by Lisa G Riley
“Stop,” Lily said.
Smith looked at her in surprise. “You recognize someone?”
“No, but that big man’s coat and hat match the gear that Kip described to me a couple of days ago. He probably told you the same thing. Remember? He said the man wore a Fedora and a long, wool coat.”
Having had the same thought, Smith nodded as he studied the screen. He could barely see the man’s face because of the Fedora, but it was a start, and the man’s partner’s face was quite clear. “Yeah, I do.” He turned to the security guard. “Would you mind printing out a copy?”
Chapter Twenty-two
December 19, 1995
He heard her on the trellis and pulled the covers back to get out of bed and help her in. He’d been expecting her for the past hour because he’d known once she’d heard the news she’d come running to him. He went to climb out of bed but fell back with a moan when it felt like the world was rushing around him. The flu had kicked his ass.
He heard the window open. “Smith?”
His head lolled weakly on the pillow as he turned it to look towards the sound of her voice. “Careful, Lily. That trellis must be pretty slippery.” His eyes widened when she climbed inside. “Where’s your coat, Lily-bud! And your boots?” he asked after looking at her feet. She had on canvas sneakers, jeans, a turtleneck and a sweater. There was at least two feet of snow on the ground.
Lily pulled off her wet shoes and socks and padded over to the bed. “Scootch over, Smith,” she said in a stifled voice.
He made room for her and she climbed in to lie in front of him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered into the top of her head. “Don’t, Lily. You know I can’t stand it.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said in a tear-clogged voice. “I just came to see how you’re doing. How’s your fever?”
“It’s going to be okay,” he said with a squeeze. “My moving away doesn’t mean we won’t see each other again.”
She nodded and pulled his arm tighter around her and took his hand in hers. “I know. Promise me we’ll always be friends.”
“Course we will,” he murmured sleepily. “Best buds forever.” He felt her press a kiss to his fevered brow and smiled at the cooling touch just as he was drifting off.
December 18, 2011
Smith sat on the window seat and studied Lily as she moved restlessly beneath the covers. A frown marred her brow, even in sleep. Her coloring was off and she looked too fragile amongst the pillows and bedding, her bare arm somehow looking more slender and the shoulder he could see, bonier. They’d ended up spending another night in Chicago thanks to the police and a ridiculously long wait at the hospital. They both had been too tired to undertake the drive back the night before, but had gotten an early start that morning. Thanks to the pain medication she’d gotten at the hospital for her broken finger, Lily had either been tired or sluggish for the past eighteen hours or so. He’d brought her home and put her to bed. Now he stood watching her and contemplating what he’d do if he ever ran into the bastard who’d hurt her.
His gaze landed on her hand and he scowled from empathy and anger. The splint looked garish and out of place on her slender hand. The doctor had said it was a clean break, but when she’d had to put the broken bone back in place, Lily’s blood-curdling scream and subsequent faint had angered and terrified Smith. Helplessly, he’d caught her as she’d slumped against him, his upset so evident that the doctor had offered him a sedative.
The man’s efforts to crush her hand had resulted in bruises coloring her skin from the wrist to the tip of every finger. There was more skin bruised than not, and Lily found it difficult to move her hand without pain. “Damn thing looks like a fucking medieval torture device,” Smith muttered as he studied the splint. It was a metallic gray and covered three of her fingers -- the broken ring finger and the two surrounding it -- so that only the tips poked out. Made of a kind of rigid plastic, it held the fingers stiff and straight and wrapped around her palm to end at her wrist. It was held in place by Velcro.
He sighed and looked at his watch. The Bears game would be on soon. He wanted to watch it, but couldn’t make himself leave her there alone. When he’d heard her yelling his name in such a terrified voice at the museum the day before, he’d experienced several emotions at once. There was fear; there was panic and there was a fierce desire to protect at all costs. All of those things had brought him out of his seat and running toward the sound of her voice before he’d been aware of actually moving. The sight of her stunned eyes and tear-streaked face as she headed in his direction had neatly gutted him. He hadn’t been sure of his control until he’d had her in his arms.
“Smith?” Her voice was slurred and sleepy and Smith rose to go to her.
She smiled when she saw him and lifted her injured hand palm out toward her face. “‘Live long and prosper,’” she said weakly.
It startled a grin out of him, but also made him realize that he was being too dour because she was obviously trying to cheer him up. “‘Peace and long life.’” Separating his fingers between the ring and middle fingers and stretching out his thumb, he gave her the true Vulcan salute.
“Show-off,” Lily murmured as she snuggled down in the bed. She sounded like she was already going back to sleep.
Smith sat on the bed near her hip and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Hey, you need anything? Hungry?”
Lily smiled and moved her cheek against his hand. “Uh-uh, no thanks.” She took his hand in her good one. “Don’t worry so much, cowboy. I’m all right. Now I know to be more mindful of my surroundings even when they’re ridiculously distracting.”
Smith nodded pensively. “Good idea. Want me to lie down with you?” he asked her. He wanted to hold her, but was afraid to because he couldn’t get the idea of her fragility out of his mind. He thought she might want to be held and since he was at a loss as to what to do for her, but needed to do something, he offered, thinking that she needed comforting. He’d never felt so impotent in all his life.
She chuckled. “Cut it out, Smith. You know good and well you’d rather be watching the Bears game -- even though they’ll probably get their asses kicked as they have for the past three games. Who knew one man’s broken thumb could make a bunch of grown men fold like a bad poker hand?”
He laughed, once again surprising himself. “Cut them a break. The entire team depends on the quarterback. Though I admit; they shouldn’t be so fuckin’ lost without him. There’s one consolation, though: at least there’s no chance of them getting fucking Tebowed again. God, I hate that term!”
“Don’t hate just ‘cause Jesus obviously loves him best,” Lily said drowsily as her eyelids slowly blinked once…twice and finally just shut.
Chuckling and feeling a slight easing of the anger and agony that had help him in their combined grip for the past twenty-four hours, Smith kissed her forehead and stood, suddenly deciding that watching the game sounded like a splendid idea.
Lily stretched awake and then snuggled down beneath the thick comforter again, burrowing one arm underneath so her good hand could grab at the covers and pull them up to her chin. She smiled, feeling as if she could walk among the living again. Turning her head, she looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table. Four o’clock. She’d gotten at least four hours of sleep uninterrupted by pain, and was glad of it. Lying still, she assessed her pain level and finding it low, she gave a nod of satisfaction.
She allowed herself one last snuggle before tossing the covers back and getting out of bed. She looked down at herself. All she wore was a black tank and matching low rise panties. A wave of heat washed over her and her knees went weak as she remembered that Smith had put her to bed. He’d stripped her down to her skivvies and poured her between the sheets. “God bless Texas cowboys who take worrying to a high art,” she murmured, as she vaguely remembered waking up more than once to find him sitting on her window seat looking out for her.
She heard
a sound come from downstairs and cocked her head. Her television was on and it was playing a football game. She allowed herself a slight anticipatory smile; totally unsurprised that he’d stayed over. Yearning awakened like a patient wild thing in her stomach and slowly, she walked from the room to make her way down the stairs.
He heard her coming, and engrossed in the game, said, “You should be in bed, Lily-bud. If you need anything, let me get it,” he finished without taking his eyes off the television. “Feeling better? You hungry?” She didn’t answer, but the cushion beside him dipped from her weight.
Facing him, Lily sat on her haunches and being careful of her injury, wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Smith lifted his hand to caress her arm. She nuzzled his head with her nose, breathed him in and bending her neck a little farther, took the lobe of his ear between her teeth. “Smith.”
Smith cocked a brow, his entire body on full alert. She didn’t just say his name, she breathed it and he shivered from the heat. “Sweetness.”
Lily licked his ear and planted kisses behind it, the hunger she felt for him threatening to overwhelm her. “I’m horny,” she said between soft, wet kisses.
Her voice was still breathy and he heard the strain of sexual tension beneath it. He turned his head, got a good look at her and narrowed his eyes to see what he could see. Heavy-lidded, but -- and this was key -- pain-free eyes. Sleep-tousled hair. Gorgeous, full lips.
He reached out to push some of her hair behind her ear, smoothing it over her shoulder where he caressed the soft, firm skin. Angling in to suck briefly at her lips, he asked, “How horny?”
“Very,” she whispered, and leaned harder against him, pushing her breast against his arm so that her nipple hardened and poked his arm. Her breath caught and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “Extremely.”
Smith felt her breath blowing softly against his neck and growling low in his throat, tunneled his fingers through her hair to pull her head back. His mouth covered hers and he aggressively took what he wanted until they were both straining to catch their breath. Her eyes were closed now and he bent to kiss her eyelids before sliding his hand underneath her T-shirt to stroke the supple skin of her back. He smiled when she moaned low in her throat.
He continued to explore her body, taking his hand over sleep warmed skin. The fingers of one hand tweaked and pinched her nipples while the large palm of his other hand covered her stomach and his fingers stroked her vagina through her panties. She was soaking wet. He pressed gently, yet urgently, making her squirm and whimper, “Please, Smith.” She grabbed hold of his wrist with desperate fingers to hold him steady while she tightened her thighs around his hand, rolled her hips and rode his fingers.
He watched her try to find her pleasure and took his hand downward until he could slip his fingers beneath the leg of her panties from behind. He kneaded her butt cheek, his long fingers plying her skin skillfully. He took his finger over the line between her cheeks over and over again until she was squirming and pushing her ass into his palm. “Poor baby,” he crooned as he continued to stroke her mound, “tell me what you want.”
“You,” she sighed, “just you,” she finished breathlessly before she opened her mouth to greedily accept his plunging tongue. She sucked it into her mouth and released his wrist to fist her hand in his hair to bring him closer.
Smith kissed her one last time before lifting his head. As he gently fondled her clit between two fingers, he watched her face flush as her breathing accelerated, watched her eyes go opaque as her pleasure increased. “More?” he asked against her mouth, right before he devoured it with his own.
Frantically, Lily nodded as she pumped her hips against his hand. She felt him pulling at her legs and eagerly let him adjust her body until he had her where he wanted her --stretched out with her thighs laying across his thighs while she lay back on the couch. He tugged at her panties to pull them off and she bent her legs so he could pull them down and completely off. She watched in agonized desire as he lifted them to his face and after sniffing them, sucked the crotch into his mouth.
She cried out and squirmed, her naked bottom rubbing against his jeans and the fabric of the sofa. “Oh, God, Smith,” she moaned, “hurry!”
Tossing the panties aside, Smith looked down at her with eyes that burned bright with want. Slowly he slid his hand up her thigh and she widened them, praying to feel his fingers deep inside. Ecstasy exploded within her when he slipped two fingers inside her and pressed her clit at the same time. She went off like a rocket as heat rushed from every part of her body to coalesce in that one spot where he was so skillfully working his magic. Overwhelmed and feeling like she was drowning in the heat, Lily screamed and bucked against his hand.
Opening her eyes at half-mast a few moments later, she smiled at him. He was looking at her as he rubbed her thigh. Making sure to be careful of her hand, she turned on her side toward him, bending her knees for optimum comfort. Smith simply transferred his ministrations to the curve of her hip and her behind.
“Mmm,” she moaned huskily, “that feels good,” she told him and languidly moved against his hand. “Do you have a condom?”
“Is that a rhetorical question? I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
She grinned and reached out to lovingly trace his lips. “Put it on, then.”
He winced and looked uncertain, but continued to caress her, subtly, but inexorably, heightening her arousal.
“What?” she asked.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me? It’s my finger that’s broken, not my --”
“I just want to be careful with you.”
“You can’t hurt me, Smith. I want to feel you inside me. Please.”
He bent to kiss her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He slid his arms beneath her thighs and lifted and turned her so her back was flush against the back of the sofa. He joined her, stretching out in front of her and lifting her arm with the injured hand, placed it on top of the sofa.
“That should keep it out of harm’s way,” he murmured. After unzipping his pants and letting his cock spring free through the slit in his boxers, he slipped the condom on and putting his hand on her thigh, lifted it and placed it so that the bend in her knee was embracing his hip. He pressed closer and with his hands at her waist, kissed her gently. “Just let me take care of you, okay?”
She nodded and then caught her breath when he slid his cock smoothly inside. As always, his possession of her body left her completely defenseless and weakened her to such an extent that she felt lost and vulnerable within her own body. She threw her head back and shut her eyes at the feel of his body continually joining with hers, making them one.
“Look at me, sweetness,” he commanded softly, and she opened her eyes to find him looking tenderly, but fiercely at her. “You’re mine, you know? Always have been, always will be.”
Tears filled her eyes and she nodded and helplessly wrapped her arm around his neck. “Ah, Lil,” she heard him chide softly, “I told you that I’d take care of you. You weren’t supposed to move that arm.”
She kissed his neck. “Hush. I like it much better this way,” she told him and cried some more as he rocked them gently to completion. Loving him as she did, there wasn’t much else she could do.
Chapter Twenty-three
Lily shivered and burrowed closer to Smith, who grabbed the throw from the back of the sofa and covered them up. “Thanks.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You’re welcome. So, what do you think about adding Ramirez to our list of suspects?”
“I think we have to, seeing as how it’s likely he’s the one who sicced those goons on me at the museum.”
“Yeah, that’s the most likely scenario and if it proves true then it means he was lying about the diamond.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“But then there’s also the possibility that they’ve been following us all along,”
Smith said.
“Could have been one of several people: Kip, Winscoff and Tam for starters.” There was one more person he could have added to the list, but he wanted to ruminate on the possibility some more.
Lily sighed. “This is making my head hurt, and besides, we need to shower if we’re going to make it to Mom’s and Dad’s for Sunday dinner. You’re planning to come, aren’t you?”
“Yes, if you’re going, but I’m surprised you want to go.”
“Why? Because of my hand? I might as well get it all the remonstrations and told-you-sos about my choice of profession over with,” she told him after he’d nodded. “I can’t hide it from them, and I promised my mom Sunday dinners for the foreseeable future.” She gave him a one-handed soft shove to the chest. “Up you go.”
Smith rose and helped her stand. “I’m liking the new wardrobe choice, sweetness.”
She frowned at him. “I’ll just bet you are. What’d you do with my panties, anyway?”
Smith retrieved them. “Aw, will you look at that? They’re all wet,” he said in mock sympathy. “Guess you’ll have to traipse up the stairs naked…in front of me…at least by two feet.”
Lily snickered at the striving-for-innocence-but-failing-spectacularly expression on his face and reached for the blanket.
He snatched it up before she could. “Ah-ah. I’m afraid this is a no-no, too. You’ll have to run now if you don’t want to catch cold.”
Lily burst out laughing. “You are such a freak! Give me the blanket.”
