by Nina Croft
“Not yet.”
Harry had reopened the investigation into Summer, mainly looking from a financial point of view. Nik did feel a little guilty prying into her life, but if she was in trouble, then he wanted to know about it. Even more, he wanted to be in a position to get her out of that trouble. Maybe she was being blackmailed. Her life could be in danger.
“I had a thought,” he said. “I’ve made a list of charities. I’m sending them to you. I want you to see if you can find out if they had any big donations at the time Summer stole the money from us.”
“You think she gave it away?”
He’d expected Harry to show disbelief, but his friend actually sounded thoughtful.
“Well, I’m pretty certain she never spent it on herself.”
“No.”
He felt himself smiling for the first time since Summer had done her vanishing act. “I think you’re starting to like her.”
Harry didn’t respond to that. “I’ll let you know when we have anything.”
Nik had meetings until noon. Afterward, he had no clue what they were about. His mind wouldn’t focus on work. He kept getting images of Summer flashing in his brain. Summer laughing, smiling, looking sad. Summer lying beneath him, falling apart.
And he couldn’t shake the conviction that he was missing something. He remembered back to that day almost three years ago. When he’d realized she was gone, had run away. At the time, the money had seemed secondary. He’d known she’d been shocked when she’d discovered that he owned the company she worked for. But he’d presumed she’d get over it. Then the web of lies she’d woven around him started to unravel. The missing money. Still he’d believed in her. Her innate goodness. She’d changed him, even back then.
He’d always believed his money defined him. It was who he was. The first thing people thought about when they met him. It was pathetic, but those evening conversations with Summer had made him realize that his wealth was only a small part of him. Growing up rich had maybe shaped him, but it didn’t mean he had to act in a prescribed manner. He could be anyone he wanted to be.
His father had often skimmed the line between right and wrong. He came from an age where profit was all that mattered. Nik had tried to change that, even before Summer. He did what was right, and profit was never his strongest motivator. But maybe that was easy when he had so much money of his own.
He got up and stood staring out the window over the city spread out below him. He tried to locate where Summer’s apartment was in the sprawl of streets, but it was lost in the heat haze settled over the city.
She would be back tomorrow.
As soon as the thought entered his mind, he knew it was a lie.
She wasn’t coming back.
She was going to do what Summer did best.
Run.
He grabbed his phone from the desk, shoved it into his pocket, and headed out. At the last moment, he hesitated, went back to his desk and pulled his checkbook from the drawer. Maybe this was one situation where money could help. If she was in trouble, maybe he had the wherewithal to buy her out of it.
After all, wasn’t that what he did best?
He’d given his driver the rest of the day off, since he hadn’t been expecting to go anywhere. So he got out of the elevator at ground level and headed out onto the street. A black cab passed almost immediately. He raised his hand, and it stopped beside him. He gave the driver Summer’s address and climbed in, biting back the urge to tell him to go fast.
After the cab dropped him off, he headed down to the alley entrance. Would she already be gone?
He rang the bell. No answer.
He looked up but could see no sign of life. The curtains to the sitting room were open, but nothing stirred behind them. He stood for a moment, thinking, then headed around to the front of the building and through the glass doors into the gym. The same woman who’d been there the first night he’d brought Summer here was on reception. She clearly recognized him and smiled. “Are you looking for Summer?”
“Yes.”
“She’s through there”—she waved a hand at a door—“down the corridor, last door on the right.”
“Thank you.”
He headed through the door into a white-painted corridor. The place was clean and bright and smelled vaguely of fresh sweat. He’d never used a public gym in his life. Why would he, when he had a private one at his home and his workplace? His feet slowed as he approached the door. It was closed, and he hesitated for a moment. Inside, he could hear muted voices.
He turned the handle and pushed open the door.
Summer.
She had her back to him and was dressed in black sweats and a black tank top, her hair pulled into a ponytail. She was sparring with another woman. One who was taller, with short spiky blond hair, tattoos down her arm, and a ring through her nose.
She glanced up at that moment, caught sight of Nik in the doorway and hesitated. That gave Summer an opening. Whirling around, she kicked out and knocked the other woman to the mat.
Unfortunately, midspin, Summer caught sight of Nik. She appeared to stop still, lost her balance, and tumbled down on top of the other woman.
Nik leaned on the wall, his arms folded while he waited for them to untangle themselves. And while he waited for his heart to slow.
The certainty that she was gone, that he wouldn’t see her for another three years, or maybe forever, had been like a heavy weight in his middle, dragging him down. Now he felt curiously light. There was still a chance he could persuade her to stay, to see if they could make this thing between them work.
Summer got up first, brushing herself down while casting sneaky glances at Nik. She didn’t look happy to see him, her brows drawn together, her mouth in a tight line. She held out a hand to the other woman, who took it and pulled herself up.
“I never thought Summer Delaney would ever manage to knock me on my ass,” she muttered as she eyed Nik up and down. “Nik Masterton, I presume.” She let go of Summer and took a step toward him, holding out her hand.
So he wasn’t seen as the total enemy then. He shook hands while she studied him, though he could read nothing from her face. She was beautiful in a…frightening sort of way. She looked tough. He was glad Summer had someone like this on her side. “I’m Darcy Butler,” she said. “Summer’s friend. But I’m guessing you want to talk to Summer alone.”
“Darcy—” Summer interrupted, but Darcy waved her down.
“Stop running away,” she said. “Or at least stop running so fast. Maybe you need to tell him, Summer.”
She shrugged almost helplessly.
“Time to learn to trust your instincts. I’m going to stay down here so you can have the apartment to yourselves. But you”—she took a step closer to Nik and stabbed him in the chest with her finger—“be nice.”
…
They didn’t speak as Summer led him through the building to the door at the back that opened onto the stairs to the apartment. She ushered him up in front of her, trying to get a grip on her feelings.
She’d had such big plans. To change her life, to help others, make a difference… Now none of that was going to happen. She’d convinced Regan and Darcy that her new plan was the only one. She was just going to disappear. She’d be breaking her parole, which meant she’d be back inside if they caught her anyway. But when it all quieted down, maybe in a few years, then she could set things up on a more permanent basis. Danny would help her with a new identity, but right now, things were just too messy, and she wouldn’t have Danny tied to her more than necessary.
She was using her alias from her first time at Masterton. Because the crime had never been reported, there was a good chance that no one would be looking for Sarah Daniels. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a passport, which meant she couldn’t disappear abroad. So she was going to head up north, to Scotland. When Trenton remembered who she was, he’d no doubt come straight to Nik to warn him of what sort of evil felon he’d been harboring.
Nik would tell him she’d vanished, and that would be it. There was no reason to look further, or to link her to the woman who’d had an accident in his factory all those years ago. Her mother would be safe.
She’d drawn what little money she had out of the bank. It would be enough to keep her going until she could find some sort of job. It would be hard, but she would manage. And it was better than staying and ending up back in prison. A shudder ran through her.
But while Regan and Darcy hadn’t been able to come up with a better idea, they’d both been insistent that she go and talk to Nik before she did her disappearing act. She couldn’t face it. In the end, she’d promised to leave him a note explaining why she had to go and asking him not to look for her.
Yet here he was. They halted by the door to the apartment, and she opened it, her fingers fumbling a little with the key. She had no clue what he was thinking. Was he angry with her?
As she stepped through the door, he followed her close behind. She opened her mouth to say something—she wasn’t even sure what—when he slammed the door behind her, took hold of her shoulders, lowered his head, and kissed her.
Her mouth, already open, was instantly filled with the taste of him, heat and spice, sending her thoughts swirling. He hauled her closer so she was plastered against the length of him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she came up on tiptoe, desperate to get closer. He was already hard against her, and she was melting inside.
Finally, they had to come up for air. Both were breathing hard. She opened her mouth, and he kissed her again. A quick kiss, but enough to stop the words from tumbling out. Once she had said them, there would be no going back.
He raised his head. “No,” he muttered. “Not yet. Just give me this. Just because we both want to, and it feels right and…”
He trailed off, not saying what they both knew to be true. That it might never happen again. She swallowed and allowed the fear to drain out of her. Whatever happened, she would have this. She leaned back and looked into his beautiful face, ran her hand over his shadowed jawline, feeling the roughness of his skin. She was hot and sweaty from trying to work off her fears with Darcy, but she didn’t think Nik would mind.
He was nuzzling her neck now, his tongue lapping at her skin, his teeth nipping at the soft spot where her shoulder met her throat. His hands slid down her back, and he scooped her up, held her against his chest. “Where?”
She nodded to her bedroom door, and he headed over, kicking it open and then lowering her to the mattress. There was no time for more thoughts as he came over her, cupping her face, kissing her mouth, her eyes. With his free hand, he tugged up her tank top and pulled it over her head. Her sports bra zipped up the front, and he lowered the zipper, his head nuzzling her breasts as soon as they sprang free. He licked her nipples, then sucked one into his hot mouth, rolling it against his tongue, and pleasure darted from the tip of her breast, down through her belly, to settle between her thighs. A pulse beat there, growing insistent.
One hand slid down the waistband of her sweats, inside her panties, finding her unerringly, his fingers gliding between the slippery folds. She went still.
His touch, so firm and knowing, went to the exact spot. Softly, he circled her clit, and her hips lifted from the bed. He stopped moving, and she opened her eyes and found him watching her.
“I want to see you come apart for me,” he murmured. “I’ve been dreaming about that since the last time.”
A finger pushed inside her, his knuckle pressing, rubbing against her inner walls, as his thumb played over her clit, massaging softly, then harder as she pushed up against his touch.
The pleasure was building, swelling, her whole body tightening, then he moved his finger faster and finally she splintered and broke for him, as waves of pleasure washed through her, pulling her under.
When she came back to herself, he was still watching, balanced on one elbow, leaning over her. He was still fully dressed, and she wanted him naked.
“Take your clothes off,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.” As he got to his feet, he was already stripping off his shirt, baring a broad expanse of muscled chest, a lean belly that made her insides flutter. He kicked off his shoes as he unzipped his pants, pushing them down over his legs, and just like that, he was breathtakingly naked.
Her breath literally caught in her throat. He was already fully erect, his cock a vertical line, pale against his belly. Without taking her gaze from him, she pushed her own sweats and panties down, kicking them off. She wanted nothing between them this time.
He knelt with one knee on the mattress, then hesitated. “Shit, no condoms.”
She hadn’t even thought about it. But there was no risk. “It doesn’t matter. I’m on the pill now. And I’m healthy. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
“Me neither, not since my last medical. You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“Thank Christ.”
He moved quickly then, as if scared she would change her mind, but nothing was stopping this. As he came over her, she lifted her legs, wrapped them around his lean hips, and pulled him to her. His hand moved between their bodies, and a moment later he was filling her, stretching her. His eyes were closed, but as he settled himself as deep as he could go, his lashes flickered open, and she saw gold flecks in the darkness. He held her gaze as he withdrew, the friction on her already-sensitive skin driving her wild. Her muscles tightened around him, drawing him back.
“That is the best feeling in the world.” He pulled back again. “You ready?”
She gave a nod, and he pulled out and slammed back in. Her hips pushed up to meet the thrust, and then he was moving on her hard and fast, shoving all rational thought from her mind with his strokes. Her world was reduced to nothing but the feel of his big, hard body filling her, driving her wild, chasing the doubts and the fears from her head. Each inward stroke pressed against her clit, and her orgasm was building again. She could feel the tenseness in his muscles as she gripped his shoulders, her nails digging in, her head falling back.
She sensed the moment he lost control, the exact second the pleasure burst inside her a second time, and he was pumping into her, eyes tight, teeth clenched. Then his back arched, and he came inside her, still thrusting as though he couldn’t stop, each movement sending ripples of residual pleasure surging through her.
Finally, he collapsed on top of her and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of him while her heartbeat slowed and the sweat cooled on her skin.
She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to say what had to be said.
She was drifting off to sleep when she heard the whispered words.
“I love you.”
And she bolted upright.
Chapter Seventeen
She didn’t even look at him as she rolled off the bed.
Nik cursed silently. Why the hell had he spoiled everything and said that? She was running scared, and he guessed those words were only going to make her run faster.
She was so beautiful, slender and perfect. Her hair had come loose at some point during their lovemaking and hung in a pale curtain around her shoulders. She grabbed a robe from the chair by the bed, the same purple one she had seduced him in on that first night. Then she paced the room a couple of times, lower lip clenched in her small white teeth.
Nik pulled himself upright so he was leaning against the back of the bed and allowed her to pace. Once, she headed back to him, but then turned and paced some more. Finally, she took a deep breath and came and perched on the side of the mattress next to him.
She took another deep breath and then said, “I love you, too.”
The words were so unexpected that for a long time—well, it seemed like a long time—he just sat and stared at her. He waited for some emotion, euphoria maybe? Wasn’t that what people felt when they fell in love and were loved in return?
Unfortunately, Summer sounded far fr
om euphoric.
She sounded lost and sad and…
He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed her palm. “Just talk to me. Whatever it is, we can work it out.”
She shook her head. “No, we can’t.”
She sounded so certain that something shuddered inside him. “Tell me.” As he spoke, he got out of bed and pulled on his pants. He had a feeling he wanted his clothes on for this conversation. She looked so solemn.
She went to the wardrobe, turned away from him, pulled out some clean clothes, and dressed quickly in jeans and a T-shirt. Her wardrobe was almost empty and there was a suitcase on the floor beside it. He hadn’t noticed it when they’d come in—his mind, or maybe not his mind, but the rest of him—had been on other things. It made everything seem all the more real. She was leaving.
He followed her through into the kitchen, and she poured them both a coffee, then perched on a stool at the island. He sat opposite her, but put his coffee down. He didn’t feel like drinking.
“Tell me,” he said again.
She looped her hair behind her ears. “When I came out of prison, I thought I’d paid, that it was okay for me to go on with my life, a fresh start.” She gave a rueful smile. “And there you were, outside the prison, in your big black car. Perfect evidence that the past is always with you. You can’t erase the things you’ve done.”
“What have you done?”
“I stole.”
“How many?”
“One before you.”
“Trenton.” He shook his head. “I knew there was something between you two.”
“He was the first. He didn’t recognize me, but he knew me from somewhere, and any moment he’ll remember.”
“Why? Why did you steal?”
“Justice. Vengeance.”
“Because he was rich and you’re not?” His mind searched for an explanation. A justification. Because he wanted her to be good.
