Death Is Not Enough

by Karen Rose

  ‘Thank you. Can I reach you at this number? The one you called me from?’

  ‘For now, yes. It’s a temporary line. You can also reach me through Agent Carter.’

  ‘Thank you for calling. I hope you work through all this soon.’

  ‘So do I.’

  Twenty-five

  Hunt Valley, Maryland,

  Wednesday 15 June, 10.35 P.M.

  Thorne checked his phone for the thirtieth time in fifteen minutes. Gwyn hadn’t come back from her water-getting expedition and she should have. He’d gotten up to go find her several times, but forced himself to sit. She’d needed space. He’d give her space.

  But he was worried. They were in a locked house with better security than Fort Knox, and she hadn’t been out of his sight long enough to take a really long shower. But he was losing his mind. Was that what they were going to be reduced to? Traveling in groups? Sleeping in the same house? Sequestering the moms and children hundreds of miles away?

  Yeah. Apparently they were. Nobody can sustain this. Tavilla knows this. His son went to prison and he’s put us in prison.

  Had the tables been turned, it would have been poetic justice. But this was hell.

  So stop whining and make him stop. But first, find her. Ease your mind.

  Clay’s downstairs was eerily quiet, the toys in the playroom stacked and abandoned. ‘Gwyn?’ he called, but there was no answer. He jogged up the stairs and stopped short. She was sitting at the kitchen table with Clay and Jamie, the latter stroking her hair as she hugged her enormous dog and cried into his neck. Tweety actually looked sad. Both Clay and Jamie wore expressions of pity.

  Thorne’s heart threatened to break all over again.

  Clay pointed to a stack of T-shirts and jeans. ‘I found some of Stevie’s pre-baby clothes. They’re more likely to fit Gwyn now.’ He winced. ‘Don’t tell her I said “pre-baby”. She’ll hurt me.’

  Gwyn choked on a laugh that sounded more like a sob. ‘Yeah, she will,’ she said, but didn’t lift her head.

  Jamie shot Thorne a helpless look. ‘I think it just hit her that she’s lost about everything in her apartment.’

  No, that wasn’t it. She wasn’t crying over the loss of her things. But Thorne wasn’t going to tell them the truth. Aidan – having him, losing him, being afraid for his safety, mourning that he’d turned eighteen and hadn’t contacted her . . . All that was Gwyn’s story to tell, if and when she decided to do so.

  ‘Hey,’ he murmured, crouching down beside her and pushing the dog away when a wet tongue came out to lick his face. ‘You’re exhausted. Let’s get some sleep. All of us. We have work to do tomorrow. Tavilla has had us on the run. Now it’s time to make him run.’

  ‘Straight to fucking hell,’ Clay muttered.

  ‘I’d drink to that,’ Jamie said grimly.

  ‘How?’ Gwyn asked, her face still hidden in Tweety’s fur.

  ‘By attacking the people he cares about. We know of two women – our office manager and our bartender. They were in that photo from last summer, taken at that Italian restaurant, Bruno’s.’

  ‘Where he still hangs out,’ Jamie said.

  Thorne nodded. ‘I imagine the police have the place under surveillance. We know he has offices. Anne was a really good office manager.’

  Gwyn snorted her derision. ‘Bullshit.’

  Jamie smiled. ‘She’s an evil bitch from hell, but I’m going to agree with Thorne on this one. That woman had an amazing filing system, and she never missed a birthday. Maybe she does office management for Tavilla too.’

  Gwyn lifted her head. Her face was tear-streaked, but she was still the most beautiful woman Thorne had ever seen. ‘You could have something there.’

  ‘There was a child in Laura’s social media,’ Thorne went on. ‘Or Bianca or Kathryn or whoever she is. It may not have been hers, but it belonged to someone. Babies get colds, get shots, need pediatricians. We start there and see where it takes us. The point is, we have options. Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll plan tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay.’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, then grabbed the stack of clothing. ‘Thanks for the clothes, Clay. And I won’t tell Stevie what you said, because your son would be in kindergarten before you got laid again.’

  Clay made a face. ‘Thank you.’

  She smiled at him. ‘You’re welcome. Come on, Tweety.’ She waited until they were back in the guest room before turning to Thorne. ‘Did you reach them?’

  ‘I did. His father thanked me for the warning, and said he would keep him safe.’

  She hesitated. ‘They’ve told him, haven’t they? They told him and he doesn’t want to meet me.’

  ‘Give the kid some time,’ Thorne said, dodging the actual answer. ‘Come here.’ He led her to the bed and began unbuttoning her blouse. ‘I’m going to put you to bed and give you a massage, and you’re going to sleep.’

  Hunt Valley, Maryland,

  Thursday 16 June, 1.10 A.M.

  Gwyn woke in a strange bed, but she wasn’t afraid because she knew before she’d opened her eyes that she was with Thorne. He held her half sprawled over his body like he was an oversized pillow. Her head rested on his chest, his arm was around her shoulders, his hand firmly gripping her butt. One of her legs was lodged between his powerful thighs, and when she tried to move, he rumbled out a warning.

  ‘Watch the knee, babe.’

  Because she was only inches away from his groin. And his very erect cock. She slid one hand down until she could grab it. His rumble became a moan.

  Tipping back her head, she kissed the underside of his jaw and wondered how long she’d been asleep. ‘Did you sleep?’

  ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘Just holding you.’

  She rolled her shoulders experimentally, feeling no pain. ‘That was some massage.’

  ‘That was the plan,’ he said. ‘To make you feel better.’

  She’d fallen asleep minutes into it, so there had been no mutual pleasuring. No satisfaction.

  That was going to change. ‘You know what I really liked?’

  ‘The part where you melted into the mattress when I rubbed your shoulders?’

  ‘Of course that. But I was thinking about Tuesday. In my bed.’

  ‘Mmm.’ He played with her hair. ‘Which time?’

  ‘All of them. But mostly when I was on my back and I could see your face the whole time.’ She could hear his heart starting to beat a little faster. ‘I was hoping we could do that again. Maybe soon? Like now?’

  The next thing she knew, she was on her back and he was sliding down her body, lifting her legs over his shoulders, licking into her. She moaned quietly, not because she worried about anyone hearing her, but because the moment seemed too important, too sacred, for loud shouts and grunts and pleas for more.

  ‘Thorne,’ she whispered.

  He lifted his head. ‘What do you need?’ he whispered back. ‘Name it.’

  She brushed his hair with her fingertips. ‘Just you. Only you.’

  He kissed the inside of her thigh, a soft brush of his lips. Then he was licking again, so gently, a luxurious lapping that stirred her, but not to a frenzy. Not yet.

  She stretched like a cat, gripping the brass bars of the headboard, crying out when he worked two big fingers into her.

  ‘All right?’ he murmured.

  She undulated her hips, grinding down on his fingers. ‘Yes. Feels good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.’

  ‘I won’t,’ he promised, a smile in his voice, then went back down on her, sucking her clit as he worked in a third finger.

  She wasn’t feeling calm and quiet any more. The need to come was spiraling upward, and she arched, needing to move. ‘Thorne, now. Please. I’m ready.’

  He paused to look at her, and she could see his amusement in the dim light. ‘I’m no
t,’ he said. ‘You’re impatient.’

  ‘Damn right.’ She swiveled her hips, trying to entice him, and he groaned.

  ‘Impatient and mean,’ he said.

  ‘Impatient and impatient,’ she corrected, wriggling against his fingers. ‘I’m five seconds from doing this myself.’

  Chuckling, he took a final lick, then pulled his fingers free and crawled up her body, his huge muscles rolling, his body sleek and graceful. She widened her legs to give him room. He planted his fists on either side of her head and rubbed up against her sensitized flesh.

  ‘Thorne,’ she moaned. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Shh,’ he murmured. ‘Let me.’

  She opened her eyes and met his, and her heart stuttered. There was the look, the one she’d wanted to fall into and never leave. ‘Yes.’

  He hummed deep in his throat. ‘Yes what?’

  She smiled at him, letting go of the bars to brush her fingers over his cheeks. ‘Whatever you want.’

  He shuddered, hard. ‘I want it all. All of you.’ Canting his hips, he positioned himself and slid inside, and she cried out, filled again.

  She’d never felt this full, not with anyone else. Not just her body, but her heart. Her soul, connected to his. And it was glorious. Her eyes abruptly stung and she blinked hard, feeling the tears slide down her face and into her hair.

  Immediately he froze. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No.’ She cupped his face. ‘No. It’s . . . perfect. You’re perfect.’

  He shuddered again. ‘So tight. God. Not gonna last long.’ He surged into her harder, picking up the pace, his eyes never leaving hers.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, lifting into him, meeting each thrust. Her orgasm built and built until suddenly it was there, crashing over her like a wave on the shore, stealing her breath, leaving her shaking and gasping his name.

  He held himself perfectly still as she spasmed around him, then groaned, deep and guttural, as his own body whiplashed, his thrusts growing frantic and uncontrolled.

  She could only watch, exhausted. Mesmerized. He’s beautiful.

  He threw his head back, arching until his body stretched taut above hers, like a powerful god rising from the sea. And she could feel him lose himself, feel him throbbing inside her, feel the heat of his come as it filled her as surely as he had.

  He collapsed then, his trembling arms giving out. He caught himself, bracing his forearms on the mattress as violent shudders shook his body.

  ‘Oh God,’ he panted. He dropped his head, his hair tickling her cheek. ‘Gwyn.’

  She lifted a tired hand to stroke his hair. ‘Thank you.’

  He huffed a laugh. ‘I think I’m supposed to thank you.’

  She trailed her fingers down his face to the back of his neck, now hot and sweaty. And still perfect. ‘Not just for the sex.’ Her lips curved. ‘Although that was amazing. Thank you for giving me back myself. I was so afraid for so long that I’d never be able to be like this again. And I couldn’t have been with anyone but you.’

  He kissed her then, so sweetly and full of joy. ‘I love you.’

  Her sigh was simple contentment. ‘I love you too.’

  With a little groan, he slid out and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She let herself be arranged how he wanted her, which was exactly how she’d woken up, sprawled across his chest, one of his big hands on her butt. Her ear to his heart.

  This was peace. And she’d take it for as long as she could. Which would be until morning, if they were lucky.

  Hunt Valley, Maryland,

  Thursday 16 June, 8.30 A.M.

  Peace lasted until midway through breakfast. Seated at Clay’s kitchen table and practically swimming in Stevie’s too-big ‘pre-baby’ clothes, Gwyn was starting her second cup of coffee and tabbing through the news coverage online.

  ‘Well?’ Jamie asked, pointing to her laptop.

  She shrugged. ‘It’s a mixed bag, although it looks like public opinion is starting to swing our way. Tavilla himself hasn’t been named as a suspect, probably because Joseph and Hyatt want all their ducks in a row first.’

  ‘They need to fucking hurry up,’ Frederick grumbled.

  Thorne came in from the study, a frustrated frown on his face, and Gwyn patted the empty chair next to her. ‘Colton Brandenberg still isn’t answering?’

  ‘No.’ He slumped into the chair. ‘Neither is Nystrom or Christina Brandenberg. Thanks,’ he added when Frederick filled his coffee cup. ‘JD’s on the phone with Hyatt. They’re going to be circulating the photo of the baby in Laura’s Facebook photos to area pediatricians. They’re positioning it as a possible child endangerment case because she’s implicated in the murder of two Circus Freaks members. They recognized her as one of Tavilla’s operatives who’d tried to infiltrate their gang, and then they were dead. It’s a circumstantial link at best, but enough for BPD to try to find her through the baby.’

  Gwyn blinked in surprise. ‘Alistair will verify that she tried to infiltrate the Freaks?’

  Thorne snorted. ‘Hell, no. But Prew did, at least that the murdered men knew her. Remember, he followed them after Ming and Mowry tossed them out of the club Sunday night. Prew remembered them talking about the bartender, and when they called their boss, they asked if they should bring her in. Hyatt’s not thrilled with approaching this as a child endangerment, but it sounds like he’s cooperating at least.’

  ‘Too little, too late,’ Gwyn muttered. ‘Would have helped if he’d told us about the EMT’s murder himself. Makes me wonder what other secrets he’s keeping.’

  ‘A few,’ a new voice said, and they all looked up to see Joseph Carter coming through the kitchen doorway, Clay right behind him. Joseph looked disgruntled, but Clay seemed a little smug.

  ‘Joseph,’ Thorne said with a nod. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I came to get you,’ he said, then gave Clay a sour look. ‘You didn’t have to search my briefcase.’

  ‘I had Alec scan Joseph and his briefcase for listening devices,’ Clay said, a twinkle in his eyes. He and Joseph were close, but they seemed to take great delight in needling one another. ‘Anything that comes in or out gets scanned. No exceptions.’

  Joseph rolled his eyes. ‘Jesus,’ he muttered. ‘Can I at least have some coffee?’

  Thorne gave it to him, stone-faced. ‘What other secrets?’

  Joseph sat down and took a big gulp, wincing because it was hot. ‘Nystrom is dead. You can stop calling him.’

  Thorne flinched, then closed his eyes. ‘Fuck. How?’

  ‘Quite painfully, I’d imagine.’ Joseph shook his head. ‘One of those things that I wish I could unsee.’ He tilted his head. ‘How many medals did you have in high school, anyway?’

  Thorne gave him a look of bewildered irritation. ‘What?’ Then his shoulders sagged. ‘He had one of my medals in him?’

  ‘Yep. And not much else.’ Joseph took another gulp of coffee, grimacing. ‘Let’s just say that I have not had a pleasant morning, and leave it at that.’

  ‘Where was he found?’ Clay asked.

  ‘In his house. He wasn’t killed there, though. His cell phone records show that he called Hyatt last night. It was his last outgoing call.’

  ‘JD gave him Hyatt’s card,’ Thorne said. ‘Told him to call if he needed help. I gave him my card, but he ripped it up.’

  ‘He waited too long to call Hyatt,’ Joseph said. ‘But you were good to try to help him, Thorne.’

  ‘Not entirely altruistic on my part,’ Thorne admitted. ‘I was sure he knew about that fucking key ring.’ He squeezed Gwyn’s hand when she took his. ‘I’ve been trying to reach Christina Brandenberg too. God, I hope she’s not dead. She’s the sister of Colton, who was the third of Richard’s posse back then. He’s a doctor now, apparently. At least he tried to do some good. She’s protecti
ng him.’

  ‘I know,’ Joseph said calmly, sipping from his cup. ‘That’s why I’m here. I got a message through the switchboard this morning from a Dr Colt. He and his sister are on their way to see me.’

  Gwyn’s mouth fell open. ‘You could have led with that.’

  Joseph narrowed his eyes. ‘I got another call this morning. From a Mr York.’

  Gwyn felt the blood drain from her head. ‘What?’

  Thorne winced. ‘I told him to call Joseph for verification. I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you.’

  Because he’d given her an amazing massage, then more amazing sex. She patted his hand. ‘It’s okay. What did he say?’

  ‘He wanted to know if Thorne’s story was true,’ Joseph answered. ‘I verified it. Next time, a heads-up would be nice.’ Then his narrowed eyes softened. ‘You should have told me, Gwyn. I would have given them protection.’

  Gwyn’s face heated as Clay, Jamie and Frederick stared at her. She dropped her gaze to her cup. ‘I had a baby. Gave him up for adoption. Records of him were in my fire safe.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jamie said softly. ‘That’s why you were crying last night. Oh, honey.’ He wheeled his chair over and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I would have said different things.’

  ‘I know you would have, but thanks.’ She leaned into him for a moment, wishing he’d been her dad too. She returned her attention to Joseph. ‘Is Aidan okay?’

  Joseph frowned, and Gwyn’s breath started to come in pants. Beside her, Thorne stiffened. ‘No,’ she said, hearing her own hysteria.

  Joseph sighed. ‘We don’t know that anything’s wrong. He’s just not at home. His father was frantic when he called. The young man’s friends say they had a party last night and that Aidan left with a girl. The girl says he left her house just before dawn and was going home.’

  ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God.’ Gwyn clamped her hand over her mouth and turned into Thorne’s arms, which tightened around her.