by Lydia Rowan
The woman looked skeptical, then glanced away confused, staring down over the edge of the deck and then looking at Cassandra, who stood still. Then she began to gnaw at one of her cuticles furiously, and Cassandra was surprised that she didn’t draw blood.
She could see the debate raging in her eyes and wanted very desperately to run, but also didn’t want to do anything to scare the woman.
If she played this right, she could disappear, and have the authorities intervene without anyone getting hurt. So she didn’t push it and instead just waited.
The woman finally dropped her hand and then looked at Cassandra and nodded.
“I’ll wait right here,” she said.
“Good. I’ll be back in just a few minutes,” Cassandra replied.
She began to walk away slowly, not daring to put her back to the woman for long. When she finally reached the stairs, she turned and went down them, fast but not so fast as to alarm the woman.
“No!” she whispered urgently when someone moved toward the stairs. “You can’t go up there.”
The man looked at her with shock in his eyes but must have seen something that convinced him, for he backed away and then began shooing others away as well.
Cassandra dug her cell phone out of her pocket as she moved toward the register and locked eyes with the barista from earlier. “We need to calmly and quickly get everyone out of here,” she said.
Then she dialed 911. The operator asked her to stay on the line, but she didn’t, couldn’t, because she had to make another call. As the phone rang, she prayed there was an answer.
“Silver.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes at the sound of his voice. “Lucian, I need you,” she choked out, not recognizing the frayed, stressed voice that came out of her throat as her own.
“How did you—”
“Cassie, what—”
Lucian’s voice had lowered, his concern apparent, but an eerie, skin-crawling feeling at the back of her neck made Cassandra drop the phone and turn to meet eyes that were as crazy as ever but now lit with rage.
“What’s this?” Tammy asked, her voice going high, frantic.
“Tammy…I just had a work call. Your drink will be ready in a minute and then we can go,” Cassandra said, trying her best to be convincing, but knowing that she was failing.
Tammy looked around the café and Cassandra followed her gaze, saw how it had been emptied, not even a barista behind the counter. When she looked through the picture window and saw the crowd gathered around outside, Cassandra knew this situation had turned messy, but she still hoped to salvage it.
“Tammy, I can get you help,” she said calmly, what she hoped was firmly but still friendly.
“Help?” Tammy practically screeched. “I don’t need help. I need you!”
“And I’ll come see you. I promise, but—”
Cassandra’s words were drowned in a sea of sirens that seemed extraordinarily loud. Tammy looked at her and then back through the windows toward the sound, and Cassandra could see the understanding beginning to coalesce behind Tammy’s eyes.
“You didn’t—you wouldn’t,” the woman said.
“They can help you. Make sure you go someplace where you get better,” Cassandra said.
She spoke louder than she ordinarily would to be heard over the sirens, but she hoped her voice was tender, held something that the woman would find comforting.
“Help?” she said. “I don’t need help! I need you! We were going to be together. I had it all planned out. After all these years, we were finally going to have a place where it would be just us. Just like we both wanted,” she screeched.
She looked at Cassandra again, staring darkly, her features twisting with heartbreak. “You don’t care about me. You don’t want to be with me. I thought—”
She narrowed her eyes, and lifted the gun for a moment, aiming it at Cassandra. Everything in her told her to run, but she stood strong, waiting, praying harder than she ever had before. A moment later, Tammy’s entire body seemed to deflate, and she lowered her arm. Cassandra thought she might faint with relief.
“I was wrong. All this time you were just like everyone else. You didn’t care. You never cared,” she said.
Then suddenly she turned, moving with preternatural speed. Cassandra watched as she rushed back up the stairs, her mind not moving fast enough to process what was happening. A moment later, she caught a flash of something out of the corner of her eye. A scrap of fabric fluttered to the ground, and Cassandra could see it was the gray sweater Tammy had worn. Seeing that sweater lazily float through the air got Cassandra moving, and she rushed out of the café and looked up.
Instantly, her eyes locked with Tammy’s, and even from the two-story distance that separated them, she could see the other woman’s eyes. The disappointment, the anger, the bone-deep hurt that flashed through those eyes were something Cassandra would remember forever, even if they were something she’d never understand.
She’d also remember the horror of watching Tammy press the gun to her temple, remember the screams, remember the loud bang of the gunshot, remember the way Tammy’s brains momentarily turned the blue sky red.
And especially remember the wet thud of Tammy’s body as it hit the asphalt.
13
“You done with your questions?”
Lucian didn’t bother to hide the impatience in his voice. Not even making an attempt wouldn’t earn him any new friends on the Seattle PD, but that was the least of his concerns right now. In fact, he only had a single concern and that was Cassandra.
She’d been talking to the detectives for over two hours, and that didn’t include the time on the scene where they’d asked their preliminary questions as the crime scene techs had scraped the dead woman off the pavement.
Or the half hour when, after he’d finally figured out where she was, Lucian had held Cassandra so tight, he thought he might break her. He hadn’t had any other choice, though. When the phone had rung and he’d heard her voice, his heart had soared, and then had come crashing down when he realized something was terribly wrong.
The twenty minutes between Cassandra’s call and him figuring out where she was had been the longest of his life.
Though Lucian knew it was a long shot, he’d hoped the questions on the scene would be sufficient, but the detectives in charge had decided to take them down to the station. Cassandra had been completely collected, not something that surprised him, and he knew she would be honest, if not entirely forthcoming.
The nature of their work made it difficult to communicate with outsiders, and this circumstance, one that Lucian and Cassandra still hadn’t completely wrapped their arms around wouldn’t change that. He and the guys would figure out what the hell had happened on their own. Not exactly cooperative, but Lucian couldn’t have cared less. And all that aside, it was past time for her to be out of this place, and he was ready to make that happen.
“She’ll be done shortly,” Jonathan Brandt, lead homicide detective for the Seattle PD, said. “Head of the Seattle field office wanted to chat with her.”
Lucian didn’t say anything, but Brandt’s cooperative nod told him the detective understood his frustration. Still, going along was the only way this would end soon, so Lucian kept his protests about jurisdiction and the FBI poking around to himself. It would only exacerbate the situation, especially given Silver Industries’ status in certain parts of the United States government.
So Lucian paced the police station, watching the minutes tick by, feeling completely useless and frustrated.
Seth was busy trying to find out everything there was to know about the woman, and Adam was providing backup just in case the threat hadn’t been entirely neutralized, but that didn’t calm the prowling restlessness that had Lucian unable to stand still.
The only thing that would do that would be seeing Cassandra, touching her, a fact that presented a whole new can of worms itself. They had been physically close these last few d
ays, and for some reason Lucian had believed it was simply that.
Today had proven his belief false.
He was worried for her in a way that went beyond what he felt for his team, far beyond what he’d ever felt for any woman he was sleeping with. He’d thought it was mere fondness, but it was becoming clear to him that whatever he felt for Cassandra was far beyond that.
Something for him to deal with later, or not, if he had his preference, but for now he needed to take care of her, make sure she was all right. Which he would if they ever let her out of this fucking station.
An hour later, she finally emerged from one of the interrogation rooms, looking slightly wilted but no worse for the wear.
“We’ll be in touch if we need you,” Brandt said.
“Anytime,” Cassandra replied.
And she looked up at him, her eyes darkening with relief before she looked away and then strode toward him.
Her muted reaction was a surprise. He had expected her to run to him, throw herself into his arms, which seemed ridiculous given what he knew of the woman. He’d like to think her relief at seeing him would have been enough to break through, but Lucian wouldn’t take it personally.
She’d been through a lot today.
When she reached him, he grabbed her hand, uncaring of who saw and more than relieved when she let him lead her out of the police station without protest. He’d been prepared for one, but was grateful that she didn’t. She remained silent as he settled her in the passenger seat of the SUV, and Lucian kept his eyes on her as he rounded the car and got in.
This was so eerily like the scene that had unfolded so recently, but different in one major way. He’d known Cassandra then, cared for her, even though she drove him crazy. But that fondness was nothing compared to what he felt now. Cassandra meant more to him than he could express, more than he could understand. And he’d come close to losing her.
Lucian still hadn’t decided how he was going to grapple with that, and when he looked at Cassandra, he saw that she was in a world of her own. So the ride passed in silence, the cabin tense with both of their thoughts. He took her directly to his condo and they made the forty-floor elevator ride still in complete silence.
When they entered his condo, she exhaled a little, much to Lucian’s relief, and then he led her to the dining room table.
“Sloan brought food,” he said as he retrieved the Cobb salad she had dropped off from the refrigerator. “Eat.”
He set the salad, one of her favorites, Sloan had claimed, in front of her with a knife and fork.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t—”
“Eat, Cassandra,” he said.
She looked at him sharply, but then looked down. She reached for her fork and began to pick at the salad, tentatively at first and then with increasing enthusiasm. By the time she was halfway finished, she looked a little bit better, some of the restless, tight energy having left her and some of the wilted exhaustion having been renewed.
A few minutes later she spoke. “Did they find out more about her? I know I didn’t give you a lot to work with…” Cassandra said around a bite of lettuce.
He shook his head, kept his eyes squared on her, watching her for any signs of discomfort. “You gave us plenty. A first name, that she was your lab partner in a college science class. We’ll know all there is to know within twenty-four hours. Did you recognize her immediately?”
After he spoke, she dropped her fork and looked at him, her eyes now moistening, and pushed the rest of the salad away.
She shook her head. “No. Not at all. It only came back to me after we’d been together for a while. That poor woman.”
“Finish your salad and then you should take a shower,” he said, keeping his voice calm, though the tremor in hers brought back the fear and anger that had choked him earlier.
But he set aside his feelings and focused on her. It would be easy for her to begin to wallow in what had happened, and incredibly detrimental. Once he had more information, they’d talk about it. As for now, he just needed to take care of her.
She paused a moment, her expression darkening before she brightened and then gave him a smile.
“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t work for you, Silver?” she said.
“Actually, you kind of do. But without getting into specific job titles, I was hoping you’d indulge me,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d intended, revealing more emotion than he’d intended.
She rolled her eyes and gave him a laugh, one that was almost normal. Then, after an exaggerated sigh, she picked up her fork.
••••
As Cassandra emerged from the shower, she felt like a totally different person.
Just an hour ago, she had been stunned, shell-shocked, not certain she’d ever feel all right again, but a good meal and a hot shower had done wonders.
She smiled, something that hadn’t seemed possible just hours ago, and wondered whether she should admit that to Lucian. Probably not, because doing so would only encourage his bossing her around. Something she surprisingly hadn’t minded, and he had been right. She nodded, deciding she would tell him so.
He’d had a rough day as well; he hadn’t said anything but she’d seen the weight of his worry when he’d shown up at the café. Then later, she’d seen how hard he worked to stay calm and guide her through the excruciating police process. That had been hard and she’d seen his desire to protest when they’d taken her away for more questioning. But even when they’d been apart, she’d felt him, his presence steady, reassuring, the one thing that had helped her keep it together. She pulled one of his shirts over her head and emerged from the bathroom, not at all feeling shy.
There was no need for it, and besides, after everything that had happened today, she felt closer to him than she ever had, so a little skin didn’t deserve a second thought. He came into the bedroom a moment later, his hair damp and water-dark, his chest bare.
When she had first emerged from the interrogation room, she’d wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she’d held back.
She didn’t now, though.
Instead, moving before she could talk herself out of it, she went to him and wrapped her arms around him, pressed her body flat against his, holding him with all her might.
A tear threatened to slip, but she blinked it back and instead hugged him tighter.
After a moment, he returned the embrace, squeezed her against him, his touch saying more than words ever could. As they stood, time seemed to slow, and Cassandra wished she could stay there forever, wrapped in the bubble of his arms. But eventually, she put just enough space between them so she could look up and meet his eyes. She stared into the dark blue orbs and then stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his lips.
Then she lowered herself back to the ground, looked into his eyes again, and then lifted again, kissing him, letting her eyes get heavy but not close.
Today had been awful, but she had survived, and she decided in that moment she wouldn’t waste another single second of her precious life. She’d been given an opportunity and she would take full advantage of it.
She kissed him again and he let her, not deepening their embrace nor pulling back, but instead standing still, letting her lead.
What had started as a calm, almost sensitive touch soon turned passionate, and she kissed him more deeply, moving her arms across his strong back, over his collarbones and across his chest.
He held her waist, fingers clinching tight against her skin, but he still didn’t push or take over. She kissed him harder and then pushed her tongue between his lips and then pulled back. He tightened his hands on her hips when she kissed the corner of his mouth and then trailed a series of kisses down the strong column of his neck, the stubble there prickling against her lips.
She linked her arms around his neck and let her fingers twine in the hair at the base of his neck and then continued to kiss him, moving her lips against his collarbones, down over the solid s
lab of his pecs, pausing to quickly snake her tongue out and circle his flat nipple.
That seemed to spur him, and he loosened his hold on her waist and trailed his fingers up her thighs and over her hip, across her stomach and up to cup her breasts. Lucian’s hands against her bare skin had her body aflame and her sex squeezing tight with need. He explored her tits with his hands, touching her roughly and reverently, the mix of boldness and tenderness only heightening her raging desire.
“Lucian…” she whispered, needing to say something, needing to somehow expel some of the desire-fueled energy that felt like lightning in her blood.
“Cassandra…” he replied, his breath against her skin, the little lift in his voice only driving her higher.
She let her hands fall down his flanks and across the rippled plane of his stomach and then lower into his waistband. Her fingers brushed the rough hair and then his smooth skin at the base of his cock. Lucian’s hitched-out breath had her repeating the process, and she circled his thick base again and again until he broke away.
Hands now twisted in the hem of her shirt, Lucian pulled it up and over her head and then quickly stepped out of his pants, leaving them both naked. Then, with a wicked smile, he pushed her back until she lay flat on his bed and then immediately spread out atop her.
Lucian lay there for a moment, resting his weight on her, watching her. Then, in a blink, he moved down and captured the throbbing tip of her breast with his mouth and sucked hard.
Cassandra arched off the bed, ignoring his low, boastful chuckle and instead grasping his hard biceps with her fingers as he tugged at the tip of her breasts. At the same time, he moved his hand down her stomach and settled it at the apex of her thighs, teasing at her.
As his fingers stroked in and out of her wetness, he released her nipple and then gently nipped at the plump underside of her breast and then moved lower, brushing his lips against the flesh of her rib cage, down lower, pausing to kiss along the slope of her hip.
She watched him when he moved lower, his lips tracing the trail between her lower stomach and her mound, the sensation and intention incredible.
