Imperfect Forgery: (A Dark Romantic Suspense)

by G. D. Madsen

  Greg makes a puffing sound. "Demanding as usual." Nonetheless, he elevates the bed and readjusts the pillows.

  "What happened, Greg?" Time to get serious.

  "Where would you like me to begin?" A shadow darkens his face. "I shouldn't have left you there alone."

  "What? I was more than capable of keeping those bastards busy."

  He bursts out laughing. "Yeah, it turned out just fine for you, didn't it?"

  "Who could have predicted Beltrani's return? Damn, the choking panic seeing Kahina with him... I could only compare it to the moment my mother took her last breath. I lost any ability to think when he was trailing the dagger down her body. If she hadn't drugged the whiskey... But he was still conscious enough to shoot me and come at her. Fuck, this is the last thing I remember..."

  "To tell the truth, your Kahina is a warrior. Apparently, the dose of sedatives was not large enough to take down a man of Beltrani's stature, but nonetheless, she fought him, managed to get a hold of his gun, and shot the bastard twice, but it was Mauro who delivered the final shot."

  "Mauro killed his father?" My question comes out as a surprised whisper.

  "As soon as we reached the pond and I got into a boat with Lea, Mauro ran back toward the mansion. Later we found out he also took down two guys who were after us."

  Given a chance, I would smash Mauro's face for what he did to Kahina, but damn, it seems he ultimately saved all our lives. "How's Lea holding up?"

  Greg sighs. "She went home to Colorado yesterday, to spend a couple of days in her parents' winter cabin, or maybe longer. I'm not sure how she will recover from what this psycho did. I mean, physically, she will heal, but emotionally... I wish I were there with her, but she's been avoiding me ever since she stepped inside the ambulance."

  "Then why are you still here? You want to be with her, so go there. If she chooses to push you away, let her at least know you are nearby if she needs you. Rent a cabin, a motel, a hotel, sleep on the street – anything but those babysitting duties. She shouldn't go through this alone. I saw the way you looked at her and the way she held on to you. Go, and buy the first ticket to Colorado, or better yet, get inside your car and drive."

  "Sure, so your girlfriend can bite my head off?" Greg smiles again.

  My girlfriend… I sure like the sound of it. Especially the part of mine…

  "Leave her to me," I chuckle, trying to sound funny, but my comment still comes out way too lusty.

  "You are not seriously thinking about this, are you?" Greg folds his arms over his chest. "Should I ask a nurse to sedate you again, Casanova?"

  "I'd kill you if you tried. I need to see her. I am ready to climb walls if I have to spend another minute in your company instead of hers, but her mother waited longer for this reunion. Which leads me back to my request – leave now. Go be with Lea before you too start climbing walls."

  Greg laughs, but something in his eyes tells me, he is considering it. The silence in the room grows loud from his overthinking. "You're right. She might push me away, but at least I need to try."

  We shake hands, and my friend turns to leave. This is when I remember something else. "Greg," I call him just as he opens the door. "What happened to Evelyn?" I ask, though silently wishing to hear Bryan snapped her neck, after all.

  "The FBI got her. She seems to be working on some deal to have her possible sentence reduced by giving the names of Beltrani's puppets. Oh, and Catherine vanished, leaving her confession behind." Greg salutes me and closes the door behind him.

  I wish this surprised me. Evelyn was always cunning when it came to getting the best deal for herself. I'm just wondering how far those puppets are willing to go to silence her now that the master puppeteer is gone.

  As for Catherine, she probably fled to wherever she and Silverstone were planning to go. In a way, spending the rest of her life as a fugitive, while the man she hoped to run away with is now a pile of ashes, must be the fitting sentence for her crimes.

  I close my eyes for a moment and start sinking into oblivion. No. I am not going to sleep until I hold Kahina in my arms. I should take a cold shower to push away the drowsiness.

  My chest is on fire, but a few bullet wounds are nothing. I have no intentions to lie like a martyr because of those ridiculous holes in my body, not when the woman I love survived injuries far worse.

  I rid myself of the stupid hospital dress after struggling with it for what felt like forever, and step into the shower cabin, placing my palms on the wall and leaning down to prevent water from soaking the bandages.

  Splashes of water transform me into a shivering mass. The blood loss affected my body more than I thought. I add some heat to the stream and groan as warmth sieves through my pores.

  The sensation is so damn overwhelming that I don't even hear the shower door open.

  Only a mild breeze on my back announces somebody else's presence.

  "You almost gave me a heart attack," a whisper brings out the most arousing goosebumps. Soft hands slide around my hips and my every cell bursts into flames. "You should be in bed."

  "Only if you're in it."

  She giggles, bending down and wedging herself in between my arms.

  Any sensation of pain evaporates as my eyes consume Kahina's nakedness, her chest moving fast, her pupils wide. She is fighting a panic attack, and yet she is here with me. I reach out to close the water, but she catches my wrist.

  "Let it run. I am not afraid anymore." She smiles. "No, I'm lying, I am terrified, but I think it would help if you kissed me."

  My grin plausibly makes me look like a fool, but I could not care less. I caress her bruised cheek, careful not to touch the cut, and slide my hand to the back of her head. Kahina closes her eyes, her lips parted and expecting mine. I brush the tip of my tongue, tickling those soft lips. "How I've missed this..."

  My lucky bastard's heart rams like crazy inside my ribcage, and my entire body reverberates, responding to her melodious hum, the moment our lips merge.

  The first kiss of our new life.

  Together.

  Kahina's hands find their way to my hips and pull me closer, and a groan flies out of my mouth as burning pain shoots up my ribcage.

  "Shit," she whispers, breaking the kiss, and immediately turns the water off. "I'm sorry. Your injuries… Back to bed! Now!"

  Kahina gently pushes me out of the shower, and, ignoring my protests, helps me dry myself.

  I still refuse to put the stupid gown back on and head toward the bed while she dresses up.

  My pace is slow enough for her to catch up with me and help me lie down. Kahina snuggles beside me, careful not to put any weight on me.

  "Can we, please, stop doing this?" she murmurs into my ear.

  A chill locks my spine, despite her warm body next to mine. "What?"

  "Not the kissing part." She giggles, apparently sensing my shiver. "But can we quit hospitals for good?"

  I laugh, and whine immediately, like a damn baby. "I'm all for it." I turn my face to look at her. "I don't want to see any more bruises on your soft skin."

  "And no more bullet scars," she says, circling her fingertips around the damp bandage on my chest. She glances at me, biting her lips to subdue a smile, which is less than possible because her eyes are betraying her mischievous mood. Her fingers slide under the blanket and to the bandage on the left side of my abdomen, but they do not linger there for long. "You have no idea how much I miss the animal who pinned me down on the floor." Her low voice resembles the purr of a lioness.

  Kahina wraps her hand around my cock, and I growl, capturing her mouth, like the chosen mate to this lioness. She kisses me back with an equally feral assertion. The air turns thick with lust and madness until Kahina rams her palm into my shoulder.

  "Wait," she pants. "Your wounds."

  "I don't care," I reply, my voice betraying the state of need I am in. "If I die, I'll die a happy man."

  She giggles, pressing her index finger to my lips to stop me
from setting upon hers again. "How about nobody dies."

  There it is – that mischievous smile again. "How about you stay alive and happy?" She looks at me, her amber eyes almost dark brown, and I lose my gift of speech. She is like a vision.

  My vision.

  "You are going to be the end of me," I murmur, caressing her wet curls.

  She lifts one eyebrow. "I thought I already was."

  "You are. I love you, Kahina!"

  "And I love you." She licks her smiling lips. "But now, darling, as much as I enjoy listening to your voice, I do want you to shut up and close your eyes."

  Chapter 30

  Kahina

  One month later

  "I wanted to thank you once again for saving my Judy and bringing her back to me," I hear my mum say to David before I step onto the balcony.

  David is leaning against the rail, dressed in blue jeans and a flowery button up shirt, the top three buttons open, giving a glimpse of his tanned chest. The sight makes me want to rip the rest of those buttons open and trace the outline of his lean muscles with my lips.

  Nonetheless, that would be awkward with my mom and Steve sitting on a white patio couch in front of him.

  "Well, Samantha, if not for your decision to have her fingerprints taken at school, I would have never come up with a match," David smiles at my mother, and that smile grows when he spots me.

  Mom and Steve exchange glances and silent giggles when I wind my arm around David's waist, and he rests his arm on my shoulder.

  I only met Steve a month ago at the hospital, but the tall blond man with kind blue eyes immediately embraced me. No wonder, after all, I was his first case, and he believed my mother when she swore my father would not have kidnapped me. Unfortunately, nobody else did.

  "Well, we ought to be going if we want to be in time for our dinner reservation," Steve winks at my mom.

  "Oh, yes, of course," she jumps to her feet excessively fast.

  What have I missed?

  "Thank you, David, for calling your uncle on our behalf. I cannot wait to taste his food. We will stop by tomorrow to say bye before heading back to New York." She brushes her dark short curls off her eyes and kisses both my cheeks.

  "I'll walk you out," David offers after Steve gives me a hug, and they leave me alone in the balcony.

  The strange feeling only intensifies, but the second David returns, unbuttoning his shirt as if he had read my earlier thoughts, I forget every question I wanted to ask.

  "Alone at last," he murmurs, his lips on mine, the shirt already on the floor. He lifts me up and carries me to the double sunbed he bought so we could sleep under the stars, although sleeping was the least of what we had been doing on it.

  I have no idea how I rid myself of my flowery top or my jeans shorts, or how David gets rid of the rest of his clothing.

  "Not even my uncle's cooking can compare to the taste of you, Kahina," he whispers, hooking his fingers under my thong and pulling it all the way down.

  My legs part, welcoming him in, and I moan when his lips begin their teasingly slow journey up my body, kissing every inch of it, and lingering on the most sensitive parts, yet not long enough for me to find release.

  "David…" His name is a pure plea on my lips. "I can't take it anymore, please…"

  David releases my hard nipple from the captivity of his mouth and holds himself on his elbows above me. "Please what, Kahina?" he asks, voice hoarse and low. "What does my queen desire?"

  "You," I whisper, getting lost inside his eyes, clouded with lust. "I want you… I want you to stop the world like only you know how."

  Our lips melt into one entity, absorbing the mutual groan as he fills me with one resolute thrust. And stills. "Under one condition."

  "What?" My legs wrap around his waist like tentacles to keep him in place. "Are you kidding me now?"

  David manages to pull himself up enough to look at me and grin. "Just answer one simple question, and I will fulfill your every wish." He begins to move again. Slowly… Too slow…

  "Ask, damn it!" I grip the back of his neck, moving my hips to meet his, desperate for release.

  "Marry me."

  Now I stall. "Wh…What?"

  "I got your mother's blessing today, but it would be incomplete without asking the main participant, don't you think?"

  "So, this is what the glances and rush to leave were about?" I blurt out.

  "Kahina!" David thrusts deep and hard this time. "Will you…" Another thrust and I gasp when it hits something sensitive inside. "…marry me?"

  "Yes!" I cry out, and he picks up the pace again. "Yes. A thousand times, yes. I will!" I probably shout the last words so loud everybody on the beach can hear it, but I don't care.

  The world seizes to exist!

  Epilogue

  David

  Despite the chilly December night, the gallery is packed with people eager to discover the new art sensation – my beautiful wife. Every single art critic seemed astonished that a woman her age could channel such raw and heart-wrenching emotions on canvas.

  If only they knew.

  But they don't. She didn't want the world to know her as the girl from the picture on the milk carton. She might forever remain Lavinia in the minds of those who witnessed and ignored her suffering, but for the rest of the world, she is an aspiring artist Judith Aghilas.

  But Kahina is the only name on my lips in the privacy of our bedroom. Sometimes it is a soft whisper, sometimes it is a breathless growl, sometimes a wild roar. I will never seize calling her my queen, just as I will never tire of listening to her delicate cries of pleasure.

  There is still the part of pain at times. I see it in her eyes – a silent request, something that bastard left imprinted in her brain forever. 'I trust you,' she whispers, and I obey. This is my last battle – to connect this need with me, not him anymore.

  I pass the portrait of a Tuareg man, an indigo veil hiding most of his face. This painting is one of the few that doesn't radiate sadness. I have no idea how she does it, but as I look into those eyes, I recognize the anticipation, lust, and tenderness. I am not sure if this was how I looked that day. However, this is precisely what I felt the moment I laid eyes on the most beautiful bride as she stepped out of my grandmother's tent, wearing the same headdress my mother wore on her special day, just like her mother before her.

  I get hard just thinking about our first night as husband and wife in the middle of the Saharan desert. Luckily for me, this time I don’t need to wait forever to steal a private moment with her.

  Time to find my queen.

  ∞∞∞

  Kahina

  I stare at the picture in front of me, regret for choosing to put it up tightening my stomach. It is too private. It is still bleeding through the layers of paint.

  Somebody told me earlier they wanted to 'snatch her out of that painting to protect her from the shadows.'

  Too late.

  Nobody snatched that innocent girl; nobody bothered to help the teenager, raped and tortured daily; nobody cared about helping the broken and drowning young woman.

  No, they chose to tremble in their rooms, behind closed windows and limo glass, behind fake laughs and champagne flutes.

  Featureless faces stare at me from the canvas, white holes instead of eyes, as they stand in each window of the dark alley.

  A crowd of people partying, all smiles and laughter, each and every one of them falsely oblivious to the man lying in the pool of blood by their feet, fill the background.

  They are not interested in a seven-year-old girl standing up front in a blue coat, her messy hair trying to crawl out from under the hat with a fluffy ball on top. They cower away from the shadow dominating the street.

  It is reaching for the girl.

  She is sticking her tongue out, but she is not smiling. Tears roll down her cheeks and turn to snowflakes, while those falling from the sky turn burgundy red on her tongue.

  Suddenly, all I can smell is blood an
d mold. The salty metallic taste travels down my throat, threatening to poison me, and I run out, desperate for some fresh air.

  A thin blanket of snow covers the streets of Manhattan. This is my first birthday back in New York, and it's snowing.

  I close my eyes and tilt my face up. Snowflakes melt on my cheeks and mingle with the tears I cry for the girl in a blue coat who died on a similar night one week short to being eighteen years ago.

  I wince when somebody touches me, the dark shadow still too present in my mind. Only when a familiar voice murmurs words that make me blush, I let go of the breath and lean against the chest of the man who finally cared.

  "What's wrong?" David asks, wrapping his arms around my waist.

  "It was a mistake," I say looking at the snow falling. "That painting... It is too raw, too personal, too everything..."

  "This is why it is so powerful." David turns me around and cups my face, wiping my tears away with his thumbs. "This is the hell you survived all alone. This is your finger pointing at every single person who closed their eyes. This is every child's finger, every suffering woman's finger, every desperate man's finger as well. No, Kahina, people have to see it so that when they return home, they relive every cry they ignored, every bruise they decided to overlook. And maybe, next time they will choose to care."

  "My mom never saw this painting. We haven't talked about that night. We never talked about any of my nights."

  "Then it is about time you do. Stop shielding people from the ugly truth. I know you wanted a new start, but, love, you have the power to tell your story. You have the power to comfort children like the girl in that blue coat. Do not abandon her. Give her the voice she never had. Give hope to those who still live in fear. Become their voice."

  I smile, watching the snow land on his dark eyelashes, turning them white. "David Aghilas, I love you more than there are snowflakes in the clouds." My hands envelop his, and we lock our fingers together.

  "And I love you, Judith Aghilas, more than all the stars combined," he hums against my lips.

  "Take me to that storage room." I'm almost embarrassed by how husky my voice sounds. Almost... "Now."