“Gracie.” Still holding her chin, he trailed a thumb along her bottom lip, reminding her of those lovely words he had said about her mouth. The curves of your lips rewrite history.
Further proof that he thought she was desirable. Why dash the delusion?
“Talk to me,” he prodded.
“I don’t feel guilty because Charles and I aren’t . . .” She swallowed. This was harder than she expected. “We’re not real. Our relationship is a sham. Something cooked up by father to make me look more likable. To earn public favor.” She smiled weakly. Saying it out loud made her feel all the more lame.
Reid stared down at her with that all-seeing gaze, and for the first time she knew he was seeing it all. Every bit of her with all her insecurities and flaws.
“You’re saying you just dated this guy because your father wanted you to. For publicity?”
Cue mortification and flaming cheeks. She nodded, adding dumbly, “Everyone loves a romance.”
“So you haven’t slept with him?”
“We’ve kissed. Made it to second base. Tried for third and that was a disaster. No sparks. Pathetic, right?”
“So you’re telling me you’re single.” One corner of his mouth kicked up playfully, and she let loose a short burst of laughter before she slapped a hand over her mouth, quickly smothering the sound.
“Because right now that makes a difference,” she joked with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. He’d already had his way with her and she had reveled in it.
He left the bed suddenly, and she thought maybe she had angered him, but then he was back, covering her body with his. She caught the glint of foil between his teeth, heard the sharp rip and understood.
He reached between them and rolled the condom on, his blazing gaze finding hers. “Fuck, yes, it makes a difference.” He entered her in one hard thrust. “It means there’s no one between us. No ghost of a boyfriend. Just us. And sparks. We have plenty of those.”
She opened her mouth on a sharp cry as he started a fierce tempo. He took hold of her hips and lifted them, angling her so he was targeting the spot that made her shake and spots dance in front of her eyes. How was it that she could have known this man for so short a time but he already knew her body and how to play it like an instrument?
His mouth collided with hers, words a harsh mutter, “It means this is mine.”
She wrapped both arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck, afraid he would see her response in her expression. Because it was impossible. Complicated and stamped with a fat, irrevocable end date on it. This connection they felt couldn’t go anywhere. They both admitted that. They both knew it. Still, it didn’t change how she felt.
He is mine, too.
Twenty
Dawn tinged the room a purpling blue as he watched Grace sleep. The occasional lightning flashed against the curtain, followed moments later by a rumble of thunder. The storm hadn’t reached them yet, but it was coming. Rain was rare in this part of the state, but when it happened, it hit hard.
Her eyelids flickered and he wondered at her dreams. Hopefully, they weren’t anything like his. He’d only dozed, but images had infiltrated, haunted him in those fleeting moments. Images of Grace running. Gunshots. Blood. One moment he was standing over the body of the security guard from all those years ago, and then he was rolling him over and he wasn’t the security guard anymore. He was Grace. Reid woke up shaking. After that, he gave up on sleep.
Watching her curled up on her side, the sheet wrapped around her naked body, he tried to figure out what the hell his next move should be.
Maybe there could be a way he could trick Sullivan into thinking she was dead. He winced, hating the thought of using her like that, though.
And what are you doing now if not using her?
The voice whispered insidiously through him. He’d taken her, enjoyed her (several times), and justified it all by telling himself that she wanted him, too. As if that were enough. As if that made it right. She was the sweetest thing he had ever touched. Beyond innocent. She was good and pure and deserved better than him. He needed to let her go before her heart became any more involved than it was. He knew she felt something for him and that it wasn’t ego talking. A girl like Grace didn’t sleep with a guy without some tender feelings.
He had to let her go. Whatever he had to do to get to Sullivan, he was going to do it without her.
Decision made, he contemplated the series of events likely to follow dropping her at the nearest sheriff’s office. Once that happened, her safe return to the world wouldn’t remain secret for long. Even if the media didn’t immediately catch wind of it, with his extensive connections, Sullivan likely would. Reid couldn’t lie and tell the bastard he’d done the dirty deed. He didn’t even want to think about it.
He brought his hand up in the small space between them, trailing his fingers up and down the ladder of her spine, relishing the feel of her skin, the bump of every vertebra.
She stirred and he slid down in the bed, lifting the sheet to give him better access to her—and a better view. He wanted to remember everything about her. Even if Sullivan’s men didn’t gun him down, he was headed right back to prison. He wanted every moment with her imprinted on his mind, branded there forever so he had something to take out and hold when he was alone in his cell—the few brief days he had known freedom . . . where he’d lost himself in a woman who made everything else in the world fade away.
He curled alongside her body, her back to his chest, spooning her into his longer length. Another rumble of thunder rocked the air in the distance.
“I love rain and thunderstorms,” she whispered into the thick space around them, letting him know she was awake without turning around to face him.
“They don’t happen that much out here, but when they do, they’re something else. It’s like the wrath of God striking earth.”
Her breath fanned against the pillow, rasping the cotton. He was so attuned to her. Every little sound and movement. He’d never felt this connection with another person. It was dangerous and scary as hell. Just another reason why he had to let her go.
“When I was a little girl in my bed at night, I would listen to the rain and thunder . . . watch the lightning flash from behind my curtains. It made me feel better.”
“Why did you need to feel better?” His fingers brushed the silk of her hair off her nape.
She turned her head to look back at him, a ghost of a smile gracing her lips. “You think I have this perfect life.”
No, he knew she didn’t, and it knifed his heart to know she didn’t. Because she deserved it. He smiled lightly at her. “It wasn’t all castles, princess?”
Her look got faraway. “There were always castles with plenty of space to get lost in. Trust me, I usually hid. Until my father sent for me and then I would have to perform.” She winced. “That might not have been so bad if he ever liked anything I did. If he didn’t critique my every word . . . my everything.”
He slid farther down on the bed, until they were nose-to-nose. “I’m sure the next time you see him there won’t be any critique. He’s just going to be glad to see you.”
She sighed with deliberate drama. “It would be kind of dick of him to act any other way.”
Reid chuckled. “He won’t be acting.”
Her laughter mingled with his and then faded. “It’s going to be different now, you know.”
He tensed, afraid that she meant because of him things were going to be different. He didn’t want to hear that. Didn’t want to know he’d fucked her up and affected her future.
“No. It won’t. You’ll go back to your life. You’ll marry Charlie or whatever-his-name and you’ll forget all about this.”
She sat up abruptly, clutching the sheet over her amazing breasts and looking down at him like he’d just kicked her cat. “You mean forget about you? That’s what you want?” Pain swam in those chocolate eyes. Pain that he put there, and he hated himself for that. “You
want me to marry Charles?”
No, he didn’t want her to marry anyone. But they had no future. She needed to forget him and move on with her life. She would marry that idiot and he’d soon realize what he had in her. How could he not?
She dropped onto her back with a huff.
He stared at her, waiting.
She sighed. “I don’t want to marry him. Even without you, I’d reached that conclusion.”
He tried not to smile or look as relieved as he felt. “What are you going to do, then?”
“Leave DC. Take some time for me. Maybe go back to grad school. Have you ever heard of the McDonald Observatory?”
He propped on an elbow and looked down at her. “Yeah. It’s near here. Out by Fort Davis. Never been. My grandfather talked about taking us there. Never got around to it.”
“I’ve never even been there either. It has some of the largest telescopes in the world. You have the darkest, clearest skies out here, did you know that? Excellent conditions for stargazing.”
“I didn’t know that,” he replied, watching her, loving how rapt her expression was as she talked about stargazing.
“Can you imagine seeing a comet through one of those scopes? There’s one called Seraphina, its next orbital period lands on New Year’s eve. Only visible at an observatory, of course.”
“Maybe you can go,” he suggested.
She met his stare, almost challenging. “Maybe I will.”
Silence swelled between them, full of things that needed to be said.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he finally said.
“Not your fault. I’m used to sleeping alone. Another body in bed with me throws me off.”
He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled all her lush curves more firmly against him. Something swelled in his chest. She wasn’t bound to some other man. Of course, she would be someday. Even if it wasn’t Charlie. A woman like Grace, with all she had to offer, wouldn’t stay single for long.
She rolled over and brought her smooth palm to his face. She held his cheek. “You’re looking stern again.”
“We have to talk about what’s going to happen.”
Her smile faded. “And what’s that?”
“You need to go home.”
From her expression, he guessed that was not what she expected him to say. “And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do what I broke out of prison to do.”
“You’re going to kill Sullivan,” she said flatly, but damn if her eyes weren’t full of disappointment.
He nodded once. “I have to do it.”
“You don’t have to. You’re not a killer, Reid.” She gripped his arm, her fingers pressing deep.
“He took eleven years from me. I don’t think you realize just how bad a man he—”
“And you’re not. Come with me. Let’s go to the police together.” Her hand slid up his arm to squeeze his shoulder. “We can explain everything to them . . . to my father—”
“Sullivan is powerful. He’s got other powerful people in his pocket. There’s not a chance in hell anyone is going to listen to me over him.”
She reached between them, her hands cradling his face. “I will. I’ll listen. I’ll make others listen.”
He gripped her hands and pulled them back down from his face, needing to be strong, needing to resist her pleas. “As soon as I show up with you, my ass is back in jail. And then my chance to get to him is done.”
“But he wants me dead,” she argued. “He won’t see you without proof that I’m dead.”
“The guy isn’t going to let me get close to him. I realize that now. I’m an escaped con. It’s too risky. He’s just getting me to do his dirty work for him. If I had killed you, he would have probably ratted me out once I did his bidding.”
“So what will you do, then?”
“I’ll think of a plan. One that doesn’t involve you.”
“But if you set me free, he’ll know you didn’t listen to him. He’ll be on the lookout for you.”
“I’ll deal with that. I know where he lives. I’ll—” He stopped short and shook his head. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. It’s not your problem.”
Her gaze flitted left and right and he knew she was thinking, plotting. “I’ll stay here,” she declared.
He pulled back. “What?”
“Leave me the keys. You got the bike running. Take that. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to get to him and then I’ll drive myself to the nearest sheriff station. You can tell him that you did it. That you killed me. He won’t expect you to come after him. He’ll think you’re in his pocket. His guard will be down.”
He opened his mouth to tell her that wouldn’t help him, but his mind was racing. It just might work. He shook his head. No, he was finished using her. He wouldn’t drag her into his vendetta. “No. The safest place for you is away from here.”
She waved a hand. “No one is going to show up here. I’ll be fine.”
He hesitated, staring at her face, concern for her warring with his desperate need to destroy Sullivan. “Twenty-four hours,” he finally said.
She smiled and nodded. “All right. I’ll leave here in twenty-four hours.” She slid her arms around his shoulders. “You know you’re going to have to finally tell me where you’ve been hiding the keys to the van.”
He fought to ignore the knot of uncertainty that he was doing wrong by her and murmured, “You might have to search me thoroughly.”
Her hands dipped between them and closed around his dick, her eyes rounding in wonder. “Again?” she queried.
“One more time,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her mouth. The last time.
Twenty-One
Grace followed Reid out into the yard. She shivered, rubbing her arms. The rain had stopped but it was still chilly, even with the sun breaking through the clouds.
He stopped in front of his bike and faced her. He stared at her for a long moment, his pale eyes catching the sunlight. There was something there, some emotion, but she couldn’t name it. A slow smile lifted the corner of his mouth and he reached for her face, brushing a thumb down her cheek. “This time tomorrow. Promise me.” He jerked a thumb toward the van. “You’ll be heading east to the nearest county sheriff.”
“Promise,” she said, even though her throat deliberately closed up at the lie. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Your heart is too big, Grace Reeves. You need to find someplace where you want to be. Where your light can shine. Go to that observatory. I want to think of you there, watching your comet on New Year’s eve.”
“I will,” she promised, this time not choking on the lie because she intended to do that. If this experience had taught her anything, it was that she couldn’t go back to the way she was before. She wouldn’t be going back to DC. Her old life was gone, and good riddance. Things would be different now.
She looked down at the ground and then back at him, wondering why she felt so awkward after everything she had shared with this man. Moistening her lips, she knew she had to try to reach him one more time. “I wish you wouldn’t do this.”
“I have to finish it.”
She squashed that part of her that cried out: But what about us? What about finishing what we have started? Disappointment lanced through her. She turned her face away, unable to look at him in that moment.
“There was never any doubt of that, Gracie,” he added. “I have to do this.”
She snorted, crossing her arms. Because this was what mattered to him. More than anything else. He could turn himself in and try to prove his innocence with her help. Or he could even flee. Run to Mexico where he could maybe have a life. No. The stubborn jerk wanted revenge more than either of those options.
“I need justice—”
Her gaze wrenched back to him. “Oh, let’s just call it what it is. You want revenge.”
He stared at her stonily, so much like the stranger she first met that her heart ached. “Fine. Call it that
if you want. It doesn’t change anything.” He took a step closer, the great wall of him encroaching on her space, giving her no way out around him. “I don’t want to say good-bye like this.”
Her eyes started to sting. This was it, then.
She didn’t know what was going to happen . . . if he was going to walk out of this confrontation with Sullivan or not. She was going to try to make sure that he did, but she didn’t know. Anything could go wrong with her plan.
She uncrossed her arms and flung them around him. He caught her up in his arms and lifted her off the ground, his mouth claiming hers until she was dizzy and breathless. He pulled back, still holding her, and she resisted the impulse to chase that mouth with her own.
“Good-bye, Gracie.”
Her chest heaved. It was on the tip of her tongue to insist that it didn’t have to be good-bye. She could visit him in prison. She could promise him that. But staring at his resolute expression, she knew he would tell her not to come. He wouldn’t want her to see him like that—as an inmate. A caged man. True, it would be hard. A bitter thing, but the idea that this could be the last time she saw him was even worse.
He set her down and walked away, his strides swift as he straddled his bike. It took two tries but he got the great beast of gleaming chrome started. He didn’t look at her again as he pulled out onto the road.
Grace waited anxiously, her heart in her throat as she watched his bike fade in the distance. Satisfied that he was well and truly out of sight, she turned and raced inside, grabbing the keys and the stash of money he’d left her (in case she needed it) off the table.
Ten seconds later she was sitting in the van, turning the ignition and heading after him, careful to keep a good distance, well out of sight behind him.
She knew he was headed for Sullivan’s house in Sweet Hill. She bumped along the unpaved road, determined to be there, too. When all hell broke loose, she was going to be there. She only knew she had to be.
This time when the police showed up, Reid wouldn’t be alone. It wouldn’t be like the last time, when he was a kid. She would be there to speak on his behalf. Even if he went through with it and actually killed Sullivan—and she was hoping he wouldn’t . . . that he would discover he wasn’t capable of murder—the world would know the truth. The world would know what kind of man Sullivan was and why Reid broke out of prison and went after him.