All I Need

by Christa Conan

  She didn’t resist. Didn’t respond. She remained stock-still, shell-shocked.

  Rhone stroked her hair. “You’re safe,” he said in soft tones, hoping to convince himself as much as her. “You’re safe. I’ll never let him get to you again.”

  “Hold me, Rhone.”

  “I am, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  “Tighter.”

  He complied, closing off all regard for the cold creeping in around him. Shut off everything but the fact his wife needed him.

  “Don’t let me go.”

  “Never,” he vowed. Rhone realized after Nicky was safe, Shannen might not want anything to do with Rhone again. But for now she needed him, as much as he needed her. “I thought I’d lost you, Shannen.”

  “I shouldn’t have...should have told...” A sob tore from her.

  “Shh,” he soothed. “You did what you thought was right.”

  “But he could have...”

  “But he didn’t,” Rhone supplied quietly. He expected to feel the dampness of her tears through the fabric of his clothes. When he didn’t, he winced.

  Except for the evidence of a single tear, she hadn’t cried. He wished she would, knew the cleansing would help. Caressing her back, he softly said, “I need to get you home.”

  “Not without my baby.”

  The words were flat. Hollow.

  If someone had taken a knife and systematically cut his heart into tiny ribbons, it couldn’t have hurt this bad. “We’ll get Nicky.”

  “What if Norton tied up my baby, too?”

  Rhone had been imprisoned in a hellhole the size of a coffin, been brutally beaten and learned to operate as an automaton when events dictated, but nothing in his experience left him prepared to deal with this kind of emotional devastation.

  “What if Nicky is crying for me right now?”

  Powerless to answer, Rhone pressed a hand against her nape, resting her head on his shoulder. She still shivered, and he heard her teeth begin to chatter.

  Common sense insisted he get her warm and safe, but that meant releasing her, even if it was only for a few seconds. Right now, he wasn’t strong enough to do that. So he held her, offered soothing words and vows.

  Two cracks split the night. High-powered rifles.

  Shannen shuddered.

  Rhone said nothing, praying that Norton now lay dead at Doug’s feet. Rhone hoped the death didn’t come quickly. Or mercifully.

  A few minutes later a snapped twig arrested his attention.

  He simultaneously released his hold on Shannen, moved to shield her and reached for his 9 mm. With his left hand he grabbed the flashlight and aimed the beam into the forested darkness.

  “At ease.”

  Rhone let out his breath between closed teeth and slid his gun back into its leather holster. Doug shook his head and Rhone’s facial features froze in a frown. Doug’s eyes contained a murderous gleam.

  “He had a white pickup this time. Got the license number.”

  “Stolen?”

  “Yeah. Got an APB out on it. Put a slug in the back, another in a tire.”

  Rhone nodded tightly.

  “Shannen?” Doug’s voice was hardly above a whisper.

  “Needs to get home.”

  “Want help?”

  “No. Thanks.”

  “I’ll cover your back nevertheless.”

  Turning to his wife, Rhone appealed to her nurturing instinct, hoping she’d respond for the sake of others, if not herself. “When you feel up to it, we need any information you can give us,” Rhone said. He grimaced at that thought. Part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to hear, now or later, exactly what had transpired.

  She shook her head.

  Rhone gently placed his index finger beneath her chin, held her so he could look into her eyes. They were lifeless. Empty. “Nicky needs you to do everything possible to help save him. You know that, right?”

  She nodded weakly.

  “Norton’s gone from the forest. We’ll need you at the house in case he tries to make contact again. Obviously he’d rather talk to you than me.” Letting go of her chin, Rhone took her shoulders in his grip. “Shannen, we need your help.”

  “I...”

  He waited.

  “Feel ill.”

  Which meant, at least physically, she was starting to function beyond the shocked numbness. Instantly he moved behind her, holding her hair out of the way. Rhone noted that Doug blended with the trees, giving them total privacy.

  A minute or so later, Rhone grabbed a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her.

  She gave a groan of disgust. “I can still feel him touching me, breathing on me.”

  Wondering, hoping that the dam of emotions had also been freed, Rhone prayed for the strength and wisdom to help her cope. “I know,” he reassured her.

  “He taunted and threatened. Then laughed. He wouldn’t tell me anything about Nicholas except that he’s safe. For now, he said.” She spoke in a monotone, barely above a whisper.

  Her gaze darted around. “You’re certain he’s gone?”

  “You’re safe now, Shannen.”

  Rhone felt the shudder that quaked through her body. “Did he say anything to you that might help us find him faster?” He hated asking, hated making her dwell on the incident, but had to. “Give you any clue as to where he’s holding Nicky?”

  “No. Nothing.” He heard her dejection.

  His eyes closed on the impotent anger that welled within him, seeking an outlet. He knew Norton enjoyed flaunting the power he wielded in Rhone’s face, enjoyed making him sweat. And at the moment there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  “Let’s go home.” Rhone pressed Shannen’s head against his chest, dropping a kiss onto the honeyed mass of curls.

  Quietly, unobtrusively, Doug returned, signaling he and the others would be right behind them.

  Rhone stood, handed Doug the recorder, then helped Shannen to her feet, seeing how badly her knees shook. He placed an arm around her back, supporting nearly her entire weight as they moved toward her house.

  On their return, Brian’s face showed his concern and Rhone gave a brief shake of his head. Doug motioned Brian into the kitchen and, at the bottom of the stairs, Rhone swept his wife’s limp body into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, closing the door with the sole of his boot.

  “I want to be clean. I’ve got to get rid of—”

  Rhone nodded, understanding, and continued into the master bath. Bending down, he flipped the light switch with his shoulder before sliding her down his body.

  She wavered. Rhone kept a steady hand around her shoulder even as he turned on the knobs, spilling steaming water from the faucets.

  She gave a convulsive shiver. “I’m so cold.”

  He knew closing the bathroom door would have contained the steam, adding warmth. He hesitated, but only for a second, then reached out to swing it shut.

  Immediately, the fleeting image that came to mind of the enclosed narrow space was enough to double his heart rate and breathing. Damn. He couldn’t do it and be the calming force Shannen needed right now. He sent her an apologetic glance that failed to register.

  He cursed under his breath. More than anything, he wished he could take away the internal suffering that had extinguished the light in her expression.

  “Stay with me,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t leave if you told me to.”

  Shannen’s gaze focused on her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes widened in shock as though she saw someone she no longer recognized. A stranger. Unblinking, she began trying to finger-comb through the knots in her hair, her actions slow and jerky.

  Rhone felt her slipping away again and tried to step in front of her, but suddenly she pushed him aside, grabbing for her toothbrush and mouthwash.

  Feeling helpless, he adjusted the water temperature, then crossed back to her when she started scrubbing at her face with a soapy washcloth.

  As he m
ight have done in the past, he took a brush from the counter and began to ease the tangles from her hair.

  “How can you stand to look at me?”

  Rhone kept moving the brush in repetitive motions, but met her gaze in the mirror.

  “Because I care about you. And because there’s nothing Norton could do that would change the way you look in my eyes.”

  She turned then, burying her face in his shoulder. She began to cry in pained measures, her heated tears feeling as though they burned his skin.

  “He’s so disgusting,” she managed in broken words.

  “And he’ll never touch you again.” He realized he’d said the words before, but each time they meant more. While they were a promise to his wife, they were a deadly threat to the man who’d dared to touch her. Norton had stolen from Rhone for the last time.

  She pushed back, meeting his gaze. “Make his touch go away.” She took a deep breath. “Help me heal. Make me whole.”

  “Shannen, are you...”

  She tipped back her head; he saw her swallow deeply. “If you can bear to touch me, I need you.”

  Rhone cussed savagely, angry that Norton made her insecure that way. He dragged her against him, lowering his mouth to hers.

  She met his touch with an urgency of her own, surprising him.

  Her tongue sought his, met and danced, demanding more, giving more. He felt the nip of her teeth, and the sensation served to make his own need more profound.

  As much as she wanted Norton’s touch erased, so did Rhone. The thought of another man hurting what was his infuriated him.

  Shannen started to fumble with her buttons. Wasted years fell away, leaving them with the flame of passion that had first ignited their love affair. She wasn’t moving fast enough for either of them. Rhone moved her hands aside and took over the task of disrobing her, kissing her all the while.

  Shannen rose on her tiptoes, offering more of herself. Rhone stifled a groan, frantically working to remove her clothes. He had no choice but to unwillingly stop the kiss for now.

  She wiggled as he tugged. Finally, when she stood before him in pastel pink panties and bra, Rhone greedily took in the sight of creamy breasts that filled cups of satin and lace. All too well, he remembered her texture, the way her nipples tightly pebbled under his ministrations. The way she so perfectly fit with him.

  Rhone felt himself harden.

  He helped her from the panties, then reached behind her for the clasp to her bra, unfastening it. The scrap of lace fell apart and he began to ease the straps from her shoulders. The satiny fabric hung from his finger. Then Shannen looked at him. Misery and torment lay utterly exposed. He was stopped cold.

  “It hurts, way down deep inside. I’m scared for Nicholas, scared for you and frightened I may never feel clean again.”

  The fabric fluttered to the floor.

  Rhone looked heavenward, then back at her, aware of the intimacy, the trust that accompanied her confession. Her eyes were swollen, her nose raw. Yet he’d never met anyone more brave. “I know it hurts. I know what it feels like to—no, wait. I’m not going to say that I know how you feel and trivialize it—but I know what it’s like to have your basic rights taken away.”

  She lowered her head, as if humbled by his words.

  “Look at me, Shannen.” When she did, he continued. “You are one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. You’ve taken much more than one person should be expected to. You’re a survivor and I’m proud of you.”

  “You are?”

  “More than words can say. And right now I’ll do everything in my power to help you heal and feel clean. In the meantime, I can’t tell you not to worry about Nicholas, and I’m honored that you’re concerned about me, but I am asking that you try very hard not to let it consume you. Concentrate instead on taking things one step at a time. Can you do that?”

  She nodded.

  Rhone scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bathtub. Kneeling beside her, he reached for the detachable shower head. After making sure the water felt warm, he wet her hair, then worked shampoo in, massaging her scalp.

  “I’m not being too rough?”

  “No.”

  After rinsing the bubbles, he grabbed a huge sponge and squeezed lavender-scented bath gel onto it. Shannen shyly smiled, and he worked up a lather. Tenderly, yet thoroughly, he started with her nape, then worked down to her shoulders, then soaped her back.

  Under his thorough attention, he felt some of the tension begin to ease from her shoulders, wishing the motion did the same for him. As much as he wanted to be here, with her, another part of him recognized the burden of inactivity, knew Norton was out there with Nicky. Thankfully, Rhone trusted Doug implicitly. While Rhone was busy, so was Doug.

  Rhone moved to her front. “Tip back your head.” She did and he took the time to explore the graceful column of her neck, the hollow of her shoulders.

  Slowly, with deliberation, he soaped her breasts, going in lazy circles around her nipples.

  Shannen let out a little cry, allowed her eyes to shut, hopefully allowed the horror of what she’d been through to vanish, if just for a few seconds. Rhone knew how fleeting internal peace was, and he wished her as much as possible.

  Unmindful that he soaked his own shirt, he took the sponge below the water’s surface, stroking her legs, thighs, then higher.

  “Rhone, I—that is...”

  “Hmm?” His groin tightened. He shifted uncomfortably, his erection chafing against the tight denim and an unyielding zipper.

  “I...want you.”

  Rhone shuddered. He stood, adjusted the front of his jeans, then grabbed a towel from the rack. He held it up and wrapped it around her when she stood.

  He carried her to the bed, then stripped from his clothes quickly, joining her beneath the covers.

  “Rhone? Make love to me. Now.”

  The mattress sank under his weight and she opened her arms, reaching up for him. He’d been prepared to offer slow and easy, an agonizing build of sensual pleasure. But Shannen needed more. Needed the bad memories to be chased away.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “The only way you’ll hurt me is if you tell me no.”

  Rhone stroked the inside of her thigh, moving higher and higher as she started to squirm. With a gentle caress, he made certain she was ready. She arched beneath his hand, silently pleading for him.

  Rhone bathed her breasts with gentle kisses, then moved over her, feeling sweat bead on his forehead with the effort of restraint. He lowered himself gently, barely brushed her with his tip. Rhone nearly yelped when her fingernails bit into the sensitive skin on his back. “Shan...”

  She reached for his buttocks, urgently driving him closer.

  Further restraint impossible, he buried himself deeply inside her in a single, powerful stroke.

  “Stay like that for a minute?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, hoping he was capable of fulfilling the promise.

  Seconds seemed to swirl into minutes, the need for release building inside him. He supported the majority of his own weight as he gently fingered damp strands of hair away from her cheeks. “You’re sensational.”

  “So are you.”

  She began to move then, slowly, seemingly drawing him deeper inside her, threatening his hard-won control.

  “Take me, Rhone,” she said, her husky pitch all but sending him over the edge. “Take me to that special place where only you can.”

  Shannen lifted her hips in all the invitation he needed. Anxiously, he began to move in tandem with her. Her soft moans made heat coil deep inside him, and he felt the urgent build of his own climax.

  He captured her lips, her kiss, her unspoken words. He thrusted and she met the motion with a soft cry. Sweat trickled down his spine. The tips of her fingernails bit into his flesh, the warmth of her body welcomed his.

  They moved together for several more seconds until Shannen twisted to the side, burying the sounds of her c
limax into the pillow. Immediately afterward, he followed suit, allowing his pent-up frustration and unbelievable relief to find release.

  It wasn’t until later, much later, that he moved to the side. Their breaths were short and irregular, but Shannen held on to him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, fingering the hair at his nape.

  He feathered a kiss onto her forehead, unable to forget, that if it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have had to go through any of this today.

  Guilt tasted bitter.

  He knew the only way to get rid of it was to nail Norton and return Nicholas to the loving arms of his mother.

  “I’m sorry I fell to pieces.”

  “Shannen, almost anyone would have fallen to pieces. You didn’t. You kept calm and rational.”

  “But...”

  “You did exceptionally well. You can be my partner anytime.”

  She reached for him, kissed him with a power that left him feeling dizzy.

  All too soon, though, she ended it. “Thanks for everything.”

  “My pleasure.” He gave a quick grin.

  Rhone’s mind drifted, reality forging its way in.

  “How much longer, Rhone? When can we go after Nicky? Norton can’t be that far away.”

  He nodded, not surprised her thoughts followed the same track as his own. Before he could answer, the ding of the doorbell shattered the near silence.

  Rolling away from her, Rhone grabbed for his pants, tossing a robe toward Shannen.

  “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  She agreed.

  They shared a lingering look that said a million things and left as many unsaid.

  Hastily, he shoved his feet into his boots, grabbed a clean flannel shirt from his duffel bag, then jogged down the stairs. Hearing a murmur of voices, he went to find Doug in the kitchen.

  “Is Shannen okay?” Doug asked.

  Rhone leaned against the counter. “I think she’ll be all right.” But he wondered if she would. Now that he’d rediscovered her, he wasn’t certain he could let her go again.

  “Jack Norton’s file just arrived by courier. Must have pulled some fancy footwork to get hold of that. Heard it was sealed when he turned traitor.”