“Promise,” Meghan whispered with a tearful nod. “Me, you, and Daddy, we can finally be a family again.” Sobbing, the little girl wrapped her arms around her tight. “Just like you promised.”
Finally, the pressure caved in, and she gave into more tears. Them, a family, she mulled, squeezing her eyes shut.
It was the only thing that she really wanted.
***
At 4:30 pm, Sebastian faced a belligerent Agent Bietel across the long mahogany table in the conference room at Armani Imports.
Fiftyish, balding, the heavyset federal agent was one of the best in the field, having brought down some of the nation’s most notorious criminals. To say that the man disagreed with his latest shenanigans would be a misstep.
“The good news---the kidnapping charges against you have been dropped. The bad news? Confiscating and hiding Santini’s drug shipment while it was en route from Colombia without the FBI giving the go ahead---let’s just say that it didn’t go well with the bigwigs at headquarters,” Agent Bietel uttered with a deep frown. “As a matter of fact, they’re suggesting that we cut your ties with this case altogether. They say that you’re a loose cannon, and that you could jeopardize the case against the Santini organization.”
He passed the federal agent a cool look. “I’m the best chance that they have on getting the goods on the son-of-a-bitch and his father. Correct me if I’m wrong, but all the information that you do have, hasn’t most of it came from the things that my associates and I have discovered?” At the agent’s silence, he gave a tight smile before shrugging. “Of course, you know that, and here’s some fucking food for thought. With or without you and the suits, I will make the Santini lout pay for all that they’ve done. Whatever means that I have to use to do so, I will!”
“I’ve put my ass on the line for you for the last time, Armani!” Agent Bietel snapped, leaning forward in the chair while pointing a finger at him. “Don’t screw it up.”
“And you of all people should know by now that I don’t play by the rules,” he said angrily, sitting forward in the chair fast, and the fire blazed in his green orbs. “Right now, you’re going to have to trust my word that I’m close to nailing the bastards to the wall. I just need a little more time and cooperation on your part.”
When the conference door opened, they both looked as Marc sailed in.
“Seems that I’m missing all the fireworks,” Marc cracked, shutting the door behind him, and ventured further into the room. He sank down in the chair at his right. “Hard to tell whose winning the match.”
“Don’t worry. We’re just getting started,” he scowled heavily, shuffling through the papers in the manila file folder, and then hurled it on the table. “Again, we need more than this to prove our case.”
“The answer’s obvious,” Marc broke in, tenting his hands together on the tabletop. “It’s time to take off the kid’s gloves and get dirty along with them.”
“Those bastards need shutting down all around,” he broke in with a steely look. “Drugs, human trafficking, money laundering, murder, blackmail…hell, their list of crimes is extensive. There has to be a common thread that links them together.” He leaned back in the chair. “Marc’s right. We have to get just as low, down, and dirty as they are.”
Agent Bietel passed them both a long, hard look. “Aren’t we dismissing our lethal weapon---Vanessa Mitchell?” the federal agent muttered, and his thick beard moved along with his mouth as he spoke. “She could blow this whole case wide open. If we could get her professional help, somehow jog her memory, and then, hopefully, she could recall where she’s hidden the evidence---”
“Over my fucking dead body,” he quipped tightly, rearing up fast in the chair. “There’s no way in hell Vanessa’s going to be involved in any of this.”
“That’s no longer your call, Armani,” Agent Bietel snapped. “We’re running out of time, options, and opportunities. The Santini mafia ring is spreading to all corners of the south. Word on the streets is that they’re trying to expand their operations as far as Birmingham, Alabama.” He shook his head. “No, we’re going to use her. Not only will she be a viable resource to the case, but she’s a reliable witness as well.”
“Damn it, Bietel,” he cursed, sending the chair careening over as he stood abruptly. “What part of Vanessa’s not going to be involved are you not hearing? Leave her the hell alone.” He released another round of violent expletives. “If and when Vanessa remembers her past, it will be for her sake and not this damn case. Her memories and past belong to her and only her. I’m warning you, Bietel. Back off.”
“If you think for one second that your personal relationship with this woman supersedes my authority or this federal investigation---”
“Oh, shit, here we go,” Marc muttered, shaking his head. “Are we going to get any fucking where in this conversation, or will the both of you keep it up this tireless battle of wills?” He raised both hands in the air in defeat. “Okay, you both win. I’m out of this. You two, go at it.”
In the background, he heard Marc’s words, but hardly attended to them.
“To hell with your authority, Bietel,” he said coldly, bracing both hands against the conference table. “The last thing that you want to do is make an enemy out of me. Go after Vanessa, and you’ll find out how dangerous I am. And that’s both a threat and a promise.” He looked at the agent dead on. “She’s suffered enough abuse from them to last a lifetime, and I won’t let her suffer another minute. I only have one word of warning----don’t get in my way.” With cold precision, he placed the chair upright before sitting down again. Though his hands were steady, he still fought to control his open rage. Once more, he gave the man a cold look. “Go back and tell your fucking superiors to mull that fact over. Now, get the hell out of my office.”
Passing an equally cold smile, Agent Bietel stood. “I’ll be in touch,” the man muttered, sweeping past the long conference table as he treaded for the door. When he reached it, he paused. “Remember one thing, Armani. Neither of us can do this alone. We need each other. I think it’s high time that you chew on that fucking fact. Have a good day, gentlemen. As always, it’s been a pleasure.”
Still, though, he didn’t look up until the door had closed behind him. When it did, he released his frustration.
“Damn it!” he exploded, coming up from the chair, and then strode towards the wide paneled glass before looking out.
The blue skyline held the summer sun, but yet no answers for him. Turning around, he faced his closest friend. “Tell me how to fix this, Marc.”
“First of all, you want to avoid threatening a federal agent. That wasn’t a smart move at all, bro, and it’s probably put you in the running for a long prison sentence,” Marc offered, raising a brow, and then passed him a long look. “And you’re going to go ballistic when I say this. But, I agree with some of Bietel’s suggestions.”
“What?” he spat in disbelief. “Surely, you don’t agree that Vanessa should be involved in this.”
“Dude, we can’t overlook the fact that she does hold crucial evidence somewhere---”
“No,” he raged again, crossing the room. “You’re just as fucking crazy as he is. I can’t believe that you’re actually siding with that son-of-a-bitch!”
“Damn it, Sebastian,” Marc cursed, slapping a hand against the table. “I’m on your side. It’s time that all of us go on with our lives. But, we can’t, not as long as we’re dealing with Santini.” He challenged him with a long, hard look. “How many years has it been now? It has practically taken over our entire lives, and we haven’t breathed, let alone lived. Me, you, Meghan, and Vanessa---it’s time that we claim the victory and go on.”
“And she’s going to do that dead?” he said in a whiplash tongue. “Dead like Caitlyn and Colin? Tell me, Marc, what kind of victory are they living now?”
Do you think that you’re the only one who’s grieving?” Marc murmured, and pain flashed across his face. “In case
you’ve forgotten, Caitlyn was my sister and Colin my nephew. I want justice for them just as much as you do.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, feeling both and shame wash over him. “Sometimes, I can be a self-absorbed bastard. I don’t mean to be selfish about any of this.”
“It’s past time to lay all of this to rest. When we do, Caitlyn and Colin can finally go on to a better place in peace. As long as this is going on with the Addison’s, they can’t,” Marc continued, having regained his composure, and studied him close. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re afraid that the same thing that happened to Caitlyn and Colin is going to happen to Vanessa and Meghan.”
“Yes,” he admitted, looking away. “And I can’t fail them in the same way that I did them. Because of my incompetence and weakness, they went through a tremendous amount of suffering. I’ll be damned if history repeats itself.”
“While you have a penchant for assuming most blame, in this case, you’re wrong. We both know who’s responsible for the sadistic and cruel actions that were wrought upon them. It’s not you.” He paused again. Before, we didn’t realize the kind of people that we were dealing with. Now, we do, and that’s what makes a difference,” he sighed. “Again, I know that you don’t want to, but you need to consider letting Vanessa in on this. Up to this point, in spite of all the heartbreak and dishevel in her life, she’s managed to keep standing. Hell,” Marc quipped in a teasing voice. “She’s managed to withstand the hurricane known as Sebastian Armani.” After pushing the chair back, he stood. “Much as I’d love to stand here and go a few rounds with you, I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Alright,” he nodded, returning to the window, and a few seconds later, heard as Marc left.
He faced the Atlanta skyline again.
Unsurprisingly, once more, it held no answers.
***
Later that night, lounging against the plush pillows at the middle of the bed, she read the final pages of the novel, and then snapped it closed before letting out a contented sigh. Hugging it to her chest, she smiled dreamily, satisfied that the hero and heroine had overcome their many obstacles.
Everything had turned out perfectly…
She bit her lip in concentration.
Would her fairytale romance have a happy ending?
The bells chimed on the clock.
Midnight, she mulled quietly, and her eyes went to the other bedroom door.
While she’d been engrossed in her book, she’d also been listening for signs of Sebastian being in his room. But, there’d been nothing to indicate that he was, she pondered quietly, fighting against the disappointment. That wasn’t surprising, either, considering his absence since he’d left earlier that day. Not only had he missed dinner, he hadn’t called or spoken to her or Rosa.
The novel bit through the thin, peachy hued nightgown as she clutched it closer against her chest, and she considered a painful thought.
She straightened in the bed.
Was it possible that he was out on a date with another woman, she thought, feeling the jealousy consume her. Certainly, a virile, attractive, and sexually driven man like Sebastian wouldn’t be content or patient enough to hover along the fringes of life.
“It’s not my concern what he does any longer,” she said haughtily, tossing the book aside, and glared across the room at the door. “Nor do I care.”
She fell back against the pillows. “Oh, who am I kidding?” she sighed. “I’m insanely in love with him.”
Suddenly restless, she kicked the covers off before treading for the balcony. The thin, frilly nightgown was perfect for the night heat, she decided, sliding the balcony door aside. As she stepped outside, she inhaled a breath of the summer air, and again, the scent of Georgia pines and flowers assailed her senses. Propping against the railing, she soaked in the sights of the huge estate and marveled at the exquisite beauty.
Not too far out, she caught sight of someone walking across the lawn, and the shimmering moonlight shone upon them.
She caught her breath.
Of course, she knew exactly who it was.
Sebastian strode across the grounds with intent and purpose, and even from this distance, she was held captive by his masculine excellence.
And he was simply power, she realized, helplessly drawn, and continued to stare.
For he had complete control over her---
Grasping her nape, she took in a shaky breath.
He was half-dressed…
Only the white sleeping trousers covered him.
As if sensing her primal stare, he glanced up.
Their gazes made a connection.
Locked and held---
She tightened her hold on the thin railing, praying that it’d support her.
He drew closer.
She couldn’t look away.
Neither could he…
It was if both of them were spellbound and held captive by a secret entity.
But, finally, somehow, he managed to break their visual hold first and turned his attention elsewhere. Still, though, like a besotted hopeless fool, she watched until he veered completely from her sight. Once he did, she scurried back to the bedroom before leaping back onto the bed.
Drawing the covers to her neck, holding her breath, she stared at the door that linked theirs. Several minutes passed, and finally, she heard movement in the hallway and the soft click of the door, an indication that he was finally in his room.
A moment later, there was the sound of a running shower.
Naturally, he hadn’t lost that habit, she mulled, swallowing hard.
A late night shower after a long thought-provoking stroll had always been a staple of his. And just what thoughts had plagued his mind, she wondered, feeling her incessant needs rise.
Did those very thoughts mirror hers?
The need to be close…
The need to be loved…
And the desire to know one another’s most intimate thoughts---
“Oh, Sebastian,” she whispered in the darkness. “I miss you so much.”
Before her good sense could rule out, she kicked the covers away again and left the bed. When she reached the adjoining door, she questioned her own sanity and reasons. Heart pounding, pulse racing, she closed a trembling hand around the doorknob before giving it a gentle twist, and after the briefest of hesitation, she pushed the door open.
The darkness bathed the bedroom except for the sliver of light coming from bathroom door which was barely cracked. From what she could tell, the room was warmly dressed in a deep fuchsia color. The furniture, of course, held a modernistic flair from the large four-posted bed, armoire, and chaise lounge not to mention the rest.
Her eyes went to the mussed bed.
The very essence of him lingered, she thought, fingering the sheets, and quickly caught a subtle scent of his signature cologne, a rich mixture of sage and oak moss. Closing her eyes, she picked the pillow from the bed before hugging it to her.
Would this be as close as they’d ever be again?
“Dear God, what am I doing?” she whispered, blinking back tears, and placed the pillow back on the bed. “I shouldn’t be here. But, is it so wrong that I want to be?”
Still, though, her footsteps led her towards the bathroom.
The hiss of running water grew louder as she cracked the door open.
But, from this vantage point, the shower wasn’t visible.
Heart pounding, she ventured inside.
A richly designed his and her double sink rested beneath the long mirror that stretched along the wall. All sorts of toiletry items obliterated the counter from shaving cream, lotion, toothpaste…
She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.
Had she ever appeared so vulnerable and lost before, she mulled, and was stunned by the look of desperate need on her face. Taken aback, she moved again, this time bypassing the shiny glistening white tub.
As she drew closer to her destination, the air left
her lungs.
She had no semblance of herself.
But, still, she reasoned, inhaling a desperate breath.
How could she possibly turn away from this moment?
The open shower fell into view, and as she caught of his wet, naked body, she nearly came apart. For he was a sight to behold---
He stood with his back to her, not realizing that she was there.
In fine streams, the water coursed down him.
She clutched the front of the nightgown with shaky hands.
And his body---
The one that she’d tasted, touched, and loved on so many occasions…
It was contoured like a well-sculpted masterpiece.
Long hours in the sun had served him so graciously, she thought, drawing in a long breath, and leaned her back against the wall for support. From head to toe, his skin was a rich brown bronze color. At once, he turned slightly to the side, and she caught full view of his bulging erection.
And dear heavens, he was fighting to stave his raw needs, she gasped, subconsciously grabbing hold of the nightgown’s hemline. As she watched him, she hitched it up her thigh, and the fabric whispered up her tingling skin.
She ached…
She felt….
She needed him…
And he needed her, she mulled, drugged, enslaved by the sight as he closed a hand around his engorged organ. As the water sprayed against his raging flesh, he shut his eyes tight while struggling to bear his needs and agony.
Her own breaths came fast as she inched the nightgown higher, fighting to appease her own dark needs as she slipped a hand inside the bikini panties. Drugged, lost, she hurled herself willingly into the forbidden place.
With his every stroke along his shaft, she stroked her inner lips, and before long the wetness bathed her slim fingers as it seeped from her deep insides.
His breaths were harsh and erratic as the cold water sprayed against him.
So was her own, she moaned, struggling to control her cry.
His movements quickened.
The Darkest Days (Torn Apart Book 2) Page 12
