by Nina Croft
She was naked. Had she ever woken up in a bed naked, with a naked man beside her? She’d been a married woman, but no. Never. She sat up, pulling the sheet with her so she covered her breasts. Light was filtering through the curtains. It was still early, but morning was close. The night was over. Tomorrow was here and her time-out at an end.
“But you remember this time?” Finn asked.
She nodded. “It seemed so real.”
“Tell me. Maybe talking of the nightmare will help it go away.”
Now she’d remembered, she didn’t think anything would make it go away. It was indelibly imprinted on her mind forever. She’d always had a feeling she was being punished for some crime she knew nothing about. That God was making her suffer. And not only her, but the ones she loved. Glancing at Finn, she was overcome by a sense that she could bring him nothing but pain. She knew he was coming to care for her. Or maybe that he already cared about her. And it was too late. And she would lose him, and he would suffer some horrible fate. A scream echoed in her mind, and she flinched.
“Rachel?”
His tone was urgent, and she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and she was back in the dream. “There was screaming, and fires, burning, the stench of…” A shudder ran through her. Like roasted meat, but she knew it was human flesh that burned on the fires. How did she know? “There were people, lots of them, people I knew, who had turned into strangers in a second. Strangers who hated me. Hated my son.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. She could see it in their eyes, the manic zeal, the need to punish. What had she done? “In the dream, I have a son. His name is Marcus. He was so scared and brave. He tried to fight them, but he was too small. Then he clung to me as though I could save him.”
She blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Finn wiped it with his thumb, and she leaned into him, then pulled herself away and frowned. “What is it?” he asked.
She tried to make sense of it all, the screams and the smoke, the angry crowd. “I wasn’t thinking of Marcus. There was someone else. They’d taken him from me. And I was fighting to get back to him. There was something I needed to say to him.” Something that hovered just on the edge of her world. If only she could remember, maybe she could stop it happening. But however hard she concentrated it slipped away. “But he was gone, and I knew I would never see him again.”
“What did you need to say?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I had no chance. They were pushing me, shoving me. Marcus fell over, hit his head, there was blood, and he was crying, and I tried to protect him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t save him.”
She was sobbing now, and she wished she could stop. It was only a stupid dream. “I begged them to take him away. He’d done nothing. I knew they meant me to die, I could see it in their eyes.” She frowned. “Why did they hate me? I didn’t want Marcus to see, but they wouldn’t listen. Someone hit me, and everything went black for a second, then they were lifting me. I lost my hold on Marcus and for a second I allowed myself to hope.” She wiped away the tears.
“You don’t have to say any more.”
But she had to see this through to the bitter end now. She looked at him through her tears; his expression was stricken. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She wanted to say it was only a stupid dream, but she couldn’t make the words come out. “There’s not much more to say. They threw me into the village well. It was deep, and I was falling for an age. The water was so cold. It filled my lungs, and I was choking, and I thought about just letting go, letting the darkness take me. Then they threw Marcus after me, and I knew I had to stay alive to save him. Except he was already dead. They’d smashed his skull with a rock, and I held his lifeless body.” She’d wanted to die then, just one thing had kept her from sinking. “There was someone. Someone important. He’d said he would take care of us both. I thought he would come for me. Even then. That he would save me, and I didn’t die because there was something he needed to know.”
“What?” His tone was urgent, and she cast him a look.
“I don’t know. It’s there on the edge of my mind, but the truth eludes me. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because he never came. They put the lid on the well and I was plunged into darkness. My son was dead in my arms, and still, I wanted to live. In case he came back for me. The walls were rock, and I scrabbled for a hold, something to keep me up. I don’t know how long it took to die. A long time. It was so cold and dark, and at last I had no strength left, and I remember thinking, if he came then, it would be too late, and I would be dead. And I sank, and the water covered me, choking me.” A shudder ran through her. “It’s just a dream. But then I’ve been terrified of water all my life. I suppose it’s no wonder I have nightmares about it.”
He went still at that. “You don’t think perhaps it’s the other way around? And you’re scared of water because of the dream?”
“But something must have triggered it. Maybe my mother dropped me in the bath when I was a baby.” She’d wasted enough time on a stupid dream. When she was naked, in bed with a real man. She leaned in close, took a deep breath, filling her nostrils with the scent of warm man, and sex, and a sharp spicy aroma she couldn’t identify but was oh-so-familiar. It made her melt, as though her insides would slide from her body. She wanted him again. Needed him again. She suspected he might be the one thing that could melt the icy cold and bring light to the darkness.
She released her hold on the sheet and it fell, baring her to the waist. His gaze dropped, and heat flushed his cheekbones. She was so close, she could feel the immediate reaction of his body, hardening against her thigh. His hand reached out and cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing over her nipple, and fire streaked through her.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I want you. I want you to make the dream go away.”
He lowered his head and kissed her nipple, sucked the tight little bud into his mouth and stroked her with his tongue, and it felt so good. He gripped her shoulders, rolling onto his back, pulling her with him, so she sprawled across his body, then he kissed her some more. She sank into the sensations, clearing her mind of everything but the feel of his mouth on hers, his hands on her body, the heat between her thighs.
He went still, and she opened her eyes. He couldn’t stop now.
A loud banging filled her ears.
He cleared his throat. “I think there’s someone at the door. And I suspect they’re not going away anytime soon.”
“No.” She wanted him. Just one more time. She had a feeling that something was going to go wrong. That they weren’t meant to be together. That she had to grab at every moment with him. Because you never knew when someone would be taken from you.
The banging came again. “Mom!”
Jacob. Her son. She had a flashback to holding that other small, lifeless body in her arms. The loss and despair. She’d failed him.
It’s a dream. Nothing but a dream.
She was straddling Finn’s hips, so she could feel the length of him pressed against her. Pushing herself upright, she looked down at him with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
He put his hands on her waist and lifted her off him, then climbed out of bed, and she stared. He was so beautiful. Tall and lean with wide shoulders and pale, perfect skin. Some sort of tattoo ran down the left side of his back, like a bolt of lightning. She hadn’t noticed it last night. His legs were long and muscled, covered with a light golden fur. He bent down and picked up his pants, turned toward her as he pulled them on, and she caught a glimpse of his manhood, only half hard now, but still impressive. He looked up, found her staring and grinned as he pulled up the zipper.
He disappeared into the bathroom and came out a moment later carrying a white robe. He tossed it to her and she pulled it on, then hurried into the other room. It sounded like her son was getting impatient. As she opened the door, he leaped for her, and she hugged him hard.
&nbs
p; Phoebe stood outside the door. She gave a small shrug. “Sorry, but he woke up, and he wanted his Mom, and I thought you’d want to see him.” She peered past her into the room. “We’re not interrupting anything, are we? Now he’s seen you, maybe I can take him away and give him some breakfast.”
Rachel tightened her hold on Jacob, burrowing her face against his throat, breathing in the sweet, familiar scent of him. “No. I want him to stay.” She kissed him on the forehead. “You hungry?”
He grinned “Starving.”
She tickled him, and he giggled. He seemed to have totally gotten over his experience.
“Er…is Finn here?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes, come in.”
“Just for a moment. I’ve got a message for him from Cade.”
Rachel carried Jacob inside and placed him on the sofa just as Finn appeared in the bedroom doorway. He was dressed—pants, shoes, the white shirt open at the throat and the sleeves rolled up over his strong arms. Her stomach did a little flip when she saw him.
Phoebe glanced between the two of them. It must be obvious that they’d slept together. While Finn was fully dressed, his face held a sleepy, sated look. And she was pretty sure hers was likely the same. And just the fact that he was still here… But she found she didn’t care. She wasn’t ashamed of what they had done.
It had been right.
No sin involved, whatever the religion she’d grown up with would say about the matter.
“Sorry to burst in on you like this,” Phoebe said. “But Cade told me to tell you that Gabriel has been in contact. And that the meeting is on if you still want it.”
He cast her a look, something flickering behind his eyes. But then he gave a nod. “When?”
“As soon as you’re ready.”
He blew out his breath, cast her another look—this one of regret. He crossed to where she stood, and without touching her anywhere else, he kissed her on the lips.
She didn’t want him to go.
“I have to do this,” he said.
She forced a smile. “No problem. Go do your business. Me and Jacob have some eating to do.”
“I’ll be back. Maybe I can take you both out and see some of the city.”
“We’d like that.”
“Good.”
She had a feeling he didn’t want to go either. But he just gave a shrug. Turned around and disappeared out the door.
It was as though he’d taken the light with him, the room dimmer now he was gone. She heaved a huge sigh.
Phoebe was still standing in the middle of the room. “Sorry,” she said again.
Rachel’s lips twitched. “What for?”
“Just disturbing you so early, but he woke and… Cade said they needed to see Finn. And he wasn’t answering his cell, and…”
“Enough. I’m glad you brought him. And thank you for looking after him last night.”
“My pleasure and anytime…if you and Finn need some alone time. Sophie has fallen in love with Jacob. She told me this morning that she’s going to marry him.”
“Thant’s nice.”
“So you’re together? You and Finn, I mean?”
Together? She wasn’t sure what that meant. She knew what it meant to her Papi’s people. The only way for a man and woman to be “together” was to marry. And there had never been any talk of marriage. For goodness sake, she’d only known him a few days. Though that wasn’t true. He’d been part of her life since she was a young girl. Honestly, she had no clue of the answer. Then she remembered the feel of him deep inside her, the sense of rightness, the almost unbearable pleasure. “For the moment.”
The truth was she was scared of how much she liked him, of how he made her feel. Maybe she needed to back out now before she got in too deep. She’d loved her father and he’d been lost to her from an early age, and now dead. Her mother was gone. And although it was illogical, her mind told her there were countless others. Marcus.
She had a weird way of hurting the ones she cared for. Even in her dreams.
***
Senator Danvers had never been a true Christian. Oh, he’d gone through the motions, dressed up in his Sunday best, and taken his family to church every week because it was expected of a man in his position. But it had bored him to death. It had never occurred to him that he should worry about a few of the less…Christian choices he had made in his drive for power over his fellow men. Because he’d never really believed that a man had to pay for his sins after he died. There was no day of judgment. A man made his life the best he could, and he lived on through his children.
Except his son was dead. He’d poured everything he had into grooming Michael, so he would one day be the most powerful man in the world, and fate had snatched him away. A random car crash.
He’d thought he had another chance with his great-grandson. He’d considered Rachel a nothing. He would have allowed her to stay with her son, so long as she hadn’t interfered with his plans for Jacob. If she had, it would have been easy enough to arrange an accident, or an overdose, or maybe just have her locked away somewhere. Some home for the mentally incompetent. He’d always thought she was a strange one. The boy had clearly needed a strong hand and some serious re-educating after the weird-assed upbringing he’d had so far. But he was still young enough to have the right attitude instilled. Power was what mattered. The only thing.
Now for the first time, the senator thought about praying. Unfortunately, he was bright enough to realize that any prayers at this point would likely be ignored. If there was a God, Danvers suspected he was more the vengeful creature of the Old Testament—take an eye for an eye—than the forgiving later version. He doubted turning the other cheek was an option.
Christ, he wished there was some way to avoid this meeting, but he knew in his heart that it had to be faced and gotten through. Or not.
His finger shook as he pressed the intercom. “Send her in.”
The door opened a few seconds later and Cassia strolled in. He remembered Stanton’s words last night. “She does not have your best interests at heart.” The man obviously knew of Cassia.
She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever known. Her red-gold hair was usually up in a ponytail, but today it hung around her shoulders. She had green eyes, slightly tilted, full lips, and pale, flawless skin. Except today, when he looked closely, the skin across her cheeks seemed to ripple and pulsate, as though something alive was trying to get out, and a shudder ran through him. She was tall and voluptuously curved. When he’d first met her, he’d fantasized about getting her naked. His stomach churned at the thought.
She came to a halt in front of his desk. “Send your assistant home for the day,” she said.
He didn’t want to, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop his finger going to the intercom. “Sarah, you can leave for the day.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cassia rested her hands on the top of his desk and leaned closer. He had to fight the urge to push his chair back. “You failed me,” she said.
“I didn’t have a choice. I had to back off. They got the boy back, and I had no leverage. You didn’t tell me I’d be going against a goddamn private army. Stormlord Securities is vast; its people have contacts everywhere.” He thought about the paper Finn Stanton had handed him. The depth of their knowledge was scary. Unfortunately, not as scary as the woman in front of him.
Her eyes narrowed. “I went to a lot of trouble to get your cooperation,” she said.
That didn’t make sense. “You came to me with a proposition. Just a meeting. I get my grandson and his mother to the city, and you would fund my next campaign.”
“You really think it was that easy?” She studied him for a moment, a slight smile on her face, and something cold clamped around his heart. “Tell me,” she said. “Why didn’t you bother with your granddaughter before this?”
He shrugged. Unsure where this was going. “I didn’t need her. I had my son. Michael was going to be the next president.”
“And what changed?” she asked.
He swallowed. “Michael died.” As he spoke the words, something occurred to him briefly. The cold grip around his heart tightened, and pain shot down his arm so his hand spasmed. He rubbed at his heart, not wanting to follow the thought through to its obvious conclusion.
“You really think that was a coincidence?”
No!
The word roared inside his head. “You killed my son?”
She shrugged. “You killed his wife. Don’t sound so sanctimonious.”
Of course he’d killed Naomi; she was standing in his way. He’d run her off, but she was still there in the background. The big love of his son’s life. The only mistake Michael had ever made. While Naomi lived, Michael had refused to consider marrying again, and he was supposed to be founding a goddamn dynasty. So he’d taken Naomi out of the equation, and Michael had fallen into line as his father had known he would. Though he’d never managed to sire another child.
“We all have to do whatever works,” Cassia murmured.
“You killed my son.”
“I did. And it was so easy.”
He wanted to lunge across the table, to punch her face, punch her everywhere, until she disintegrated into a pool of bones and blood. All his plans, all his hopes for his name to go on forever. Taken from him. The pain was getting stronger now, and he pressed his fist over his heart. His breath was ragged, and each intake of air burned his lungs. She was watching him, as though he were some interesting specimen.
He asked the question he’d never asked before—other people’s motives had never interested him. “Why? Why are you doing this?”
“For love,” she said.
“Love?” The word was an alien concept.
“Finn Stanton. I’ve always loved him, and I was promised him. He’s mine. Or will be soon. We’re the same—you mere mortals can never understand us, but we can understand each other, and he’ll realize that in time.” She blew out her breath. “Enough. Time to say good-bye. I won’t say it was a pleasure working with you. I dislike failure, and you are not a good man, Senator Danvers. Accept this as payment for a lifetime of evil deeds. Perhaps I can tell Rachel I avenged her mother. Before she dies.”
