The Fifth Kingdom

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “I’ll have to remember that,” he said, hoping they could share some lobster to celebrate a successful conclusion to their mission.

  The meal continued with easy talk, the earlier tension having evaporated.

  Sharing the dessert was slightly harder. A different kind of tension arose when they shifted to sit beside each other. They exchanged spoonfuls of the dulce de leche pudding topped with fresh whipped cream and something the menu had described as chocolate caviar. Whatever it was, it was sinfully tasty much like her presence beside him.

  After gathering up the plates and covering them back up, they sacked out on the couch in the living room area of the suite. Selected a movie from those available on demand and sat back. The comedy was funny, if not slightly bittersweet, but he enjoyed just sitting there, sharing the laughter and tender moments together. Imagining how different his life might be if this was the way every day could play out.

  When it came time for sleep, awkwardness arose again.

  “I’ll just sack out on the couch,” he said with a jerk of his thumb in its direction.

  Deanna rocked back and forth on her heels and then cocked her head at a questioning angle. “Do you really think you can get a good night’s sleep crammed onto that thing? Especially with your ribs still sore?”

  For good measure she laid one hand along his injured side. It was still tender, but her touch didn’t hurt, although it awakened all kinds of other feelings.

  “I’ll take the couch,” she said and her voice was husky, possibly hinting that he was not alone with what he was feeling.

  He met her gaze and detected the widening of her pupils. Noted the nervous way she licked her lips.

  “No way. You need your rest and the bed in there…” He pointed to the immense king-sized bed. “It’s like the state of Texas.”

  A nervous smile emerged and she slipped her hand from his side to graze along his arm. “Let’s get to bed, then.”

  She was already in her pajamas, so she slipped beneath the sheets and hugged one side the way a drowning person might a life preserver. He went to the opposite side and quickly changed, easing into sweats and a T-shirt as a way to armor himself against the temptation of having her skin beside his.

  As she had done, he climbed in and stuck close to the edge, but faced her. She was slightly more than an arm’s length away due to the size of the bed, but as his weight caused the mattress to dip a bit, she flipped around and inched just a little closer.

  The moonlight streaming in past the sheer curtains was bright, illuminating her face with silvery light. Creating shadows and hollows that made her beauty almost ethereal if not for the slight ridge of worry along her forehead.

  He reached out and ran his finger along that line to smooth away her concern. “It’ll be okay. Trust me.”

  “I do, but I’m worried about what it’ll be like to be face-to-face with my mother. It’s not something I ever imagined happening,” she confessed.

  “Not ever?” he asked, trailing his finger down the edge of her brow to skim along the line of her jaw.

  “Not ever. Do you ever imagine seeing your parents again?” she said, her tone soft and cautious.

  Long ago he had imagined it. A very long time ago because even if he tried, he couldn’t picture it in his mind. “I stopped thinking about it around the third or fourth foster home.”

  She shifted another inch closer and placed her hand over his as it rested just beneath her jaw. Followed the line of his arm up to offer a consoling pat against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I brought this up.”

  Bill shook his head. “It’s good that you did so you’re prepared when you see your mother again. Better that than a surprise.”

  She expelled a rough sigh, her frustration apparent. “No matter what it’ll be a surprise. I mean, I don’t know what she looks like anymore. How she’ll react when she sees me.”

  Bill stroked his thumb across her jaw. “I think she’ll be happy to see you when all is said and done.”

  But would she be happy to see Miranda? Deanna wondered and patted his shoulder once more, needing to touch him because there was something about his solidness that grounded her.

  “I hope so, Guillermo,” she said, but he stiffened beneath her hand.

  “Please don’t call me that,” he said as he had once before and then quickly explained why this time. “My mother used to call me that.”

  “And what did your father call you?” she blurted out before she could contain herself, regretting it immediately as his body became brittle as glass beneath her hand.

  “Little bastard. Ass wipe. I could go on—”

  “Please, don’t. I didn’t mean to reopen old wounds,” she said and shifted across the distance separating them. Wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, holding him tightly and little by little he relaxed. As he did so, he eased his arms around her and then whispered against her hair, “I’m not sorry. It made me the man I am today.”

  A good man, she thought. Strong and honorable. Steadfast.

  She knew that whatever promises he made he would keep, including bringing the mission to a successful close. But there was one other thing that still worried her.

  “Please don’t be a hero tomorrow, Bill. I want us all to get home safe and sound.”

  “I want that too,” he murmured and then bent his head, brushed his lips against hers, the kiss one of promise for the future.

  She accepted that promise, returning his kiss before nestling into his arms, aware that this night was meant to be about hope and understanding. Anything else could wait until they were home in one piece.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Deanna dreamed about Miranda that morning. She hadn’t dreamed about her mother in years. Not since she had given up hope of ever having her back.

  But now Miranda had returned. Standing in front of her in a white T-shirt, khakis and vest with pockets bulging with her assorted tools and her ever-present journal.

  Miranda’s mouth was open and her hands outstretched, as if she were begging. But her hands were covered in blood and before Deanna’s eyes, her mother fell forward and the large gaping bullet wound in her back became visible.

  Deanna knelt beside Miranda and rolled her over, but when she did so it was Bill lying there. Sightless eyes staring up at the sky and the front of his shirt drenched in blood. A long trail of blood seeping from beneath his body.

  Deanna bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding and chill sweat pooling in the small of her back.

  His gentle touch came quickly. He stroked his hand up and down along her side, attempting to soothe.

  “I’m okay. Just a bad dream,” she said and lay down again, snuggling close to his side, but tucking her arms tight to her chest to keep from embracing him, mindful of their discussion of the night before.

  Friends and nothing more to keep things balanced during their mission.

  She might have been able to honor that promise if he hadn’t turned and wrapped his arms around her. Dipped his head to kiss her forehead. “It’ll be okay, Deanna. I promise.”

  She shook her head and whispered, “I saw death, Bill. You. Miranda. Both of you dead.”

  Once again he stroked his hand along her side and kissed her temple before meeting her gaze.

  There was no uncertainty in his eyes about the mission. About them. So strong was his faith that it drove away the fear the dream had created. So pure was the emotion in his gaze that it caused her heart to skip a beat and demand more.

  She laid her hand on his cheek and his morning beard was rough on her palm. She inched up in bed until they were eye-to-eye and brushed her thumb along his lips. Moved toward him until she was so close that the spill of his breath warmed her skin.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, grasping her waist with his hand, but it was almost as if he was questioning himself at the same time.

  There were so many things about which she’d
been uncertain in her life, most of them having to do with her mother. And here was another thing connected to Miranda, but she had no doubts about him or the sincerity of his sentiments.

  She closed the final inch of distance and kissed him, filling the kiss with every scintilla of emotion from deep in her core. Wanting him to know just how much he had come to mean to her in the space of a few days.

  A rough shudder worked over him with the kiss and he tightened his hold on her, his body rock hard over the tenderness in his heart. His physical strength hiding the hurts of the young boy.

  Deanna wanted to acknowledge that pain. Drive it away with the love that had sprung up between them.

  She inched her hands beneath his T-shirt and yanked it away. Ran her hand across the immense width of his chest before shifting her head to kiss the stellar scar up on one shoulder. Moving downward to trail light kisses along the knife scar bisecting his torso while she smoothed her palm across his ribs and the scars there.

  She followed the line to the ribs, which still bore the purpling mark from the impact of the bullet. Felt his erection pressing upward along her midsection.

  Sitting up on her haunches, she trailed her fingers down below his navel and stripped away his pants, exposing the beauty of his lower body. So powerful and masculine that her body responded, her cleft growing wet and quivering in anticipation. But this morning was not about her. It was about him. Showing him how much she cared and treasured the man he was.

  With a half glance, she covered the head of his erection and he jumped beneath her hand. “You’re so beautiful,” she said, aware that he had rarely heard such praise in his life.

  He raised his hand and cupped her breast, strummed his thumb along the tight peak beneath the fabric. “You’re the one who’s beautiful. I want to see you.”

  She paused her caress only long enough to remove her pajamas, revealing herself to him. Then she returned to her ministrations, her caresses slow and tender as she stroked her hands over him. Pleasured him with her actions. She encircled him and reached down, massaged his balls, feeling them harden beneath her hand.

  He shifted restlessly and she took advantage of that to straddle him, bend over and kiss the tip of him.

  Bill groaned and reached up, cupped both her breasts, playing with the taut peaks as she took him into her mouth. Loved him with the dance of her tongue along the sensitive skin until he was shaking beneath her and the saltiness of his seed came against her lips.

  “I need you,” he said and tracked his hands down her sides to grasp her hips.

  She placed a last kiss at the tip of him and allowed him to guide her upwards, until she was poised above him.

  Her gaze was locked with his when she slowly lowered herself, taking him into her body. Allowing him into her heart as she bent and kissed him. Gave him all of herself, meeting his mouth over and over again until they were both trembling with need that had to be fulfilled.

  She sat back up, driving him ever deeper with the action. Then she began to move her hips, riding him. Reaching for her release and his.

  Bill fixed his gaze on her face, afraid that if he looked elsewhere, he’d come too quickly. She was so beautiful, so earnest as she moved on him. Her breath growing choppy as she shifted her hips, the wetness and friction of her movements caressing him.

  Cradling her breasts, he caressed the hard tips with his fingers, earning a soft mewl of satisfaction. Needing more, he braced one hand on the bed and sat up, took the tip of her breast into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

  She dug her hand into the short strands of his hair and held him close, her soft cries urging him onward as he loved her breasts. Along his length he sensed the rise of her need. Her body contracted around his, increasing the friction as she moved on him. Dragging him to the point of release, but he wanted her to go with him.

  Bill teethed the tip of her breast. She cried out and held his head closer. With another sharp bite and a long soothing lick, she arched her body as her climax washed over her.

  When she called out his name, he rose up and covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries. Pumping up into her one last time as her satisfaction pulled him over the edge to his own bliss.

  They continued kissing for long moments, arms wrapped around each other and bodies joined. Physical satisfaction giving way to comfort and something more.

  Love.

  He loved her. He didn’t know how it was possible. She had been prickly and demanding at first, although she had revealed another side to him. Intelligent and caring. Impulsive, but steady. She was everything he’d never had and for the first time in his life, he was actually scared before a mission. Afraid because for the first time in his life, he had something to lose.

  She must have sensed that in him for she finally moved, soothing her hands along his shoulders. Along the old wounds that no longer mattered. They were part of his past and she was the future.

  Using his greater strength, he moved them until they were lying side by side, still joined. Still wrapped together.

  Even though it was still dark outside, it would soon be time to get going. The courier from the embassy would be by in the early morning hours. Lopez was picking them up at nine.

  But until then, he intended to savor the comfort of her arms and the promise they held for what was yet to come.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The chill of the night had stiffened her body, making every joint ache as she roused at the noise in the hall outside. There were lots of voices and the tromping of boots back and forth along the corridor. More activity than she had heard in a very long time.

  Something was clearly up and she wondered what.

  Shuffling to the door, she listened, trying to determine what was going on, but all she heard was the movement of people and the occasional clatter of metal on metal.

  Weaponry? she guessed, growing more worried as the sounds continued for some time, hinting at the fact that something major was happening. The one thing that was giving her comfort was that for the moment, she was not involved.

  That relief evaporated, however, as she heard someone say her name and booted men loudly approached her door.

  She stepped back, preparing for what they intended to do. Wrapping her arms around herself defensively, she tucked her body in the corner into as tight a ball as she could. Imagining that she could somehow grow so small as to disappear.

  The door flung open and Javier strode in, flanked by two men once again. A sinister smile lit up his face, sending a shiver through her at his vicious glee.

  “What do you want?” she asked, raising her chin at a defiant angle to try and disguise her fear.

  “Actually, today is all about what you want, Miranda,” he said and approached. When he stood close, he squatted beside her and cupped her chin, urging her gaze up to meet his. His eyes shined with fanatical light.

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean?” she said, concerned about what had the Primera Mexica cell leader so excited.

  Javier released her, rose and stepped back beside his men. Standing there arms akimbo, he said, “Today is the day you’re being reunited with your daughter.”

  “No, that’s not possible,” she cried, her gut clenching and her blood running cold at his words.

  Javier tossed his head back and laughed. “Totally possible, Miranda. And you know what’s even better?”

  She didn’t need him to tell her. She knew in her gut that the worst was about to happen. Deanna was going to guide them to the tomb and once she did that, they were both as good as dead.

  She didn’t fight when Javier instructed his men to prepare her. She allowed them to push her around and didn’t fight as they gagged her and slipped a blindfold over her eyes.

  It would just be a waste of energy and she needed to conserve all that she had for the fight which would come later. Whatever it took, she would make sure that Deanna would survive whatever Javier had planned.

  Deanna sat beside Bill in the lobb
y, holding his hand as they waited for Lopez to arrive. The courier had come and gone that morning and the embassy attaché had confirmed receipt of their prized possessions. A bit of relief, she thought as they sat there, anxiously awaiting the PM operative.

  Bill tapped their joined hands on their thighs. “Don’t be so nervous. Things will be okay.”

  She smiled and tucked close to him, wrapped her free hand around their joined ones. “I am so nervous. What will I say to her after all these years?”

  Chuckling, he placed a kiss on her cheek and whispered lovingly, “How about ‘Hello, mom’?”

  A burst of nervous laughter escaped her. “That simple?”

  He grinned and passed the back of his hand across her cheek. “I know it’s not so simple, mi amor. I can’t imagine it myself, but remember…I’ll be there for you.”

  “I know,” she said and kissed him, not wanting to waste any opportunity to show him how much she cared.

  An awkward cough interrupted the moment, but Bill took his time moving away from her to acknowledge Lopez’s arrival. His apology, when it came, was halfhearted. “So sorry, Dr. Lopez. It’s just that it’s almost like a honeymoon.”

  “I can understand, Bill,” Lopez replied and Deanna didn’t much care for the way he eyeballed her. It was way too close to a leer.

  Popping off the low-slung sofa, she grabbed the strap of her leather knapsack and held her hand out to Bill. “Ready, love?”

  He took hold of her hand and pushed off the couch, grabbed his own knapsack and tucked the strap over his shoulder. “Definitely ready to meet my future mother-in-law.”

  “You are a brave man, Bill. Few men I know look forward to their mothers-in-law,” Lopez said with laugh and held his hand out in the direction of the front door to the lobby. “The guide is waiting for us outside in his van.”

  Bill nodded and eased his arm around her waist, the gesture so natural it didn’t seem to raise any alarms with Lopez, which at least gave Deanna some hope. Bill was worried that leaks were possible at the embassy, although there was no concrete evidence of it. So far Lopez didn’t seem to doubt their loving relationship, maybe because it was no longer an act.