by Jayne Blue
She looked up toward the ceiling, new tears spilling out the corner of her eyes. Then she locked eyes with me. “Don’t promise me. Please, don’t promise me. You, of all people. You can’t tell me everything is going to be all right. It isn’t always all right. So just tell me what you know.”
I let out a breath. “Okay. I don’t want to jump to conclusions. But we think the stuff that’s been happening to you is part of a larger criminal enterprise. Identity theft and swap. Someone switched out your information for someone with the criminal background you keep getting tagged with.”
She sniffled. “I figured it was something like that.”
I nodded. “And it’s possible that tonight was connected to that.”
She ran her thumb along the seam in my kitchen table where the leaf fit in. “And you think whoever this other person is … you think someone’s trying to do them harm only they think that’s me?”
I reached for her. I put my hand over hers then hooked my fingers under her chin and brought her gaze back up to mine. She blinked her pale eyes once. Her body stiffened but she didn’t pull away. I knew the truth of my words would slam into her piece by piece. If she was the target, it meant her friends got caught in the crossfire. She’d blame herself. She’d try to take it all on. And I wanted so desperately to spare her from it.
“I think that’s a very real possibility. Until we have a lid on this, I don’t want you going back home. You need to stay out of sight.”
She made a choked noise but didn’t pull away from me. “Phil. Old Phil. He could die because of this. They were aiming for me. You said that at my house. I didn’t really process it. I’m the target. This wasn’t random.”
“We don’t know that yet for sure, but yeah. I think there’s a fair chance that’s true. But you can’t blame yourself. You hear me? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She jerked away from me and buried her head in her hands. “Oh God. I can’t. I think I’m going to be sick.”
She stood up and kicked the chair away. She took a few staggering steps and wound up in front of my kitchen sink, her palms flat against the counter. I went to her. I put a hand at the small of her back and pulled her hair away from her face. She put up one hand to stop me.
“Just give me a minute,” she whispered. She took a breath then turned to face me. I had my hands against the counter and she stood between them. Her body pressed against mine. I didn’t move. Didn’t dare breathe. My heart seemed to pound through my chest. As I looked at her, twin images slammed into my brain. I saw Stella in front of me. Scared, beautiful. Strong. I saw the ambulance in front of her house and relived those few seconds when I didn’t know if it was for her. So close. Inches. Nanoseconds. It could have been her. They could have taken her from me before I even had the chance to tell her …
“Mitch?” My name on her lips. A whisper of air against my cheek. So close. So damn close.
“I never should have come back here,” she said. Her words hit me as if they had physical weight. What if she had never come back here? I couldn’t think it. I pushed violently against that thought. She was here. I never wanted to go back to not having her in my life. Until that moment, I hadn’t allowed myself to realize how much that was true. I’d been empty for so long and hadn’t even known it.
I lost myself. With my hands digging into the granite counter, I pressed my lips against hers and took what didn’t belong to me. Soft heat. Salty tears. Oh God. My body was charged. Combustible. I should have pulled away. I couldn’t. Then the tipping point. Stella’s hands went up. She laced her fingers through my hair and pulled me closer, then kissed me back like liquid fire.
Chapter Twelve
Stella
Mitch’s kiss was a match strike in my core. My skin came alive with white heat. My pulse thundered in my ears. I meant to pull away. But the moment I thought it, my body betrayed me and I found myself pulling him closer. Oh God. He tasted like sin and heaven all rolled into one. My whole body became the throbbing pulse of desire thrumming through me. Wanting. Needing. Taking.
He whispered my name. His voice skittered along my flesh, raising the tiny hairs at the back of my neck. I pulled him closer still, the hard muscles of his chest pressed against mine. My nipples peaked, aching to be touched, suckled. I wanted more. I wanted it all. Some dark corner of my mind cried out a warning. This was wrong. This was a bad idea. But desire stronger than anything I’d ever felt took over.
“Mitch!” I gasped. I couldn’t think straight. Didn’t want to. Mitch’s arms came around me, pulling me away from the sink. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing. I tore at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it out of his waistband. The fabric ripped as I pulled it aside. But I wanted him. I wanted to feel his naked flesh against me. He felt hard and strong. I slid my hands over the rough curls on his chest. I pulled at his waistband and he pulled at mine. His pants dropped to his ankles and I closed my fingers around the thick hardness of his erection. He throbbed in my grip and when he moaned, it undid me.
I clawed at my jeans until they fell away. I kicked them off. Mitch pulled me forward so I teetered on the edge of the kitchen counter. He hooked two fingers under the crotch of my cotton panties and found me soaked for him. I cried out as he slid those fingers along my slick folds. I spread my legs for him, my body responding unbidden as if I were made for this. Made for him. Mitch dropped his head and pressed his forehead against my shoulder. I carved my fingers through his hair, caressing the curve of his skull.
I knew what this was. I was scared. Tonight I’d come so close to dying. I wanted to feel alive. All those rational thoughts warred with the rising urge within me. I knew all of that, but I didn’t want to think. This was Mitch. This was me and Mitch. And I wasn’t strong enough to do the right thing.
“Please,” I begged. I didn’t think I could stand it if he asked for permission. I just wanted. This might be wrong, but it was primal, overpowering. I felt like I’d die if I went another second without him inside me. When Mitch lifted his head, his eyes flashed with the fire of desire. He felt what I felt. And we were both too far gone to fight it now.
With one quick tear, he shredded my panties and cast them aside. I straddled his hips as he plunged into me, fast and deep, sheathing himself to the hilt.
“Yes!” I cried out. I meant, oh God, yes! This! Now!
I braced myself, gripping the edges of the counter as Mitch drove into me. I curved my body around his, clawing at his back. I wanted more. I wanted it deep. The powerful muscles of his perfect, round ass flexed as he pounded into me. My teeth rattled with the force of it, but I opened for him with each deep stroke.
Mitch grunted like some wild thing. That’s what he was. What we both were. We’d unleashed a need unlike anything I’d ever felt. I was so wet, so ready. The heated throb between my legs overtook me. He was good and strong and all mine.
With each thrust, words tumbled through my brain with the same pounding rhythm. Take me. Claim me. Fuck me. They drowned out all the rational thoughts telling me why we should stop.
“Stella!” My name was ragged on his lips and I wanted to hear it. Over and over again as Mitch filled me. I wanted to answer. Call his name. But the rising tide inside of me took over. Pleasure blossomed. I cried out and struggled to spread my legs even wider. I threw my head back. Mitch pushed my shirt up and my bra with it, leaving my breasts exposed and thrust out for him. When he closed his lips around my nipple, I was done for. He swirled his tongue around the aching bud until I finally did cry out his name.
It was perfect, raw and wild. I raked my fingers over his back. He still had a shirt on but I knew I scored his flesh and marked him. Then I came. Hard and thundering. White lightning filled my vision as I hit wave after wave of my pounding orgasm. Mitch buried his face between my breasts and pulled me down, plunging himself even deeper as I reached the crescendo. Then I felt him stiffen. His balls hitched. He went still and cried out as his own thundering orgasm poured out of him and into me. An
d I wanted it. All of it. All of him. I wanted to tear myself open and let him fill me. Remake me. Own me.
We crested down together. I fell over him, resting my cheek against his shoulder. Mitch had his arms around me. He pulled me off the counter and down we went. In a tangle of limbs, slick with my juices and his, I wrapped myself around him. We ended up on his kitchen floor. He feathered soft kisses against my neck as I pulled him close and finally rested my forehead against his chest.
He held me close, his strong arms forming a protective barrier between me and the rest of the world. It would be so easy to stay like this forever, shut my eyes and pretend the world could stop. For those few moments, it did. That niggling, rational part of my brain told me I should feel guilty. But I couldn’t find the strength to fight it.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. I pressed my ear against Mitch’s chest, listening to his fluttering heartbeat slow, the rise and fall of his breaths coming easier now as the heat of our passion subsided. He traced lazy circles over my arm and kissed the top of my head. I was afraid to pull away, to sit up, or even to try and gather the torn remnants of my clothes. We were in some magic bubble, the afterglow where nothing real had to happen. If I moved, if I breathed too hard, it might burst and the world would come crashing down around us again.
I knew what I wanted to say. I could almost taste the words on my lips. I love you. I couldn’t do it. It could shatter us both. So for that brief, absurd span of time, we stayed locked like that on his kitchen floor. The unlikeliest of places to find your heart and lose it again.
Finally, Mitch shifted his weight. Slowly, he stood up and brought me with him. He slid his arms out of his shirt and wrapped it around me. It covered me to my knees and he lifted a finger to brush a stray strand of hair away from my eyes. He parted his lips to say something. Then his eyes changed. Hardening a bit as the world we’d pushed away started to seep back in.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I pulled his shirt tight around my body. It was warm from his body heat and smelled like him, strong and male.
“Don’t,” I said.
He ran a hand over his face. “God. Stella. That was careless.”
“Don’t!” I put a hand on his chest. “For the love of God, don’t tell me you’re sorry. You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m not fragile. I’m not going to break. And I am not …” I stopped myself. I was going to tell him I wasn’t Brian’s. But the minute I did, that bubble would burst once and for all between us. I wasn’t ready for that yet. But it already had. The minute I thought his name, pain slammed through me. Not guilt. Never that. But something must have changed in my face and Mitch jumped to that very conclusion.
He buried his face in his hands again. When he looked up at me, his tortured expression tore through me.
“Mitch,” I said. I put my hands over his and pulled them down. “Look at me. I wanted it too. God. More than I ever realized. You don’t have to protect me from … well … from you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He slid his hand behind my neck, tracing his thumb along my bottom lip. I couldn’t help it, I sighed against him, swaying on my feet. He felt so good. Already, I felt the rising pulse of desire. I wanted him again. Badly. It was as if a dam burst between us. I’d let him touch me just the once and now I craved him.
“I should have though. Protected you. I mean, I should have used protection.”
“What? Oh. Oh!” I did a quick mental count. “It’s okay. I mean, no. Of course you’re right. But, ugh. Just, can we not? Let me worry about me.”
Mitch’s sheepish smile seared through me. He still cradled my face with his broad, strong hand. I leaned against the warmth of it. I thought of all the things I should say to let him off the hook. Except, every one of them would be a lie. I wanted this. I wanted him. Was it selfish of me? Yes. But at that moment, I didn’t care. I went up on my tiptoes and put a chaste kiss on his lips. I loved the rough feel of his stubble as I ran my hand over his jaw and pulled him down to kiss me even deeper. Heat flared within me again. His pulse jumped beneath my fingertips.
“I won’t ever stop worrying about you, Stella,” he said when we finally pulled apart again. “So I’ll stop asking you if you’re all right, if you stop asking me to pretend I don’t need to know.”
I smiled as I finally pulled away from him. I gathered my jeans off the floor and slid back into them. “How about for right now, we just both stop trying to step over and around each other’s feelings. What I really need right now is a shower.”
Mitch laughed, the deep timbre of it skittering down my spine. He nodded. “Sure. Upstairs, first door on the left. Use whatever you need. I’ll set up the guest bedroom across from mine.”
“Okay. But then I need to find out what’s going on at the hospital. I need to know about Phil.”
“I’ll call and see what I can find out. I don’t want you over there tonight, but I’ll have one of the day-shift guys take you there first thing in the morning. You’ll go in a squad car. I don’t want you alone. I have to go to the office and check on a few things. Then I’ll meet you there.”
I started to pace. He wanted me to say that was okay. It wasn’t. I couldn’t possibly go through the entire night not knowing whether Old Phil lived or died. Mitch was already on his cell phone. He put up a finger, gesturing for me to wait as he walked out of the kitchen and into the other room. His end of the conversation was nothing more than a series of “yeahs.” It infuriated me.
I followed him into the living room and sat on the armrest of the couch with my arms crossed. Finally, he clicked off and came to me. His face betrayed nothing. He put his hands on my shoulders and let out a breath.
“Oh God, Mitch?”
“He’s alive,” he said. I felt like a deflating balloon. I sank against Mitch as he cupped the back of my head with his hand. He kissed me on the top of the head again. Then I pulled away and looked up at him.
“You said he’s alive. You didn’t say he’s okay. Tell me. Whatever it is, I need to hear it.”
Mitch gave me a grim nod then delivered the news.
Chapter Thirteen
Mitch
I held Stella on the couch until late into the night. She wore an old Red Wings jersey of mine, having forgotten to pack anything to sleep in. It hung to her knees and somehow she managed to make it look sexy. The V-neck hung just low enough I could see the curve of her breasts. It took everything in me not to reach under the hem and cup her perfect, ample ass. As much as I knew I had to reign it in, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it felt like to be inside of her. It was just the one time. That’s all it could be, but it felt so good, so right. It also tore my guts apart. Touching her, being with her like that. I’d violated every code there was. Dead or alive, she belonged to Brian. It didn’t mean she could never be with another man, but that man shouldn’t have been me.
God, just the thought of that. Stella with anyone else. Rage and jealousy rose within me, followed by one simple phrase, over and over again. Mine. She’s mine. I tried to push those thoughts away.
She’d finally fallen asleep in my lap. She’d cried so hard into my shoulder my shirt was still drenched from it. I’d wished there had been a gentler way to tell her the news that would break her heart. The old man was alive and hanging on, but it didn’t look good. He’d been lucky. The shot tore through his shoulder, shattering the bone and shredding most of the muscle. It collapsed his lung but it missed the major arteries. They could rebuild it, piece by piece. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The trauma gave the old man a massive stroke. He was stable, but unconscious. The doctors told his son if he survived the night, they’d know a lot more come morning. Stella pleaded with me to take her to the hospital. But the shooter was still out there somewhere. She was still at risk. She relented only when I told her she might be putting the old man in harm’s way again if they were wa
iting for her to show up.
So we’d reached a compromise. She’d stay put tonight. Tomorrow morning, I had two uniformed officers coming in to take her to the hospital in a squad car. They had instructions to stick to her like glue. That meant they’d follow her into the restroom if need be. Stella didn’t like it, but she agreed. It killed me not to be able to go with her, but I needed to get to the office and follow through with the investigation. A text from Agent Caulkins came in late last night. He wanted a meeting. As much as I wanted to stay by her side, I could do her more good bringing down the asshole that did this to her.
And there was something else I needed to do first to try and get my head straight.
She was still asleep when the uniformed crew knocked on my door. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw who it was. Officer Lori Walling and Pete Smalls. Both solid. If I could have handpicked anyone to stay with Stella other than myself, it would be these two.
Stella stirred on the couch as I opened the door. She gave me a sheepish smile and yawned as she stood up. God. I realized how this must look. Walling and Smalls betrayed nothing, standing rod straight in the hallway. Lori stepped forward and introduced herself, calling Stella ma’am and shaking her hand.
“I’ll catch up with you in a few hours,” I said over Lori’s head. I tried to make myself sound detached and professional. The tiny twitch at the corner of Stella’s mouth told me my attempt at a stern tone had the opposite effect. Plus, I couldn’t take my eyes off her bare legs. The jersey hung just above her knees and I knew she wore nothing beneath it. I coughed, clearing my throat, then gave her a grim nod. Fuck. This was bad. The last thing I needed was the churn of the Northpointe PD rumor mill. Luckily, I was pretty sure neither Walling or Smalls would gossip. It’s one of the other reasons I liked them so much. I grabbed my suit jacket from the closet and headed out the door.
