Say Goodbye

by Karen Rose

  He hissed, his hands tunneling through her hair to lift her face to his gaze. “Do you believe me now?” he demanded.

  She squeezed his cock, loving the dark pleasure that flashed in his eyes. “I think so. Still not sure.” She was so sure. She licked her lower lip. “Maybe I should do some research.”

  Without waiting for him to reply, she took him in her mouth. His strangled cry was the sound she didn’t know she needed, and she wanted to hear it over and over again.

  “Wait,” he ground out, his fingers tightening in her hair. She froze, looking up his body to his face. His jaw was so tight that his cheek twitched. “Just wait.”

  Carefully she pulled away, not licking him even though she wanted to. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re still dressed. I want you naked and I don’t want to come until I’m inside you.”

  Liza shivered. “You want me naked?” She lifted her arms. “Then do it.”

  Her shirt was gone before she could blink, his mouth on hers as his fingers fumbled with the clasp on her bra. A second later it went sailing over his shoulder and he was pushing her down to the bed, her feet still on the floor. He gripped her wrists and pinned them over her head, his amazing body hovering just out of reach.

  “Tom,” she warned, writhing beneath him. “Don’t tease me.”

  He gave her wrists a gentle squeeze. “Hands stay here.” He let her go and lowered to his knees, parting her legs. He pulled off one of her boots and then the other, tossing them over his shoulders. They landed with dull thuds somewhere. She didn’t care where.

  Her body was on fire, her fingers flexing above her head, gripping handfuls of the bedspread.

  “I need to—” She gasped when he dragged her pants down her legs, taking her panties with them. The clothing went the way of her boots. The air was cool on her heated skin, shivers racing over her like electric waves. “Please, Tom. Please.”

  Then the strangled cry was hers. His big hands parted her thighs and then his mouth was on her and . . . “Oh my God,” she moaned. “Tom. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

  He didn’t speak, humming against her instead. His mouth, his tongue . . . God, the man’s tongue was criminal. She was instantly addicted.

  She was in heaven. She was flying. She was almost there.

  She stiffened, her body going taut as she arched, pressing her head back as the orgasm exploded and she heard herself cry out. He licked and sucked her through it, not stopping until she collapsed to her back, panting. “Ohmygod, ohmygod,” she chanted.

  He kissed his way up her body, lingering on the butterfly tattoo at her hip. And then he was kissing her and she could taste herself, which was way hotter than she’d thought it would be.

  He pulled back far enough to meet her eyes. She blinked, feeling dazed.

  “Do you believe me now?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He twisted, giving her a view of his flawless ass before turning back, a condom in his hand. “I’ll stop if you—”

  “I know, dammit,” she interrupted, making him smile. “Hurry.”

  But he didn’t hurry, taking his time as he slid the condom over his cock, which was bigger than it had been before. Longer and wider. She licked her lips, tasting herself once again.

  “No fair. I wanted to come with you.”

  His smile became a wicked grin. “Then you’ll come twice.”

  “I see what you did there,” she muttered, then gasped when his hands closed over her ribs, lifting her up the bed. Carefully, as if she were made of glass.

  His grin was gone, his expression serious and intense. This is it, she thought. What she’d wanted for so long. She reached for him, relieved when he settled his body over hers.

  Finally. “Please,” she whispered, pressing soft kisses to his mouth, his jaw, his chin.

  He didn’t make her wait, sliding into her in a single perfect stroke.

  She’d wondered if it would hurt, because he was not a small man. It did not.

  She’d wondered if it would feel awkward, once it finally happened. It did not.

  She’d wondered if she’d resent his Tory in that moment. She did not, because he was looking down at her with a mixture of wonder and gratitude that she hadn’t ever even dared to dream of.

  I love you. The words burned her tongue, but she held them back. Not yet. Not tonight. Soon. “Perfect,” she whispered instead. “Show me. Please.”

  And he did. And it was perfect. Every thrust, every cry, every touch. Every clench of his jaw as he tried to make it last.

  And then he hit a spot inside her that she’d never known was there, making her cry out in shocked pleasure.

  “There?” he asked, his voice so deep she could barely understand the single syllable.

  She couldn’t say anything, so she nodded and he thrust harder, faster, his glutes bunching under her palms as she clutched him closer.

  “Open your eyes,” he growled. “Look at me when I make you come.”

  She forced her eyes open, fixed her gaze on his, and let him see everything she was feeling. He groaned and thrust, holding himself deep, and she was frozen, teetering on the precipice.

  “This . . . is . . . real,” he panted, punctuating each word with a punch of his hips.

  Her eyes filled with tears, because she believed him. “I know.”

  “Now,” he demanded. Bracing himself on one elbow, he ran his palm over her belly, heading down until his thumb found her clitoris and he pressed hard.

  She came on an overwhelmed sob. He came with a quiet roar, head thrown back, the muscles of his neck straining until he shuddered. Shaking, he lowered himself to his forearms, still careful not to hurt her.

  He kissed the corners of her eyes. “Did I hurt you? I’m sor—”

  “No. You didn’t.” She drew a breath, trying to get hold of her emotions. “It’s . . . I wanted this for so long. And . . . here you are.”

  His lips curved. “Here you are. With me. Exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

  She cupped his cheek, her hand trembling. “We’re really going to do this.”

  “We are.” He kissed her temple. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

  And then he was gone, taking his warmth with him. Liza thought she should climb under the covers, but she couldn’t move. She felt boneless and utterly relaxed.

  Finally. It was real. The happiness was real.

  ROCKLIN, CALIFORNIA

  SUNDAY, MAY 28, 9:30 P.M.

  Tom got rid of the condom and braced his hands on the vanity, staring at his reflection. The man who stared back was familiar, but not. It was the eyes, Tom decided. His were calm.

  He was . . . happy. Deep down, no faking it.

  And he owed it to the woman in his bed who’d bared her soul, telling him her secrets—how long she’d wanted him. How she’d tried to forget about him. How she’d loved and lost.

  He owed her the same honesty.

  He turned off the bathroom light and hurried back to her, finding her in the same place he’d left her. He picked her up and tucked her in, earning him a dreamy sigh. “Love the way you can pick me up,” she murmured.

  And if that weren’t a stroke to his ego.

  He climbed in beside her, relaxing when she cuddled in close. She rested her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. “Thank you.”

  “I feel like I should be saying that to you.” He stroked her hair and she petted the hair on his chest. This was a perfect moment. Too nice to spoil.

  Nope. Don’t even think it. He needed to tell her a few things. He should have told her before. He didn’t think what he had to say would make a difference, not to his Liza, but he should have given her a choice.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  She stiffe
ned, her breath hitching. “What?” she asked, the single word filled with a dread that hurt his heart. She thought he was going to say that he’d made a mistake.

  “Nothing like that,” he promised quickly. “This was everything I thought it would be. Better. Miles better. The only mistake I made was not getting over myself sooner.”

  “Okay.” She relaxed a little. “What is it, then?”

  “I did . . . something. Something not exactly . . .” He grimaced. “Not exactly right.”

  She lifted her head to meet his gaze, no judgment in hers. “Tory.”

  He nodded. “I found her killer. Online.”

  She tilted her head. “Did you kill him? Because I’d be okay with that.”

  He blinked up at her. “No, I didn’t. Not exactly, anyway.”

  “Well, then, whatever you did do is all right.”

  He smiled. “I should have known you’d say that.”

  “You really should have,” she said, mildly chastising. “Talk to me, Tom.”

  “I found him, in a chat room. He . . . bragged about killing women. And then he bragged about posing as a minister to give comfort to their families.”

  Her jaw clenched. “Sonofabitch. What did you do? I’m sure it wasn’t nearly bad enough.”

  “I tracked him to Tory’s parents’ town. He was planning to ‘comfort’ them. I couldn’t let him do that.” He studied her face, watched her eyes flash with fury and sadness. And fierce acceptance. Yes, he should have known she’d understand. “I’d been in contact with the family of one of the other victims. I thought they’d want to see him arrested. For closure. I told them where he’d be. I thought they’d wait for the police.”

  “But they killed him before the cops got there.”

  “Yes. I wanted to kill him myself. I was so angry.”

  She kissed his jaw. “But you didn’t. Why?”

  “Because there were more victims. Their families deserved to see him convicted. There may have been other victims, and those families would never have answers.”

  Her smile was gentle. “I told you—you are not like your father. You never could be.”

  “But . . .” And this was the part that he’d worried about since the day Tory’s killer had died. “I called the other victim’s family first. Before I called the cops.”

  “You think that, deep down, you wanted them to kill the bastard?”

  “Maybe? Did I use them? Did I really not want to do the right thing?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Ultimately, the choices the other family made were theirs, just like the choices you made were yours. You didn’t kill him. You called the police. You waited. The other family could have, too.” She sighed, moving closer until they were nose to nose. “You are not your father. I’ll tell you every day for the rest of our lives if that’s what you need to hear.”

  His heart eased. “Thank you.”

  She kissed him then, soft and sweet. “Is that it? All you needed to tell me?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Does your family know? I only ask so I know how to respond if anyone asks a question.”

  “They know everything except that I called the other family first.”

  She nodded once. “They’ll never hear it from me.” She settled back against him, her head on his shoulder. “You kept him from killing anyone else, Tom. I’m proud of you.”

  He shuddered out a breath, stunned by how much he’d needed those words. “Same. You scare me shitless, but I’m so damn proud of you.”

  She pressed a kiss to his chest. “We’re going to be just fine.”

  “We’re going to be perfect.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  ROCKLIN, CALIFORNIA

  SUNDAY, MAY 28, 10:45 P.M.

  Tom set the pizza box on the bed, not really caring what was inside, because Liza was in his bed, smiling up at him. “Pepperoni, extra cheese, green peppers, and mushrooms.”

  She sat cross-legged with the sheet tucked under her arms. All of the interesting parts were covered, but he figured he could persuade her to uncover again later. For now, she looked very happy and extremely relaxed and he felt a little thrill knowing he’d helped with that.

  Pebbles trotted through the open bedroom door, her tail wagging.

  “Did you bark at the evil pizza delivery man, Pebbles?” Liza crooned.

  “She always does. This guy was smart, though.” Tom set a six-pack of Coke on the nightstand. “He brought dog biscuits, probably hoping to buy some goodwill.”

  “But?”

  “But Pebbles has already forgotten about him.” Because as much as he loved the dog, she wasn’t very smart.

  “You’re a fickle girl,” she told Pebbles, who’d surprisingly bypassed the pizza, making a beeline for Liza, who’d leaned over to kiss the dog’s muzzle.

  Okay, so Pebbles was much smarter than he’d thought. Tom stripped off the jeans he’d put on to meet the delivery guy and got under the sheet with Liza, more than pleased with the way her gaze raked over his body.

  “Do we have to eat?” But then her stomach growled, making her laugh. “I guess we do.”

  “We need fuel.” He put a slice of pizza on a paper plate and passed it over to her. “Then we can go again.”

  She kissed his cheek. “A man with a plan,” she teased, then moaned when she bit into the pizza. “This is so much better than what Rafe got over the weekend. That was like cardboard.”

  He stared at her, his food forgotten, the moan kick-starting his libido.

  She saw him staring and laughed again. “Eat.”

  He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Which pizza place did Rafe call?” he asked after he’d devoured his first piece, because he’d been much hungrier than he’d thought. “I’ll avoid them.”

  She studied the box with a slight frown. “It might have been this one,” she said. “Maybe I just didn’t have any appetite that night.”

  He sighed and started to apologize, but she shoved another slice of pizza in his mouth.

  “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” she scolded. “Maybe we had to go there to get here.”

  He swallowed the bite he’d been force-fed. “Maybe. I still hate that I made you sad.”

  “So make me happy again later,” she said cheekily.

  He ate another piece, then pulled her hair aside so that he could reexamine the tattoo on her back. He still had so many questions about the tattoo artist. “That guy Sergio Iglesias? He did an amazing job with this.”

  “He did. I’m really pleased with it.”

  “Do you have to go back to have it colored in?”

  “I do. Probably next month. I thought I’d go before I start nursing school.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Maybe I’d like to go with you.”

  She clearly wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “Why?”

  “Maybe I’d like a day to get away with you, to take a drive. To go to lunch after your session is over. Like we did with the first tattoo. I assume wherever you went had restaurants nearby.” He nearly winced because he didn’t entirely believe himself.

  Neither did she, because her lips twitched. “Are you trying to get me to tell you where we went on Thursday?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why, Tom? Just tell me the truth.”

  He sighed. “Maybe I’m curious. Maybe I just like knowing about your day. And maybe I feel bad for the guy. You said the Bureau visit sent him into hiding.”

  “He thought they were ICE,” she said, scowling. “He has a green card, but some entitled bitch wasn’t satisfied with the tattoo he did, even though she signed off on the design. She threatened him. Even got some guys who claimed to be ICE to harass him.”

  It was his turn to scowl now. “That’s wrong.”

  She chuckled, leani
ng sideways to kiss his biceps. “You are really cute, you know that? Such a Dudley Do-Right.”

  “Will you stop calling me that?”

  She tilted her head. “Does it really bother you?”

  He sighed again. “No, not really. It’s fair enough.”

  “Well, I’ll stop anyway. You are very earnest, though.” She sobered. “It is wrong, and he’s scared to death. It wouldn’t be the first time someone got deported on made-up charges.”

  “I’ll make some calls,” he promised. “Let me see what I can do.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So . . . where did you go?”

  She laughed so loudly that Pebbles ran in circles, barking. “Oh my God. Okay.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Monterey. If Sergio says it’s okay, you can come with me next time.”

  “I’ll still make the calls.”

  “Because you are sincerely earnest. Nothing about you is an act.” She smiled at him and he thought he’d never get tired of the sight. “You’re a good man.”

  “Thank you. So how did you find him?”

  “Instagram and Facebook. It wasn’t hard. Any one of you Feds could have done it standing on your heads. Why didn’t you?”

  That was a damn good question. “Raeburn didn’t think it was a lead worth pursuing. It wasn’t like that person had been to Eden and could tell us where to find it.”

  “Well, he’s not wrong about part of it. William Holly—a.k.a. Boaz Travis—can’t lead you to Eden. He was only eleven years old when his mother got him out.”

  Tom hesitated. “He’s also dead.”

  She gaped, shocked. “How do you know that?”

  “We talked to DJ’s relatives—his aunt and uncle. They owned the house where Pastor’s wife and kids were living when Boaz Travis went to get the Eden tattoo. The aunt and uncle didn’t know who Pastor’s wife and kids were, but said that the elder Belmonts had grown fond of them while they rented. They said that ‘William’ committed suicide.”