so I decided to leave it, anxious to get to him as soon as possible.

  In the hopes that he’d answer eventually, I redialed his number as I opened the door.

  And then I froze.

  Because there he was, standing right in front of me, his hair messy like he’d run his hand through it a thousand times and his eyes wide and warm the minute they locked with mine.

  I dropped my hand from my ear, my mouth gaping.

  “Hi,” he said cautiously.

  His voice shocked me into action. “I was just calling you,” I said, clicking End on my cell.

  With his forehead creased, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “Oh. It’s on airplane mode,” he said, pocketing it again. “Why were you calling me anyway?” Though wary, he was so obviously hopeful.

  I was focused on his lips, the way they curved up with the slightest hint of a smile when he spoke. The way they were just barely parted, as if preparing for a kiss.

  “Emily?”

  I blinked, instinctively wetting my own lips. “Oh. To tell you not to go to Chicago.” But now I didn’t have to because he was here, in my threshold, looking sexy and smoldering with the most absolute perfectly kissable lips.

  And then he said, “I already did.”

  “You already went to Chicago?” It was hard to talk with my heart in my throat.

  “I just got back.”

  Did that mean…?

  My vision got dim around the edges, and I had to put my hand on the doorframe to keep me standing. It had been four days since I’d seen him. It had been enough time for him to… to do a lot of things.

  “Emily.” Gently, he gripped my arm, trying to help support me. “What’s wrong?”

  “It wasn’t him. Your uncle didn’t kill her.”

  He bent down to meet my eyes. “Do you know something? Or are you saying it’s me again?”

  “Not you.” I took a deep breath to clear the cloud of dread. “Amber left a message. You should hear it. Come in. Please.”

  Reluctantly he let go of me so he could walk through the door. When it shut, he locked the deadbolt behind him, and, if I weren’t so worried about what might have happened with Vilanakis, I might have chuckled at the gesture. Once upon a time, that sort of behavior from him would have frightened the hell out of me.

  Now, I knew he was simply concerned about keeping me safe.

  “She left a message?”

  “Uh, yeah. This way.” I indicated for him to follow me to the dining room, and as we walked the handful of yards to get there, I chided myself again for not stopping him sooner and fretted over the awkward tension between us and also reveled in his presence, how just being near him made me feel all jumbled and dizzy and agitated.

  I stopped short at the entrance of the dining room, not remembering that I’d thrown the answering machine to the floor until I saw it now on the floor. “Just one sec,” I said apologetically as I leaned down to pick up the device, praying that I hadn’t broken it during my tantrum.

  I set it on the table, and with shaky hands, cued up the saved messages and skipped to the second one. It started playing – thankfully – and bit my lip, not wanting to hear her message again but wanting to be there for Reeve when he did.

  I watched him as he listened, following every shift in his expression. I could tell when he realized she’d heard us by the slight twitch of his eye. And when the color left his face, I could tell he’d figured out what she’d done.

  Before she’d finished, he sank into a chair. Then, when it was over, he sat motionless, processing.

  “My God,” he said softly after what seemed like forever. “I had no idea. That she would do that. Did you?”

  “She’d mentioned that she wanted to end things once before.” I didn’t add that it had been when he’d kept her on the ranch. He didn’t need that extra guilt. “That had been in the past, though. I had no idea she still felt that way.”

  “We couldn’t have known,” he said emphatically, as if he feared I would blame myself.

  “No. We couldn’t have known.” I leaned against one side of the arch that served as the entrance to the room, hating that the distance between us was a barrier when there were already so many other less tangible barriers between us as well. I wanted to hold him. Shouldn’t I be holding him? Shouldn’t we be consoling each other and comforting each other and loving each other at a time like this? Shouldn’t we be doing that all the time?

  I supposed that’s what he’d been trying to do all along. And I’d pushed him away.

  Damn, did the truth ache.

  Reeve glanced at the answering machine. “Was that message the reason this was on the floor?”

  I blushed. “Yeah. It, uh, made me mad.” I furrowed my brows trying to figure out how to explain how I’d felt and what I’d realized in the last thirty minutes of my life. I knew that getting the words right wasn’t as important as just getting them out. “It made me mad because it was so damn manipulative.”

  His head lifted slightly. “Oh?”

  “It was all manipulative. Everything she did. I see that now. She controlled me, and I let her.” I avoided his eyes and scratched absentmindedly at my collarbone. “You were right. All the things you said about us – about me – they were right.”

  “I shouldn’t have —”

  “No, you should have,” I said, interrupting him. “I appreciate that you said it. I mean, I didn’t at the time, but I do now. I’m sorry I didn’t get it earlier.” I braved a glance up at him, and when my eyes met his, so full and earnest, I thought I’d melt.

  But Michelis. “So Chicago! What happened?” I barely dared to ask.

  “Chicago.” He stood, drawing out the word as he walked toward me, and for a minute I forgot I was waiting for him to talk and instead hoped he was coming to me, finally. Hoping he would finally put his arms around me.

  I swore, if he did, this time I’d never let him let me go.

  But he passed by me, ending up at the opposite wall of the arch. He leaned against it, mirroring my stance. “I just got back, actually.”

  “You said that. Did you…?” It worried me that he hadn’t just come out and said what happened already. “Is it bad?” I wrung my hands, waiting.

  “Emily,” he said softly. “I didn’t hurt him.”

  Relief filled my chest so fully I was surprised my bra still fit comfortably.

  “I couldn’t,” he continued. “I know you want me to be that kind of man. The kind who could kill someone, and I could. But not him. Not for this. I thought I could. But then I was there and I realized…”

  I was still and composed on the outside, but inside, my heart was running a million miles a minute and my belly was twisting, coiling with anticipation. “Realized what?”

  He pinned his eyes to mine. “She wasn’t you.”

  “What?”

/>   “Amber wasn’t you. I could kill someone if they took my whole life away. But he didn’t. Because he didn’t take away you.”

  The only reason I wasn’t already running to him was because I was too stunned and overwhelmed with emotion.

  “I came here to get you back, Emily. I came here to get what’s mine.”

  Then I was running to him, because I couldn’t go another second without touching him, without kissing him. His arms wrapped around me and our lips locked and he tasted faintly like bourbon and mints and salt because, it seemed, I was crying and my tears had mixed into our kisses.

  When I could bear to release his mouth – or, rather, when I had to come up for air – I cupped my hand against his cheek and said, “That’s not the kind of man I want you to be. I know it seems I like I might. But you’re dark and dangerous enough for me just as you are.”

  He searched my face, as if trying to decide if I were telling the truth.

  “And I’m so glad you came back here for me, but even if you hadn’t, I was coming to look for you. Not just to stop you from going after your uncle, but also to tell you I want you. I want the things you give me. I want to be yours.”

  It was the first time I’d ever remembered making such an important decision for myself. It felt good. Really good.

  “Oh, Blue Eyes,” he sighed, and I pressed tighter against him and into him, wanting to be as close as possible, to be inside him, for him to be inside me.

  Abruptly, he spun us so that I was the one with my back against the wall and he was the one pushing into me. He caught my wrists in his grip and pinned them above my head. My breasts perked up in this position, and his gaze flicked down to them, searing through the flimsy material of my tank top, arousing me as though I were already naked and he was already sucking my nipples into his mouth.

  “What now?” I asked hoarsely, and I meant how are you going to make love to me now, but I also meant I’m yours – now teach me how to belong to you.

  “Well.” His expression darkened. “Now I’m going to fuck you against the wall.”