Ashes

by Aleatha Romig

  I shrugged. “I don’t know that what they told me was true. I never knew if what Andros said was true or not.”

  Patrick clasped my hand and led me toward the middle door. “You were quiet at dinner.”

  “No. I was overwhelmed.” Thoughts of the dinner we’d just consumed were dominated not by the delicious food but the atmosphere. “I keep expecting the other men who heard my story to look at me, well, such as I am.”

  He stopped and with one large finger turned my cheek toward him. “They are, Maddie. As you are is a strong survivor who is also my wife and Ruby’s mother.”

  I shrugged. “And the women…the way they all interact. I’ve never…” A weary smile came to my lips. “I haven’t had a female friend…” I shrugged. “I can’t remember. I always tried to be nice to Andros’s staff, but that’s not the same thing.”

  Before opening the door, Patrick asked, “Who was Cindy?”

  My face snapped up to his. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Ruby asked me if I knew a Cindy. You named Ruby’s middle name, Cynthia, after her. Ruby said she was your friend.”

  “She was. May I tell you another time? I’m a little worn out by memories.” I lifted my arms around Patrick’s neck. Stretching on my tiptoes, I stared into his blue orbs. “For tonight, can we live in the present?”

  His powerful arms snaked around my waist, fingers splayed upon my lower back, and making their way under the sweater, he pulled me closer against his hard chest. “Yes. Only the present.” His lips came to mine. The fire he’d rekindled at the hotel flickered. The ghosts of memories past evaporated like smoke as sparks ignited into flames, its heat smoldering beneath my skin. Warmth flooded my core as my nipples hardened.

  I pulled back, looking up. I recalled his declaration on the plane days ago. “What you said about not making love to me, not until you had all of me?”

  He ran his hand through my hair, momentarily fascinated with the dark strands. When his gaze returned, it swirled with emotions. “I want to make love to my wife. I want to spend tonight in the security of our tower and comfort of our bed, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that our daughter is safe. I want to take you to the brink of pleasure and watch as your body surrenders, imploding from within, time after time. I want to spend one night without thoughts of the past in either of our heads.

  “I know you have more to tell. And when you’re ready, Maddie, I’m here. I’ll always be here. I vowed that seventeen years ago, and I pledge it tonight. You’ve shared enough for me to understand where those clouds originate. That said, don’t let them ever be brought on by worry about me. Nothing you revealed, nothing you shared or will share, can now or ever scare me away.

  “I want you more right now than I did when we were on the plane, in the club, or the hotel. I have my wife back. I have a daughter. With you back in it, my life is more than I ever imagined.” He reached for my hand, kissing the palm, and laid it upon his wide chest. “My heart is beating in triple time because as much as I want to do all of that, I need to know you want it too, want me. Because while I can’t erase the past, I will never give you reason to relive it. If you’d rather talk, watch TV, or even sleep in one of the other bedrooms, it will fucking kill me—death by unsatisfied erection—but I will support you.”

  Beneath my hand, his racing heart brought a smile to my lips. “I want you, Patrick. I always have, as my friend, my lover, and my husband. I want everything you said and more.” A mischievous grin came to my lips. “And I could never live with myself if I lost you to such a curable ailment.”

  After opening the door, Patrick again took my hand, intertwining our fingers, and led me through the doorway. The lights within were off, yet beyond the windows and far below, the lights of Chicago twinkled. Down the hallway we went and into the master bedroom. With a flip of the switch, the windows became mirrors to the night and the room flooded with warm light.

  “Lights on or off?” he asked.

  I scanned the man before me. He still wore his suit trousers and a white button-up shirt. In his more casual style, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his jacket and tie were gone. His chiseled jaw held just the right amount of beard growth, and his eyes shone such as a spring sky under his golden eyebrows and hair.

  “On,” I said. “On, because if the clouds…” What he calls my memories. “…return, all I have to do is open my eyes and see the man who loves me when no one should.”

  His lips curled upward as he came to me. “Lights on, because I can see the most astonishing woman in the world who deserves all the love I can provide. Lights on, so I can make love to you and watch your gorgeous green eyes.” He reached for the hem of the white sweater and lifted it over my head. The length of my hair flowed down my back. His fingertips skirted over my collarbone and shoulders, leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Lights on, so that I can see your flawless skin as I…” He kissed my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “…taste you.”

  I reached behind and unclasped the bra as he tugged it from my shoulders. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I bent down to unzip the boots when Patrick knelt before me.

  “Having you back is a gift I want to unwrap.”

  Setting my hands behind me, I leaned back as he removed my boots, socks, and slacks. Latching his long fingers around the waist of my panties, I lifted my hips as he tugged them over my thighs and down to my ankles until they too were lost to the floor.

  My cheeks rose, taking in his now-standing toned form. “Our state of dress is unfair.”

  “I could fucking look at you for hours.” His head tilted as he leaned forward, brushing the tip of his finger over an old scar. “I didn’t see this at the hotel or on the plane.” His blue eyes met mine. “What happened?”

  They were back, the clouds, building and billowing on the horizon.

  No. I wouldn’t let them steal my joy.

  “Living in the present,” I reminded him. Pushing the clouds and memories away, I stood and reached for the buttons of his shirt. “I want to look, too.”

  Patrick didn’t push for an answer or protest as my fingers nimbly loosened one button and then another. I tugged his starched shirt over his shoulders, revealing his defined torso. Once his shirt was gone, I again laid my hand against his chest. “Your heart is still beating fast.”

  Placing his arms under my legs and shoulders, he lifted me up, cradling me against his broad chest as he carried me to the bed and threw back the blankets.

  “Tell me your name,” he demanded as he laid me upon the soft sheets.

  “Madeline Kelly.”

  Unlatching his belt and trousers, Patrick allowed them to fall to his ankles. His leather loafers were next, followed by the pants. Within the confines of his silk boxer briefs, his erection strained against the fabric.

  My gaze fluttered from the boxers to his blue eyes and back as I moved upon the mattress to my knees and reached for the waistband. His length sprang forward as I lowered the silk. Leaning forward, I ran my tongue over the glistening tip, eliciting a deep growl radiating from his chest. Opening my lips, I took him in as far as I could, wrapping my fingers around the remainder of his length. Opening my eyes, I peered upward until our eyes met. His pupils had grown, a signal of the intensity of his arousal. Under my touch his balls tightened, the muscles in his thighs stiffened, and his fingers wove through my hair.

  “Fuck, Maddie.”

  I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his as I slowly moved up and down his hard shaft. With each flick of my tongue, his cock twitched until without warning, he stepped back. “Lie back, Maddie. I’m selfish and want the pleasure of watching you come.”

  His deep tenor covered my skin with goose bumps while his words painfully twisted my core. He followed me to the mattress, the bed dipping with our weight as his hard chest flattened my breasts and our lips met. With the fervor of a man on the brink of starvation, his lips bruised mine as our tongues danced.

  Patrick tasted of the wine we’d ha
d at dinner while his warm skin against mine smelled of cologne.

  Downward he moved, kissing and nipping my flesh. One nipple and then the other grew rock hard as he teased them with his fingers and lips. Lower still he moved, spreading my legs. His warm breath reached my core a moment before his tongue licked my clit. Explosions of fireworks detonated before my eyes.

  My thighs pushed inward, yet he persisted. Two fingers found my entrance as his tongue and lips continued their assault. Deeper and deeper his fingers thrust until they curled. Uncontrollably, my back arched, instinctively sliding away and trying to create space. Yet Patrick wouldn’t allow it.

  I reached out frantically to the bed, for some semblance of stability, but was unable to grasp the soft sheets. My fingers went to his head as his coarse beard growth upon my sensitive skin added to the mix of sensations. It was too much and not enough. My core clenched around his fingers.

  The heat between my legs intensified and I cried out words I couldn’t decipher. Each nerve throughout my body grew taut until I was fully electrified from my tingling scalp to curling toes. The sensation persisted as I panted for breath.

  While I was riding the wave of ecstasy, Patrick moved, covering me with his solid warmth and without prelude filled me. I whimpered in relief and shock as with one deep thrust, his girth stretched my core. There was no resistance as my wetness welcomed his invasion. His earlier self-control waned as he too gave into the sensations of our union. Erratic movements varied his speed and guttural growls resonated from his throat. There was no rhythm, only animalistic need as he slammed into me, each drive plunging to its limit.

  I was his for the taking, and yet there was nothing depraved or demeaning about it. His words of praise and appreciation were spoken, reverberating through the air along with our thundering heartbeats and gasps for air. I was exactly where I wanted to be, opening myself not only physically but emotionally, such as I’d not done since Patrick.

  In time, we found our cadence, moving in sync as our bodies met one another, thrust for thrust. My hands skirted over his broad shoulders as the muscles beneath tightened.

  This was different than fucking. While it held the same intensity, there was more—a connection like I’d never known with anyone else. Perspiration covered our skin as our gazes locked. Lifting my hands, his fingers found mine and intertwined.

  This was lovemaking on steroids and with each second, my closed-off heart grew fuller.

  Stilling over me, Patrick lifted his torso. With our bodies still connected, his handsome face filled my vision. The sound of our beating hearts and labored breathing filled the musk-scented air.

  “You’re mine, Maddie. There’s never been anyone else to have a piece of my heart. I have you back, and I will never let you go.”

  “Don’t, Patrick, don’t ever let me go. Where I am is where I want to be.”

  Our eyes remained locked as his speed increased, bringing me with him. My hips joined his as his movements sped faster and faster. Freeing my hands, my nails gripped his arms as the room filled with my moans and his growl—sounds of pleasure creating a chorus.

  Again, my core clenched. Unlike last time, this one built slower and peaked higher. I called out Patrick’s name as his growl vibrated his chest and his cock jerked within me.

  Easing himself out, we rolled until we were both facing one another.

  Patrick smoothed a rogue strand of my hair away from my face. “I feel like I’m living a dream, and I’m fucking terrified I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.”

  “Please don’t let that happen.”

  Patrick pulled me close against his warm skin. “Never.”

  Patrick

  Waking, I stirred on the sheets and marveled at the woman in my bed. Her dark hair lay upon the pillow, her long lashes lay upon her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted. Beneath the covers, she wore nothing, sleeping in the same attire as I. That would change, I supposed, when Ruby was down the hall instead of upstairs. There was so much I didn’t know about being a father, and yet I was eager to learn.

  Whether it was living on the street, following orders in the army, succeeding at the University of Chicago, or helping to run Sparrow’s underground, I’d met each trial head-on. Parenting would be a welcome challenge, especially with Madeline to guide me.

  Though the sky was still dark, I eased away from her warmth and quietly slid from the bed. Stepping into a pair of sweatpants and slippers, and pulling a t-shirt over my head, I turned one last time to take in the woman I loved, the one I would do anything to protect, the one I’d failed beyond measure.

  Yesterday, before dinner, as I’d entered 2, I’d learned updated news from my colleagues. Instead of acting last night, we agreed that for the harmony of the household, it would be better for our actions to wait.

  Now the next day was here, and the time was at hand.

  We’d been right that Hillman had been planning his own coup. He wanted both Detroit and Chicago. It was a lofty goal for a man with no foothold in either place. The work he’d done within Chicago on Ivanov’s behalf wasn’t as it appeared. Hillman, with McFadden’s backing, was working for himself. His goal was to revive the McFadden empire.

  According to prison records, he’d met many times over the last few months with both his father and Rubio McFadden.

  Therefore, while Ivanov had been the one to declare war, he’d been deceived from within. His army wasn’t what he’d planned on or presumed to be. That meant that now he was vulnerable—as a leader and as a man. He’d made promises to his men that he couldn’t deliver.

  There were men scattered about Chicago and Detroit who were ripe for the picking while suffering from the now widely reported loss of their presumed future leader, Antonio Hillman.

  A quick push of the button in the kitchen and I filled a mug with steaming coffee. Making my way out of the apartment, I stilled as a new thought came to mind. Back in my home office, I found a small pad of paper and wrote Maddie a note. It was a new sentiment to be accountable to someone I loved.

  * * *

  Maddie,

  I couldn’t wake you. You are too beautiful and perfect asleep in our bed. I’m on 2, the floor below, and will be back up to see if you want to join the others in the penthouse for breakfast.

  I love you,

  Patrick

  * * *

  Quietly placing the note on the bedside stand near Madeline, I found myself again staring at the sleeping woman, mesmerized by not only her presence but her calm. After all she’d been through, that was my goal, for her to know she’s loved and finally feel safe.

  Those weren’t different goals than I’d had when we first wed.

  Again, I went down the hallway, made my way out of the apartment, and into the entryway. It was a little after four in the morning, and I didn’t know who I’d find on 2, only that I had my women safe and now it was time for war.

  The mug warmed my fingers as I took the elevator down a floor. My palm hovered near the sensor as the steel door opened. Reid looked up at the sound of the door.

  “Didn’t expect you to be the first one here,” he said with a grin.

  “I’m creating a list.”

  “A list?”

  “Of who I plan to kill,” I replied. “Andros Ivanov is the first. Let’s get this war settled. Chicago is ours.”

  Reid nodded. “And opening up Detroit to the vultures will benefit us how?”

  I set my coffee down on a worktable. Pulling out a chair, I spun it around. Straddling the back, I sat. “Don’t fucking suggest a truce. This goes beyond Ivanov’s declaration.”

  “I get that.”

  I ran my hand over the top of my head. “Fill me in on what you know about what Madeline told us.” Even though Reid wasn’t listening as she spoke, he’d been fully briefed concerning McFadden and the mission.

  “McFadden is sitting in a federal penitentiary. I’m not saying we don’t have people on the inside if you’re determined to kill him. I’m s
aying that doing so will create a new set of issues and honestly, in my opinion, death is too good for the scum. I’d be happier knowing he’s someone’s bitch.”

  “But he’s not,” I replied. “From our intel, he’s gaining power even within the system. He and Wendell Hillman are working alliances inside and out.”

  “Listen to yourself, Patrick. They’re gaining power through…alliances. You did that in Denver with the cartel. Detroit and Chicago, working together—”

  I stood, my momentum sending my chair rolling into the desk. “No.”

  “I’ve been looking into the bratva,” Reid said. “Usually when Ivanov travels he has one of these two men with him.”

  The pictures of two men appeared on the screen above. One I recognized from Club Regal the night of the final round.

  “I want to talk to Madeline,” Reid said, “and learn more about their roles.”

  “Are you asking me?”

  “Did she or didn’t she offer Sparrow any information that would help?”

  “She did, but…”

  “I know their names,” Reid went on. “The one on the right is Sasha Bykov. Sasha is short for Alexander. He’s listed as an employee at Ivanov Construction. The one on the left is Nikita Gorky. He’s listed as one of the top shareholders in the Michigan casino on the river across from Windsor.

  “He was the one with Ivanov at the tournament. I want to know what I can’t learn on a search, their importance in Ivanov’s chain of command.”

  “I hate making her relive—”

  “I get it,” he said. “I understand your hesitation, but damn. I know she’s your wife. I know she’s been through a lot, but there’s no way she lived seventeen years with Ivanov and doesn’t have pertinent information.”

  I thought back since our reunion. “She mentioned something,” I said, “about dissension within the ranks. She said we were different.”