Cellar Door

by Suzanne Steele

  She touches my arm gently, and I’m not sure how to respond. Agent Murphy doesn’t strike me as the type to braid hair and indulge in girl talk. I eye her intently, curious to know what she’s about to say.

  “I can tell you from experience, there will be times when you’re tempted to try and figure out why all this happened, to try to make some sense of it. You’re probably going to wonder if there’s something you could have done to avoid it all. When those times come, remember what I’m telling you: There is no rhyme or reason to crazy. The man who died tonight was a serial killer. Men like that don’t need anyone else to understand their brand of crazy—it only needs to make sense to them.”

  I have no way of knowing that her words will continue to resonate within me for years to come.

  “Thank you. I know you shot him because he had turned his gun on you, but you saved our lives when you did it. I have no doubt he would have killed us. But how did you know he was here?”

  “After he placed the call to Lance, Lance immediately told the guard. The guard got word to us that you were being held against your will in a home invasion perpetrated by Greg Holmes.”

  “So you’re telling me that Lance saved our lives?” I ask incredulously.

  “Essentially, yes.”

  I swear the room tilts a little as I absorb that fact. The same man who set out to frame Liam for murder and orchestrate my own demise, inexplicably had a change of heart and saved our lives.

  Maybe Agent Murphy’s right; maybe crazy only needs to make sense to the mind it resides in. If beauty can be in the eye of the beholder, then crazy surely has a mind of its own.

  Chapter Sixty

  Liam

  With Agent Turner managing the processing of the crime scene – also known as my damn house – and, hopefully, the cleanup, I decide to take Madonna to The Brown. It’s the best hotel in Louisville, where we can count on privacy and some serious pampering for as long as we like.

  Now that all the questions have been asked by the authorities and answered by us -- for the time being anyway -- we need some time alone. Time to reflect and savor what is surely a new beginning for us and not the end. Madonna’s grace under pressure tonight proved that she no longer needs to be saved by me or anyone else.

  We haven’t left bed all day, lazy skin-to-skin contact serving as our preferred form of distraction from the events of the last 24 hours. In fact, we’ve barely uttered a word since we checked in just before dawn. I raise up on an elbow and look intently into her eyes. Yes, today has been a day of few words, but there are things that need to be said.

  “I need you with me, Madonna -- but not because I’m making you stay, and not because I’m holding you captive, not even because you need a savior. I need to know this is simply where you want to be.” I take her face in my hands, my voice barely audible, my soul filled with dread.

  “I release you. You can go home.”

  Her eyes widen almost comically. Her mouth opens and closes abruptly, as if she wants to speak but changes her mind, instead choosing to scowl up at me.

  I smirk and arch a brow as I declare, “But I’ll never let you go.”

  “You mean you’ll keep stalking me?”

  “Absolutely. And I’ll enjoy doing it.”

  “And what if I want to stay?”

  A wave of relief washes over me. She wants to be with me, not because she has to but because she wants to.

  My only response is to push the waistband of my jogging pants down and slide her panties gently down her legs. I hook her knee over my arm and spread her open as I settle between her legs. This time when I push into her, it’s not force or dominance but a gentle joining of two souls that have been through the fires of hell together and come out on the other side, forged together as one.

  I bury my face in her hair as I move inside her, my lips grazing her ear. “I’m never going to be normal, baby. The darkness is part of who I am, and the depraved urges that go along with it. Can you live with that?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now shut up and fuck me.”

  “Just this once, I have no problem submitting to what you want.”

  I brush her hair from her face and study her features. I never could have guessed she’d be as strong as she is. My breathing is labored as I remind her, “I still owe you a spanking.”

  “For what?” she groans as I roll my pubic bone against her clit, priming her for the orgasm I can already feel bearing down on her.

  “For going to see my brother alone.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to introduce me to those gorgeous chains you keep telling me about.”

  “Baby, nothing would please me more.”

  Her body clenches around my cock and I know she’s right there with me, seconds away from a searing release. I’ll never get tired of seeing the expression on her face when pleasure overtakes her. My hips surge forward, thrusting feverishly as I follow her over.

  This is the closest I’ll ever come to any kind of normal, but who the fuck cares? I wasn’t looking for normal anyway.

  Epilogue

  I step inside the place that has become familiar to both of us now. No longer do I visit my brother alone; Madonna and I have become regulars here. As if reading my thoughts, she looks up at me with those twinkling, cobalt blue eyes that drew me in the first time I saw her.

  “It’s okay. I know you never counted on him bonding with me.”

  “He doesn’t bond, Madonna,” I say, shaking my head.

  “In his own way, he does.”

  “You’d be wise not to underestimate him.”

  “I’m not, I’m not. But you have to admit, my writing is better because of him.”

  “Your writing is better because you walked through fire and made it out alive.”

  After opening the lobby door for her, I place my palm on her lower back to guide her toward the registration desk. I do a double-take when the receptionist actually smiles at us. Normally she just eyes us while she continues typing – weird. After this many months, I guess she no longer sees us as a threat—if only she knew…

  “Good afternoon, Karen,” Madonna says warmly.

  Karen’s fingers never stop flying across the keyboard as she looks up at us and replies, “Always good to see the two of you and I know your brother enjoys the visits.”

  “It’s always good to see you, too, especially when that beautiful smile lights up your face.”

  “You’re such a flirt, doctor,” she says as she shakes her head. “Now, off with you both. You know where he is.”

  We follow a guard down the hall and as usual, I take a deep breath before I enter the room where my twin brother is waiting. My brother is still not an easy man to deal with. Fucking with me remains his favorite pastime. The love/hate relationship we’ve cultivated in recent years continues on unabated.

  For the first time, I sit down at the metal table rather than leaning against the wall. Brother or not, I’m aware of how dangerous the man seated across the table can be. Looking at him really is like looking in a mirror, in more ways than one.

  “Well, well, if it’s not my two favorite people in the world,” he purrs seductively as he eyes my woman.

  “Hmm, how long will that sentiment last, Lance?” My voice drips with sarcasm. We both know he only expresses how he feels when it’s in his best interests. Nothing is ever as it seems with my brother.

  He ignores me and directs his attention toward Madonna. He flips the hard bound copy of her latest book open and, clearing his throat dramatically, with a sly, sidelong look in my direction, reads the dedication aloud:

  “For Lance. You saved my life and made me a better writer for all the readers I adore. May you always be the free bird I’ve come to know...

  “I’m flattered. I never anticipated becoming a true celebrity. To have my name in a New York Times bestselling book. Well, let’s just say I’m humbled.”

  You’re never humbled, you snake in the grass. Though I don’t s
ay a word, I narrow my eyes at him to remind him that I know he’s full of shit.

  Madonna chuckles good-naturedly, “So what are you saying? I’ve made you famous?”

  “Absolutely. I made myself a household name all by myself, but you’ve definitely given me the cool factor around here. The other patients are impressed and maybe even a little jealous that I have a book dedicated to me.”

  “Well, I meant every word.”

  “Do you?” he asks benignly and Madonna nods in reply. I flinch as he leans in toward her with the glint in his eyes that always means he’s up to something, the little fucker.

  “Well,” he whispers conspiratorially at her, “how would you like to have a silent partner?”

  I can’t hide the irritation in my growl. “What the fuck are you talking about, Lance?”

  “Well, I have so many stories to tell, you see. Some of them are real, some just take place in my head. In here,” he says excitedly as he taps his fingertip against his temple.

  “Damn it, Lance,” I growl. “Are you ever going to lose your need to kill? What, if you can’t do it, you want to fantasize about it?”

  He raises his palms in mock surrender, causing his chains to make a jarring, clanking noise.

  “Down, killah…I intend to let your lady tell my stories. What do you think, sweetheart?” he asks cockily.

  “Lance, you know I stopped ghostwriting back before…everything happened. I’m sorry…” she says softly.

  “No, no, no,” he admonishes her, “this will be all you. Consider me a consultant of sorts. I’ll spin tales, which may or may not be true – that’s the fun part – and you do whatever you want with them. I promise you, you’ll have more bestsellers than you’ll know what to do with. I have my own fans you know. They know all about my…skills, but with me locked up in here, I can’t very well expand my repertoire. This is the perfect way to sate their curiosity but keep them interested. And you will write the books and reap the rewards.”

  “Oh, I’d want to split royalties with you, Lance.”

  “Please, what am I going to do with money? Buy a lifetime supply of gum in the commissary? No, I just want…” he trails off, frowning.

  “…to stay relevant?” Madonna finishes for him.

  “Yes, exactly. So…are you interested?”

  Her face becomes practically luminous, a sure sign that he’s piqued her interest. Well, shit.

  “Lance, you’re such a tease. How could I ever resist you?”

  A slow smile spreads over his face at the innocent question. He shoots me a smug glance, then gives her his undivided attention as he drawls, “But you see, that’s the beauty of it. You can’t.”

  For more of Liam and Lance’s story check out Urban Renewal available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Urban-Renewal-Elite-Book-ebook/dp/B01BXB9LEK