“I wish I was lying—I wish none of this was the truth.”
“If wishes were horses . . . ” Beverly mused. “Well. They aren’t. The truth is what it is.”
She gestured toward the tote at the other end of the table. “I spent most of yesterday gathering up every last thing that belonged to Kyle—I was going to have one very nice fire in the backyard. Then I found that.”
“What is it?” Ana asked, wary. She suspected she really didn’t want to know. And she also suspected it really didn’t matter. Beverly wanted her to know.
“Souvenirs.” Her voice shook. “Even if I could have convinced myself you were lying, it wouldn’t have lasted, not once I found that. Marie’s ring is in there—Paul gave her that ring. She wouldn’t have parted with it for the world.”
Ana stared at the tote, blood roaring in her ears. She really, really didn’t want to look inside. Swallowing, she looked at Beverly and asked, “What are you going to do with it?”
“Take it to the police.” She lowered her eyes to the table, studying her hands.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Ana asked gently. “You know what will happen. People will find out . . . your daughter, your granddaughter . . . everybody.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.” Beverly laughed. The sound bordered on hysteria. “Believe me. I spent most of last night trying to decide what to do. But in the end . . . ” A sob escaped.
Helpless, Ana gazed at her and tried to decide what to do. In the end, she did nothing, waiting as Beverly took a deep breath and composed herself. “Would you like some water? Some tea?”
“I’d rather have whiskey, but I need a clear head to get through this.” She gave Ana a weak smile. “I know what’s going to happen. But I also know I’ve spent thirty years wondering what happened. Why. Who. I can’t condemn other people to that. If I don’t take this in, those poor families will just keep on waiting. They deserve to know.”
“I wish I could be that strong,” Ana said sadly.
“You think you’d do it differently?”
Ana smiled bitterly. “Oh, I’m pretty certain I’d do it differently. Strength isn’t really my strong suit.”
“I think you’d surprise yourself,” Beverly replied. “It took strength to do what you did.”
“I didn’t really do that much. Duke—”
“Your friend wasn’t there the first time you came to see me, Ana. Whatever led up to this, I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t want to know. But you can’t convince me that you don’t have strength, not after what you did.” She glanced around the small apartment and asked, “Where is he?”
“Gone.” Ana pushed back from the table, unable to stay still. She would have preferred to run back inside her room and hide, but she settled on going into the kitchen and making some tea. Even if Beverly didn’t want any, it gave Ana something to do with her hands.
“Gone—I get the feeling he’s not gone to the store, is he?”
Ana looked up over the breakfast bar and met Beverly’s sympathetic gaze. “No. He’s not gone to the store. He’s just gone—he came here to help me take care of this. Now that it’s done, there’s no reason for him to stay around.”
“I guess that explains why you look so miserable.”
“I guess it does.” Silence stretched out as Ana made two mugs of tea. The sweet scent of cinnamon and cloves filled the air as she put the mugs on a platter, added the bowl of sugar and the small container of half-and-half from the refrigerator.
“Does he know how you feel about him?” Beverly asked as Ana settled back down at the table.
Flushing hotly, she busied herself with adding sugar and half-and-half to her tea, making it even sweeter than she usually drank it. Curling her hands around the cup, she darted a quick look at Beverly and tried to decide how to answer that.
“He doesn’t, does he?”
“No.” Ana lifted the mug to her lips, even though it was too hot to drink. She breathed in the warmth and wished it could do something to ease the chill inside her.
“If you’d rather I not pry . . . ”
Ana snorted. “Beverly, considering what I’ve done to your world in the past few days, it would be pretty shitty of me to get upset, wouldn’t it?”
“But you didn’t do it to my world, Ana. I was living a lie, living with—” Her voice broke off and she blew out a harsh breath. “I still can’t believe it. I’ve been married to the man who murdered my sister. You had nothing to do with that, Ana. You might have been the one to bring the truth to light, but it was the right thing to do. Besides . . . I got to see Marie once more. There have been times when I would have given anything to have that, to see her just once more, to tell her . . . so many things. I didn’t get the chance to tell her all the things I wanted to tell her, but she’s at peace now. Isn’t she?”
“I think she is.”
Beverly nodded. “She is. She has to be. And that means a great deal to me.”
She sipped from her tea, although Ana had a feeling she did so more out of a need to be polite than anything else. Beverly’s gaze bounced back and forth between Ana and the black tote.
“Do you want to look inside?” she finally asked.
“I’d rather not.” Ana barely managed not to shiver. “But if you think I should . . . ?”
“It’s entirely up to you.” Beverly took one more sip and then stood.
“If you don’t want me to look, then why did you bring it by?”
The older woman shrugged. “Perhaps I just wanted a reason to knock on the door. To see if you really did live here—and maybe I needed to see your face again, to make sure I didn’t imagine the kindness I thought I saw in you. I’m glad to know I didn’t.”
Ana blushed.
“I’m going to take this to the police station now.” She took a deep breath.
Bracing herself, Ana knew, bracing herself to do something very, very hard. “Would you like some company?”
Beverly laughed. “Actually, yes, I would. But I’m not going to ask you. Nor do I want you to offer.” She reached for the bag, holding it gingerly, careful not to let it touch her body. “Please don’t take this wrong, but I get the feeling its best if the cops know as little about you and your friend as possible. Am I right?”
“Ahhhh . . . ” The spit in Ana’s mouth dried up and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.
Laughing, Beverly murmured, “That’s what I thought. Don’t worry, Ana. They won’t hear anything from me about you or him.” She headed to the door but halfway there, she turned back. “I’m leaving Alaska. I haven’t decided when, or where I’m going to go, but I don’t want to be here anymore. I think my Jeannette and little Marie will come with me, although I can’t be certain. Nonetheless, I’m ready to leave here. I won’t be seeing you again. And although I don’t blame you, I’m very glad of that.”
Ana couldn’t blame her a bit. She followed her to the door and watched as Beverly headed down the steps.
At the bottom, she stopped once more and looked back up at Ana. “You really should tell him how you feel, Ana.”
Then she left, climbing into her car. Ana watched as Beverly drove away and once the car turned out of the driveway, she slid back inside the house and closed the door. Leaning against it, she stared at her small, empty apartment.
Empty.
Shoving off the door, she paced over to the breakfast bar, staring at her phone. A little red 1 flashed at her, but she ignored it. Should she call him? Tell him?
No. She really shouldn’t.
There was just no point.
She turned the ringer off, and for extra measure turned off her cell phone. Then she went back to bed.
IT took a hell of a lot longer than Duke had thought it would, and he still didn’t get as much done as he’d planned on. Too damn bad, though, because he wasn’t going to stay away from Ana for any longer.
And the first thing he was going to ask was where in the hell sh
e’d been all day and why she wasn’t answering her damn phone.
As he turned into the drive, the sight of the lights on in her apartment eased the huge knot in his gut. He parked his new Jeep Grand Cherokee in the driveway and climbed out. The first thing he’d done that morning was return the rental. If he was going to be staying in Anchorage, he wanted his own vehicle. Somehow or other, he’d have to get his bike up here, but he’d worry about that later.
All sorts of little details he needed to take care of, things he’d planned on doing today, but time got away from him. Getting the Jeep had been the most important, followed by some calls back to Excelsior to help with other technicalities.
He and Ana were going to need a bigger place—one away from Carter Hoskins, preferably—the guy still set Duke’s teeth on edge, even though it wasn’t anything other than possessiveness.
Getting a house required all sorts of information, paperwork, a work history, credit history . . . all sorts of shit.
All of it had been previously arranged and in a few days, he would be ready to do the next thing. He’d already found a place—at least he thought so. He had to make sure Ana liked it, too. Realistically, he knew it might not be as easy as all of that, but he’d cross that road when he came to it.
For now, all he could think about was how perfect she’d look in that house.
Aside from the house, the Jeep, getting the wheels in motion to settle down here, there was another important matter that had taken up half of his afternoon—notifying the police about the bodies he sensed buried in Palmer. That had taken a little bit more doing, and in the end, he’d settled on another call back to Excelsior. Let them handle taking care of the anonymous tip. Duke didn’t have so much as a laptop up here and he wasn’t sending it from Ana’s, either. Not considering the stuff the cops could do with technology these days.
Too much of the day gone, though. Nearly four o’clock. It had been an hour since he’d tried calling Ana at home—no answer, just like the other four times he’d called. He’d called her cell three times and each time, it had gone into voice mail.
He loped up the steps and used his spare key to unlock it. It was quiet. Distantly, he could hear Ana, her breathing slow and steady. Sleeping? Frowning, he crossed the floor and paused by the counter. Her cell phone was there, turned off. A red, digital 5 flashed at him from the cordless phone.
Dropping his keys on the counter, he headed down the hall.
She was sleeping, all right, curled up in a ball with her back away from the door. He paused in the doorway, uncertain if he should wake her or not. If she was that tired, maybe he should just be nice and let her sleep. They could always talk later, right?
Screw being nice.
Silently, he slipped out of his shoes, jeans and T-shirt. She could sleep. That was fine. But she’d do it while he was there with her. He circled around the bed and slipped under the blanket, stretching his length out next to her. His heart froze in his chest as he caught sight of her face. Her eyes were red and puffy—had she been crying?
He forgot about his intentions to let her rest. Reaching up, he cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lip. “Ana?”
Still sleeping, she sighed, a soft, shuddery whisper of sound. She rubbed her cheek against his palm. Her breath caught, hitched in her throat.
For reasons he didn’t really understand, his heart started to ache. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers. “Ana.”
She murmured his name against his mouth.
Duke lifted a hand and rested on her thigh, easing it up over her hip, then to her waist. He rested it there, on that soft curve and kissed her again. “Ana.”
SHE was dreaming.
Ana knew she was dreaming.
She also knew she didn’t want to wake up. Duke was here, in her dreams, lying next to her and his long, warm body managed to chase the chill from hers. If she woke up, he’d be gone, she’d be alone and cold.
So logic dictated she just not wake up. At least not yet. Not until she had to.
But dream-Duke seemed to want her awake. He kept whispering her name and kissing her, soft, teasing little kisses. “Wake up, princess.”
“Don’t wanna,” she muttered truculently.
He laughed and whispered, “Why not? Come on, Ana . . . open your eyes.”
He wouldn’t quit. Her logic made perfect sense to her. If she woke up, he’d disappear. But he didn’t seem to get the point and kept nagging her, and nagging her . . .
Then he slid a hand up and cupped her breast. Sighing against his lips, she arched into his touch. That was better. Definitely better. Dream sex was better than waking up, any day of the week.
She reached for him, her fingertips grazing over the hard, naked muscles of his chest, the sculpted lines of his belly. He groaned as she closed her hand around his cock, then he rolled on top of her, kissing her hard and quick.
“You going to wake up?”
“Make love to me,” she whispered, refusing to listen to him talking about waking up. She’d have to wake up sooner or later, no reason to do it now.
“Not until you wake up,” he muttered, his voice a harsh, rough growl.
His lips covered hers and she opened for him, but he didn’t have a soft, seductive kiss in mind. Not even a deep, demanding one. He didn’t kiss her at all. He bit her lip, hard enough to sting and the shock of it had her eyes flying open.
The dream fell apart around her and she could have cried—but then her eyes focused and she saw Duke above her, his sandy hair falling into his face as he stared down at her.
“Duke?”
He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. “You sound surprised . . . were you expecting somebody else?” But he kissed her before she could answer, kissed her—and pushed inside, driving deep until he’d buried every last inch of his throbbing length inside her.
When he would have lifted up to look at her again, she locked her arms around his neck. Clinging to him, desperate. Kissing him, starving.
Not a dream. That was all Ana could think. Not a dream—he hadn’t left.
She didn’t know what that meant, except maybe he just hadn’t gotten tired of her yet. But she wasn’t going to think about that—not when she had those big, hard hands gliding over her body, cupping her hip, her bottom, palming her breasts. Not when he kissed her, those deep, hot kisses that made her feel as though he wanted to gorge on her taste. Not when he moved above her, riding her, pushing her higher . . . and higher . . .
Tears burned, slipped out from under her closed eyes. She didn’t care. He lifted his head, made a rumbling sound deep in his chest—a wordless question. Then he kissed her tears away, catching them with his lips.
“My Ana,” he whispered. “Mine . . . ”
“Yours.” For as long as you want me . . . before she could say those words out loud, she pressed her lips to his. “Kiss me, Duke.”
Warm hands, strong and calloused, stroked her body, fisting in her hair and arching her head back as he pressed kiss after ravenous kiss to her mouth. Gliding down her side, palming her ass and canting her hips higher, taking her deep, but so slow. So slow . . .
She raked her nails down his back and arched, grinding her hips against his.
“Such a hurry,” he teased.
Ana stared at him from under her lashes, watching him as she clenched down around him, milking his length with her inner muscles. Duke groaned and arched his back, shuddering.
She did it again.
He swore.
Again and again.
He growled.
Again.
He slammed into her. Hard and fast, shafting her, riding her, possessing her. Ana whimpered his name, then screamed it. He slid a hand between them and pinched her clit, then stroked it, teasing the little bud of flesh. Her breath froze in her chest—she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe.
The orgasm ripped through her, starting in her womb and rippling outward, spreading through her, filling her. Then Duke buried
his face against her neck. She wailed out his name, just as he whispered—
Her brain didn’t process what he’d said right away. Hard to think when the body was all but wracked with pleasure. But as she drifted back down to earth, the words started bouncing off of each other, back and back, rattling around until finally they connected and made sense.
As he rolled off of her body, she went stiff. He settled on his back but when he reached for her, she jerked back and scrambled down to the foot of the bed. Once she had a few feet between them, she settled back on the mattress and drew her knees to her chest. She licked her lips—her mouth, how had her mouth gotten so dry?
“What did you say?”
Duke stared at her, his lids low over his eyes. “Huh?”
Ana scowled at him. “What did you say to me?”
The muscles in his torso shifted as he pushed up onto his elbows. “I didn’t quite plan for it to come out like that.”
Her heart sank to her knees. Fighting not to cry, she slipped out of the bed and grabbed her T-shirt from the floor.
Duke watched her. She could feel it as he tracked her every last move. When he slid out of the bed, she sensed him approaching even though she couldn’t hear him. Only seconds before he went to put his hands on her shoulders, she stiffened because she knew it was coming.
“You don’t have anything to say?” he whispered, brushing a kiss over her shoulder.
She gave him what she hoped was a casual smile. “There’s nothing to say. People say stupid things all the time and they don’t mean any of them. Don’t worry—I’m not going to hold you to it.”
“Stupid things,” he repeated.
“Hmmm.” She eased up from under his hands and headed to her dresser. She needed a shower. Needed a drink. Needed to get him out of her house before she broke.
But Duke wasn’t too interested in letting her put any distance between them. Even as she tried to slip away, he caged her up against the dresser. “People say stupid things they don’t mean,” he said, echoing her words.
“Yes. Don’t worry about it. Look, I’ve had a rough day. I’m tired, I’ve got a headache and I need a shower.”
Hunter's Need Page 27
