by Regina Kyle
At her mercy.
She flicked her tongue along the underside of his cock and cupped his balls, teasing them with her fingernails as she worked her mouth over him.
“God, Devin,” Gabe moaned. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”
Her free hand snaked down to her pussy so she could stroke herself in time with his thrusts.
“Shit. I’m going to come.”
He tried to withdraw but she swallowed him deeper and plunged a finger inside herself, only a heartbeat away from exploding.
“I can’t hold back,” he pleaded. “If you don’t stop...”
She released him long enough to answer, echoing words he’d said to her only days before.
“Please.” She raised her eyes to his and was met with a pure, raw hunger she was sure was reflected in her own. “Let me do this for you.”
She didn’t wait for his response, wrapping her fingers around the base of his cock and sliding her lips over his crown. Her fingers moved furiously over her clit, and she came just as he did, swallowing her cries with his come.
“No fair,” he growled as she crawled up his body, exploring with her hands and mouth as she went.
“Seriously?” She settled her head under his chin and curved one leg over his hip, hesitating for a second to wonder when the hell she’d become a cuddler. “You’re going to complain after that?”
She felt him smile against her hair. “Only because I didn’t get to return the favor.”
“I’m sure we can fix that.” She drew slow circles around his nipple with her index finger. “Leo’s not expecting me at the shop until noon.”
“Noon, huh?” He flipped her onto her back and loomed over her, looking like a dark, foreboding angel. “Not nearly enough time for what I’m thinking.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple then moved lower, lower, planting kisses like breadcrumbs until he reached the triangle of hair she left unshaven above her sex. “But I guess I’ll have to make do.”
* * *
“ARE YOU GOING to tell me where you’re taking me, or not?” Devin eyed Gabe, in the driver’s seat next to her, with a raised brow.
“Not.” Gabe’s eyes never strayed from the traffic crowding FDR Drive.
She rested her head against the car window and crossed her arms. It had been two weeks since he’d sprung the whole dress thing on her. Had the man learned nothing?
“You know,” she said, “this could be considered kidnapping.”
“As head of the Special Victim’s Bureau, I feel safe in saying it’s not.”
She frowned. “I told you before, I hate surprises.”
“Trust me.” He merged onto the ramp for the Midtown Tunnel. “You’ll like this one. Just like you liked the museum. And the dress, even if it did take some of my best smooth talking to get you to wear it.”
He had a point. Gabe’s surprises were usually of the welcome variety. Hell, the dress had wound up netting more than it was worth for Turn the Page.
But she still couldn’t help feeling anxious. In her pre-Gabe experience, surprises pretty much always sucked. As in surprise, your dad’s gone. Or surprise, throw your stuff in a grocery bag, you’re moving. Again.
“It must be something big if you got Leo to cut me loose on a Saturday. And hauled your car out of the garage.”
“Leo was very accommodating.” Gabe slowed for the toll. “And it’s too far to take a taxi.”
“Kidnapping,” she muttered, pulling out her iPod and putting in her earbuds. His classical stuff was okay, but the mood she was in now required something with more of a beat. Something she could do a little headbanging to.
About forty minutes and almost all of the Foo Fighters’ Wasting Light later, Gabe shook her shoulder. “We there yet?” she asked, taking out one earbud.
“Almost.” He maneuvered the car off the exit.
She looked out the window. Trees. Grass. Suburban sprawl. They definitely weren’t in Kansas anymore. “Where are we?”
“Long Island.” He turned onto a treelined side street. “Huntington.”
“What’s way out here?”
“You’ll see. Be patient.”
“Not one of my strong suits.”
“So I’ve noticed.” He took his eyes off the road just long enough to shoot her a smartass grin. “But this will be worth the wait. I promise.”
She stowed her iPod in her purse and stared at the neighborhoods whizzing past the window. Freaking McMansions, with perfectly manicured lawns, sculptured gardens and elaborate playscapes.
Exactly the kind of home she’d dreamed of having as a kid.
“Picture perfect,” she muttered. He turned down another street and the houses gradually got smaller, quaint Capes with tidy lawns, unremarkable landscaping and swing sets you could find at Target.
What she would have given for any one of them...
“I’ve never actually been to Long Island.” It was safer revealing that tidbit than reopening her childhood wounds. “If you want to get technical, aside from our little jaunt to Connecticut to see Holly, I’ve never been outside the five boroughs.”
“Really?”
“Really. If the subway doesn’t go there, I don’t go.”
“We’ll have to do something about that. Start small. Maybe a weekend in Vermont next month. My old navy commander has a cabin there we’re welcome to use.”
A weekend? In Vermont? Going away together meant they were getting serious, didn’t it? And she didn’t do serious. Admitting she had feelings for him was one thing. But taking things to the next level? Throwing around words like commitment and forever?
No fucking way. No fucking how.
Devin wrapped her arms around herself, her stomach rolling with fresh nerves. If Gabe was thinking about shit like weekend getaways and lifetime commitment, who knew what was waiting for her at the end of this car ride?
“We’re here.” He pulled to the curb in front of a split-level ranch, shut off the engine and turned to her. “You’re off the hook. For now. But don’t think we won’t revisit this after...”
He paused and swallowed, making his Adam’s apple dance in his throat.
“After what?” She reached for the door handle, stopping short at the sight of a psychedelic orange and green minivan in the driveway. “Who lives here? The Partridge Family? Scooby-Doo and the gang?”
“Follow me and find out.”
He led her up the flagstone walkway and paused at the front door, his finger hovering over the doorbell.
“What are you waiting for?” She balled her hands into fists on her hips. “You’re freaking me out.”
“Sorry.” He pressed the button and a musical chime sounded from inside. With his other hand, he gave her shoulder a squeeze that was probably meant to be reassuring but did little to calm her jangling nerves. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“Then tell me...”
Before she could finish, a woman about Devin’s age in navy blue sweats with a logo over her left breast that read Haven House opened the door. “Gabe, it’s good to see you again. And you must be Devin. We’ve been expecting you.”
“Again?” Devin shot a glance at Gabe. He responded with a shrug. “And who’s we?”
“The boys have been a handful this morning. We don’t see many new faces around here.” The woman stood back and held the door open so they could enter.
Boys? What was this place, some sort of glorified frat house?
“Yeah,” a man who looked to be in his early twenties, dressed in identical blue sweats, piped up from behind the woman. “Especially ones as pretty as yours.”
And what was with the matching outfits?
Gabe put a protective—or was it possessive?—arm around Devin’s waist.
“Down, Pete.” The woman gave him a teasing poke in the ribs. “Can you take Devin and her friend to the screen porch?”
She turned back to Devin. “Victor is waiting for you there.”
“Sure.�
� The man waved his arm for them to follow him and started up the stairs to the main floor. “Come on.”
But Devin stood rooted to the faux marble tile in the entryway, unable to move. Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked up at Gabe.
“You found him?”
Gabe nodded.
“You’re sure?” She held on to the strap of her purse like it was the safety bar on a roller coaster, capable of keeping her from tumbling through space and winding up in a crumpled heap on the ground. “It’s really him?”
She’d run down so many false leads. Had so many close calls, only to end up disappointed. What if this was just one more?
“It’s him. Murphy—my inspector—tracked down Victor’s last set of foster parents. They remembered that the couple who adopted him was from Oyster Bay. It wasn’t hard to trace him from there.”
“Excuse me,” the woman said. “Why don’t you both come upstairs to the living room? You can talk privately there. Pete will take you to Victor when you’re ready.”
Gabe looked questioningly at Devin and she nodded, swiping away tears with her forearm. They followed the woman up the steps to a large, sunlit room with a worn but clean couch, two overstuffed chairs and a TV.
“Make yourselves at home,” she said, already heading down a long hall that Devin assumed led to the bedrooms. “I’ll tell Pete to give you a few minutes.”
Devin sank into one of the chairs. “So this place is...”
“A group home for autistic adults,” Gabe finished, sitting across from her on the couch.
“What about Victor’s adoptive parents?”
Gabe shook his head. “Dead. But they were fairly well off. Set up a trust fund for him to make sure he was taken care of after they were gone.”
Devin closed her eyes and sagged back. She’d had so many questions for them, the chief one being did they know she existed? And if so, did they try to find her? Or let her rot in foster care without a second thought?
Then again, maybe she didn’t want answers. Maybe ignorance really was bliss, or at least less painful.
“So he’s got no one,” she said. “Like me.”
“Not anymore.” Gabe’s voice was low, almost a whisper.
Her eyes flew open. “What if he doesn’t remember me?”
“Here.” Gabe pulled a tattered stuffed animal out of a bag she hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “This might help.”
“Tex.” She blinked. “How did you get this? It was in the drawer next to my bed.”
“Remember that night we thought we ran out of condoms?” A devilish grin stretched across his face.
Oh, yeah. She remembered, all right. He’d taken to stopping by Naboombu when she was working. Then, when her shift was over, they’d go back to her place and do their best to single-handedly keep whoever manufactured Trojans in business. On the night in question, they’d found the box she kept in her lingerie drawer empty. They’d made a game of ransacking her apartment for spare condoms, in between kisses and cuddles.
“I saw it then,” he continued, snapping her back to the present. “I smuggled it out in my briefcase yesterday morning when you were in the shower.”
He held the toy out and she took it, cradling the animal’s faded body to her chest.
“Thank you.” The words seemed so small, so inadequate. But she didn’t have any others.
Pete cleared his throat in the doorway. “Ready to see your brother?”
Devin wiped her moist hands on her skinny jeans and stood. “As I’ll ever be.”
“He’s good today. Talking, making eye contact.” Pete raised a shoulder. “But I don’t know how long it’ll last.”
“Yeah.” She let out a slow sigh, remembering the good days, when Victor made the bus on time, got glowing reports from his teachers and even helped get dinner on the table. And the bad ones, when he’d refuse to get dressed, dump his cereal on the floor and scream and lash out at everything in his path. When nothing Devin did could reach past the invisible wall around him. “I get that.”
She began to follow Pete before she realized Gabe wasn’t behind her. She turned to find Gabe still sitting on the couch, his Sperry-clad foot resting on one knee. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
“No. This is your time with your brother.” He got up and walked over to her, enfolding her in his strong arms.
“But don’t worry.” He spoke into her hair, his lips grazing her scalp. “I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re done. No matter how long it takes.”
He gave her a gentle push and she followed Pete down the hall to a screened-in porch at the back of the house.
“Here we are.” Pete stopped at the doorway. “Just holler if you need anything. I’ll be right here.”
“Thanks.”
Devin took a deep breath and stepped inside. The room was sunny and warm, with comfy, cushioned wicker chairs scattered around. In one of them sat Victor, his head bent over a hand-held computer game.
Even if Devin hadn’t known he’d be waiting for her there, she’d have recognized him immediately. The mop of unruly, dark curls. The scar on his left cheek from when she’d tried to teach him to ride a bike. The way he bit his bottom lip in concentration, just like he had as a kid.
She brushed away a tear and pulled up a chair next to him, close but not so close that she’d startle him.
“Hey, buddy.” She held out Tex. “I brought something for you.”
He didn’t lift his head.
“Look.” She tried again, putting the stuffed animal on his lap. “It’s Tex. Remember him?”
“Tex.” Victor let the computer game fall to his side and reached out a hand to pet the armadillo. “My Tex.”
“That’s right.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “Your Tex. And I’m your sister, Devin.”
He clutched the stuffed animal to his chest and looked up at her, his coal-black eyes filled with the same wonder he’d had as a child. “Devin?”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“Devin always bought me Push Ups from the ice cream truck.”
She swallowed a happy sob, remembering how she’d squirrel away change from the couch cushions to make sure Victor could have his favorite treat at least once a week in the summer. He remembered, too. “I sure did.”
“Can you get me one now?” He bounced in his seat.
Paul, who had obviously been listening on the other side of the doorway, popped his head in. “I don’t know about a Push Up. But we’ve got some rocky road in the freezer. How about I bring you a bowl?”
“What do you say, Victor?” Devin put a tentative hand on her brother’s knee. She said a silent prayer of thanks when he let it stay there.
“Okay.” His eyes met hers for an instant. “But you have to have some, too.”
“Sure, buddy.” She nodded, blinking back tears. “I’d like that.”
16
“YOU WIN.” GABE LAID his cue across the table. “Again.”
“Third scratch in a row.” Cade clucked his tongue. “Dude, you suck tonight. And your mood’s not much better. What crawled up your butt and died?”
“Do you want to play another round or not?” Gabe started to rack up the balls.
“Not. And you didn’t drive all the way up to Stockton just for me to school you at pool. Or to drink the Half Pint’s watered-down beer.” Cade hung his cue up in the rack on the wall next to the jukebox that hadn’t worked since disco was king of the charts. “What gives?”
“Can’t a guy want to spend some time with his best friend?”
“Not when he’s got a smoking hot woman waiting for him back in the city.” Cade leaned on the jukebox. “Unless you screwed that up already.”
“I did not screw it up.” Gabe left the balls where they were and hung his cue next to Cade’s. “I’m giving Devin some space. She’s been spending a lot of time with her brother the past couple of weeks. Reconnecting with him.”
“Space my ass.” Cade slung an
arm around Gabe’s shoulders and commandeered him toward the bar. “You’re preparing yourself for the fall.”
“The what?”
“The fall. The letdown. The end.”
Gabe dropped onto a stool and rested his elbows on the bar. “End of what?”
“Of whatever it is you’re doing with Elvira Mistress of the Dark.” Cade pulled out the stool beside him and sat.
Smacking his so-called friend in the arm, Gabe motioned for the bartender. “I told you to stop calling her that.”
Cade didn’t budge. “Face it, bro. She got what she wanted. Her brother. And now you’re afraid she’s going to cut and run.”
“Whatever, Dr. Phil.”
“Hey, Cade.” The pretty female bartender leaned over the rail, giving them an eyeful of what looked like the world’s biggest man-made breasts spilling out of her low-cut top. She flashed Cade a thousand-watt smile. “Long time no see.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”
Her smile dimmed for a split second before she recovered and ran a hand through her long, equally manufactured, bleach-blond hair. “What’ll it be?”
“Bud for me and a...” He eyeballed Gabe.
“Black & Tan,” Gabe finished.
“Black & Tan for my lovesick friend.” Cade pulled a twenty out of his wallet and slid it across the bar.
Gabe slapped his hand down on the bill before the bartender could grab it. “I’m not lovesick. And this round’s on me.”
“No way.” Cade shook his head. “My hangout. My money.”
“If I let you pay, will you stop psychoanalyzing me?”
“Fat chance.” Cade chuckled. “I’m just getting started.”
The bartender rolled her baby blues at them. “You guys can figure this out while I get your drinks.”
She moved off to the other end of the bar.
“Fine.” Gabe pushed the twenty at his friend. “Then you’re paying for the next round, too.”
Cade smiled and lifted an invisible glass in a mock toast. “Let the analysis begin.”
“I’ve got a better idea. How about we discuss what’s with you and the bartender?”
