by Lora Leigh
Lie to herself? She wasn’t lying to herself.
chapter nine
He’d known better. Riordan couldn’t say he hadn’t known what was going to happen, because he’d known exactly what was going to happen. From the moment he touched her until the second she’d called a stop to it, he’d known. And he wasn’t angry with Amara as much as he was with himself.
He should have never allowed things to progress to that point. He should have pulled back long before he had … hell, he shouldn’t have touched her to begin with.
But he’d seen the need, the aching desperation that went beyond anything sexual as she stared up at him with those drowsy eyes and he hadn’t been able to resist.
No more than he’d been able to resist that first kiss. The memory of her teasing had the power to singe his senses, even now.
“You want to kiss me,” she laughed softly, amused by his distance. “I know you do. You act all hard and cold but I bet you think about it when you’re in bed alone at night.”
“Do you mean I jack off to the thought of kissing you?” he all but growled at he stared at the innocence in her face. “Baby, if I were thinking about you while I jacked off, it wouldn’t be kissing I’d be doing.”
He meant to shock her, to make her angry.
Amusement curled her lips despite her blush. “So, what do you think about, Mr. Malone, when you’re thinking about me and jacking off?”
His dick went hard so damn fast it was painful.
“Paddling your ass,” he bit out between clenched teeth as his hands itched to touch her.
Her lips pursed with an enchanting pout. “I’ve never been spanked. Should I cry ‘uncle,’ or do you get really kinky and insist on ‘daddy’”
She was laughing at him.
Damn her, she was killing him with lust and she was laughing at him.
“No, I’d get kinkier,” he assured her. “Because after I spanked that smart ass of yours, I’d end up fucking it…”
And then he’d kissed her.
A smile quirked his lips despite the anger pouring through him, at the memory. He’d shocked her. Her lips had parted and color had filled her cheeks as her eyes widened. And he’d been helpless against that need to taste her.
Jerking open the front door he stepped into the icy cold Colorado night, nodded to the two security guards who stood watch in the hidden, heated alcove to the side of the entrance, and strode quickly around the side of the house.
The cold air with its hint of snow did nothing to cool his arousal. Hell, there weren’t enough cold showers to cool what she did to him. He’d learned that the hard way the year he’d spent in New York working on her security team.
Ivan had never taken Amara’s safety for granted. Elizaveta and Grisha were with her daily, but at night, he had two guards outside the penthouse entrance and two more inside. Not that Elizaveta and Grisha weren’t damn nuisances during those months he’d spent in Amara’s bed. They roved the apartment at all hours of the night and made sure he didn’t spend a full night with her.
Because he hadn’t wanted her to have to deal with her father when he learned Riordan was sleeping with her. He’d known the first thing Ivan would do was fire his ass, and he wasn’t certain she’d go with him.
Pausing by the back patio behind the gas fireplace, he slid into the shadows of a heavy pine and blew out a hard breath.
He’d spent six months healing, building his strength, and each night he was tortured by dreams of touching Amara, or her nightmares. It had taken him months to figure out what was going on. Months of waking in a sweat, her screams echoing in his head, or her moans of need torturing him. Months where nothing seemed to make sense until the day his grandfather looked at him and asked him if he’d found his way.
Found his way.
Had his Irish eyes seen into the gaze of the one whose soul would hold his own? Was he seeing through her eyes, her nightmares, her dreams?
And he realized then what had happened.
Noah had told him once how his bond with his wife Sabella had saved him through months of torture while he’d been held by the head of a drug cartel. How she’d come to him, try to ease him, and beg him to come home to her, even though she’d been told he was dead.
And he’d remembered during those years Sabella and Noah had been apart, how she’d wake screaming for “Nathan” the man his brother had been. She’d sworn her husband was alive, no matter what she was told, no matter that she’d seen his casket lowered into the ground.
And when Nathan Malone had returned as Noah Blake, it had taken her no time at all to realize that although he wore a different face and answered to a different name, even though he had another eye color and a different voice, he was her husband.
Because they’d found their way to each other. They were two parts of a whole and only death could truly separate them.
Had Riordan found his way?
He hadn’t even realized what had happened during those months he spent in Amara’s bed. And when Ivan had sent him to England, he’d gone. Despite his misgivings, despite the fact that something had warned him not to go, he’d walked away from her.
And less than a week later, she’d been abducted.
The sudden sense that he wasn’t alone had him waiting, still, silent until Ivan stepped next to the pine and extended a pack of those damn strong-assed Russian cigarettes toward him.
He hadn’t smoked since he was eighteen, when his had brother threatened to make him eat the damn things—until the past six months. He’d broken down more than once in that time.
And he broke now.
Taking the pack, he shook one out, used the matches tucked in the back and struck one, lighting the end of the unfiltered cylinder.
“This shit will kill you, Ivan.” It was all he could do to hold in a hacking cough at the strength of the smoke he inhaled.
Ivan’s expression was thoughtful as he lit one himself, shook out the match and, like Riordan had done, tucked it in the plastic pack.
“No doubt,” he said, after inhaling deeply. “But, better to die by these than by many other things that are almost a certainty.”
Riordan inhaled again, more to have time to consider the words than for any other reason.
Ivan wasn’t one to just pass time, and it was obvious he’d come looking for him.
Remaining silent, he enjoyed the smoke, finding a sense of calm in the fragrant smell of the tobacco.
“Has she told you the last thing she remembers before the abduction?” Ivan asked as Riordan finished the cigarette and disposed of the stub in the smoker’s post closer to the gas fireplace.
“No. We haven’t talked about it.” He was too busy trying to get his hand in her panties to think about it.
Putting out his own cigarette, Ivan nodded.
“Her last memory is arriving at lunch with me, nearly a year before the abduction. She was to meet her new security agent”—he paused—“you.”
Riordan stared back at him, frowning. “The lunch where she met me?”
Ivan nodded. “She remembers nothing from minutes before that meeting until she woke up in the hospital.”
She’d forgotten every moment of the time he’d been in her life. The months she’d spent teaching him, that he’d spent telling himself he couldn’t have her. The months he’d spent in her bed, trying every way he could imagine to ensure she couldn’t forget him. And she’d done just that.
“You think it has something to do with me?” he asked, not certain how it could. “She was conscious when we got to her. She was still conscious when we pulled her out of that pit. She knew who we were and what had happened.”
Hell had happened as he and Noah’s team had pulled her out of that dark little hole in the ground. The team tasked with taking out anyone waiting, had taken out the first team. They’d been unaware of the second team though, and Noah still hadn’t managed to figure out how that happened.
“So the others reported.” Ivan
nodded. “Still, it is the last thing she remembers.” He lit another cigarette, inhaled. “Why didn’t you tell me when I sent you to England that you were sleeping with her?’
He breathed out heavily. He knew Ivan had suspected the relationship—the man had sent him away from Amara every chance he could. But he hadn’t expected Ivan to broach it quite this way.
“Yeah, that’s the first thing you do when you start sleeping with a woman. Inform her father,” he snorted. “Especially when you’re aware of all the men he’d fired just for flirting with her. Besides, it wasn’t any of your damn business.”
Ivan’s head jerked around, his eye blazing with anger. “She’s my daughter…”
“She’s not a child, your wife, or your possession,” Riordan snapped. “She’s a woman. And if she had wanted you to know, then she would have told you herself.”
And she hadn’t.
He’d waited for it, certain she’d tell him so she wouldn’t have to fucking sneak around and run him out of her bed whenever they heard Elizaveta or Grisha moving around. It had been Amara who had insisted on keeping the relationship a secret, not Riordan.
He’d have fought for her if she’d been willing to face her father, but she hadn’t been.
“You should have come to me,” Ivan argued. “When I sent you to England and you argued to stay, you should have told me why.”
Riordan pushed his fingers through his hair and shot the other man a furious look.
“You were always sending me somewhere, dammit. The job in England was only supposed to be for a few weeks,” he snapped. “How did you find out, anyway?”
“Because it is your name she screams in her nightmares,” Ivan ground out. “It is you she begs for, Riordan. And that is the only reason I allowed you back into her life.”
Son of a bitch. Ivan hadn’t ‘allowed’ anything. Nothing could have kept Riordan from returning to Amara.
“And I’ll be staying.” He stepped from the shelter of the pine, glaring back at Ivan as he silently dared him to try to send him away again. “Don’t think you can get rid of me now.”
“Get rid of you?” A harsh laugh left the Russian. “You damn clueless cowboy, why the hell do you think you ended up on her damn security team to begin with?”
Ivan turned and stomped away as Riordan stared at him in surprise, and no small amount of confusion.
There was no way Ivan could’ve meant that he’d brought him onto Amara’s team in the hopes that a relationship would develop. Could he?
With that son of a bitch, anything was possible.
Still, he couldn’t get what Amara’s father had said out of his head. Amara screamed his name in her nightmares, just as he heard in his own nightmares. Amara screaming his name.
What was he going to do? Forcing Amara to remember whatever she’d forgotten wasn’t going to be easy. If it was, then that damn therapist would have already managed it. One thing was for sure though, they’d never be certain she was safe until they learned who had abducted her. To learn that, they had to know what happened the night she was taken, and only Amara could help them with that.
So how did a man convince a woman who had forgotten him, to remember him again and to hopefully remember everything that happened after he left her?
chapter ten
The storm was moving closer.
The next afternoon Amara cast a wary eye toward the mountains, the clouds thickening and rolling closer, as she stepped from the building where her doctor was located. Riordan was at her side as two more security agents flanked her.
Moving quickly across the sidewalk to the SUV, she stepped into the back seat and was surprised to see Riordan join her. The other two agents hurried to the vehicle behind them, and within seconds they were all pulling out and beginning the drive back to the estate.
Pushing her cold hands inside the pockets of her leather jacket, she turned her head and stared out the window, her gaze on the gathering clouds rather than on the man she could feel watching her.
She could barely face him after their confrontation the day before in the family room.
“Doctor’s appointment go well?” the lazy drawl in his voice had her head turned before she stop herself.
She shrugged uneasily, wondering why he was asking.
“It was a doctor’s appointment, how else could it have gone? She just wanted to be certain I’m having no problems…” She inhaled, unable to continue.
Her gynecologist had far too many questions, and the exam itself had made her uncomfortable. Not in a creepy way—but still—she’d felt off balance, uncertain in a way she couldn’t explain to herself.
“The fracture healed without a problem?” he asked as she flinched at the reminder. Her pelvis bone hadn’t been fractured completely, but the crack it had sustained was serious enough that it had required several months of physical therapy.
“Without a problem,” she assured him, her voice tight as she turned and stared out the window again. She huddled deeper in her jacket, wishing they’d turn the heater up. She’d been cold since forcing herself to shower and get dressed that morning.
“Drew?” Riordan spoke into his cell phone to the agent in the front passenger seat.
He could have just lowered the window, she thought in exasperation.
“Turn the heat up back here. Miss Resnova’s cold,” he told the other man before disconnecting.
“You didn’t have to,” she said without looking at him. “I’m sure the temperature was actually fine.”
“Hmmm.” The noncommittal sound had her glancing at his image in the window once again.
She didn’t say anything further, didn’t know what to say after last night.
“Are you on birth control?” He didn’t seem to have a problem finding something to say.
Her head jerked around as she stared at him, outraged.
“How is that any of your business?” she burst out, feeling the flush that burned in her cheeks.
A single brow lifted mockingly.
“I am the one who nearly had his hand in your panties last night.” He grinned. “And if I’m not mistaken, you were just as wet as I was hard.”
Oh my God, he didn’t say just that.
“You’re crazy.” She couldn’t quite catch her breath now.
“That’s beside the point.” The bastard was all but laughing out loud. “I just thought I’d ask in case I got the chance to actually get your panties off.”
She could only stare at him for long moments, amazed at the sheer nerve.
“Not going to happen.” She forced the words out.
He nodded slowly as he pursed his lips.
“Remember that thing about lying.” He grinned slowly. “I’m counting.”
She jerked her head around to stare out the window once again. One should never engage with a crazy man, her mother had always advised her. There was no way to win and a thousand ways to lose.
“Did you think about me while you were masturbating last night?” he asked her just when she was certain he would remain silent the rest of the drive. “I thought about you while I jacked off.”
She would have blasted him for that if the heavy sense of déjà vu that swept over her didn’t have her pausing, searching for the reason why.
“Stop,” she whispered instead. “I didn’t realize…”
“Remember, I’m counting those lies,” he reminded her.
She wasn’t speaking to him again. He was crazy. It was that simple. God, he was going to make her as crazy as he was in a minute.
“We have a few minutes before we reach the estate. If you want to slide over here, I’ll finish what you started last night.”
She had to close her eyes and force herself to stay in place. Because for all her outrage and disbelief, she wanted nothing more than to let him finish what he started. And it infuriated her. The arrogant ass. He shouldn’t have even mentioned last night.
She opened her eyes, and her lips parted to tell him
what he could do with his offer when the sudden sound of an explosion shattered the air. Before she could think or react, she found herself on the floor below the seat, Riordan’s hard, muscular body on top, holding her down.
“Grisha, what the fuck?”
“Hang on … hang on,” Grisha’s hard voice ordered. “Goddammit, hang on…”
“Dammit, Grisha, that’s a cliff…” Drew yelled as the vehicle lurched again along the narrow shoulder.
The vehicle careened, the sounds of tires screaming and metal against asphalt overly loud as the vehicle bounced, causing her and Riordan to slam against the seats. Fighting for something to hold onto, Amara felt her arm slip beneath the cushioned seat and slam into metal as the SUV bounced again.
Terror crashing through her, she fought to keep from slipping into hysteria. Reality and nightmare seemed to converge as she fought Riordan’s hold on her.
“Move out! Move out!”
“I know what the hell it is,” Grisha was yelling as the tires screamed and the vehicle seemed to tilt, then shudder before righting itself and coming to a hard, slamming stop.
The silence was terrifying, filling her head as her fingers curled into fists, waiting, waiting.
Just one sound broke through
“We’re losing him … we’re losing him…” For a second, she wasn’t in the SUV, she was in the dark, a cacophony of sound echoing around her, unable to look around, unable to see.
Someone was dying. They were losing him. He was dying.
Riordan …
“Riordan!” Her own scream filled the silence, and she was fighting the weight on her, fighting the restraints as well as her own weakness and panic. “No. Riordan don’t…”
She was sobbing, fighting, and couldn’t get free, couldn’t break the hold on her. Panic and terror consumed her, nightmare visions filled her head as fireflies erupted around her.
And she knew, just knew, that Riordan was dying.
“Amara. Amara. Baby…” She was jerked into strong arms, warmth surrounding her despite the chill wind she could feel racing around her. “Come on. We’ve got to get you out of here.”
