“My pleasure.”
They agreed to walk off dinner with a stroll around the deck. The foredeck seemed the best place to go, and was well worth the stairs. Above them the sky was a dark bowl studded with stars. As they stood in the protection of the windbreaks, the air was still and refreshingly cool.
Kip found herself at a loss for words. She wanted to say so many things, none of which she could, and they crowded out every other thought in her head.
She didn’t object when Tam pulled her close. She nestled her ear to Tam’s chest. So comfortable and warm, so familiar, like home.
Tam said softly, “I was thinking that if I kissed you now I wouldn’t be tempted later.”
Kip had to look up at her. “Seriously?”
Her face was in shadow, but she could see lights reflected in Tam’s eyes. “No, I’m lying through my teeth. I’ll want to kiss you later.”
“Please now,” Kip whispered.
Their lips met with the quiet sizzle of starlight, both of them almost still. Then Kip put her hands in Tam’s hair, felt Tam grasping her hips possessively, and the kiss deepened into exploration, not gentle, but not harsh. Intentional, careful and focused. With a shared gasp, there were more caresses in a leaping fever, opening layers of aching in Kip for something she had never known before.
When they parted Kip again put her ear to Tam’s chest, as much for steadiness as for the pleasure of the pounding she heard. She was frightened by how much she wanted to give Tam, and Tam’s racing heart told her that she had some power over Tam as well.
“I think,” Tam said in a low voice, “that it would be best if we said good night now and you went to bed. I’ll wait and join you in a bit.”
Kip nodded and caught herself before she rubbed her cheek against Tam’s breast. All she would have to do was turn her head slightly.
Instead she stepped back. “Good night, Tam.”
“Good night…Pippa.”
It did make Kip laugh and she retreated to the cabin, more than a little dizzy and parts of her sodden beyond any experience in her life.
She brushed her teeth, changed into a T-shirt and put her beautiful new earrings on the bedside table. She tried to only take a third of the bed, but her body felt swollen and awkward.
Sleep was impossible.
* * *
Tam doubted she would sleep a wink. She was tempted to find a chair in one of the lounges to see if she could doze. Maybe a shot of whiskey would calm her nerves. Or eight or nine. In the end it was weariness and the hope of at least a few hours of rest that made her decide to see if Kip was asleep.
She moved about the cabin stealthily, leaving the bathroom light on because without it the room was almost pitch-black. She quickly changed into a T-shirt, brushed her teeth, washed her face, hung up her clothes, and couldn’t think of another thing to do. So she switched off the light and managed to crawl into bed without stubbing her toe in the dark or making contact with Kip’s body.
Kip’s breathing was steady. She hadn’t moved at all. Tam suspected she was awake. The ship’s motion rocked the bed gently from side-to-side, and that ought to have lulled her into at least some kind of calm.
Instead, the dark was her undoing.
“Kip…” She said it softly. She simply meant to say “It’ll be okay. You can sleep.” It started out that way, but she only got as far as, “It’ll be…”
Kip stirred.
Crossroads, Tam realized. Rules only mean something if you follow them, even when no one is looking. Kip was a capable, honest, principled woman and if she touched Kip right now they’d be officially lovers in thirty seconds. It would cost Kip twice over—her self-respect and the respect she held for the woman Tam no longer recognized, Tamara Sterling, CEO. That it would cost her her own self-respect didn’t matter as much to her. This was bad for Kip.
“Are you okay?” Kip’s whisper held concern, but was at a pitch that Tam didn’t think Kip realized was a tantalizing half-purr.
Her fingers twitched. She wanted to feel the velvet of Kip on her hands, her lips. Anything was preferable to hurting Kip and that’s what her touch would do.
She had a diversion to offer and so she asked, “You’ve heard of David Koresh, right?”
* * *
Kip wasn’t sure she’d heard Tam correctly. “Who hasn’t?”
“Koresh was another of those breed-my-own-cult, not the first, not the last, unfortunately. But I bet you’ve never heard of David Halley…hang on.”
Tam sat up and the bedside lamp came on, leaving Kip blinking.
“I’ve never told anyone about this,” Tam said slowly. “I don’t really know how to go about it. It seems a ridiculous thing to hide but honestly, it was a good idea then, and I think is still a good idea. Thing is, you found holes in my citizenship paperwork. Those holes used to be filled. I presume the hacker did that. But if it had been left alone, you’d have never known there were questions to ask. I doubt I would have ever told you.”
“Why is it such a secret? So you were born in Germany. So maybe you don’t know who your parents are—”
“I wasn’t born in Germany. That’s the cover. I was born in a wide space in the road in Pueblo County, Colorado. At the time, it was known as House of Zion City. Long gone—never really was a real place on the map.”
Kip brushed hair out of her eyes. She’d listened to Tam getting ready for bed and steeled herself to feign sleep for however long it took. She hadn’t really expected Tam to decide that it was the right time to fill her in on those mysterious blanks in her background. Now she pieced together what she knew, which wasn’t much. “I guess I assumed that you were being hidden. I don’t know from what, but the timeframe was when the Berlin Wall fell. I guessed it was political or something.”
“There was so much confusion over records after the consolidation of the two countries that I think they took advantage of that. But we—me, Nadia, about twenty-five children in all—were moved out of Colorado after David Halley’s family had the tent town destroyed. That was his parents and two brothers who did that—the real family and apparently one with a lot of money. We weren’t real family, but we surely were an embarrassment.”
Kip scooted back so she could lean on the pillows, the sheets pulled up over her breasts. Tam was so calm about it and yet if she was talking about what Kip thought she was, that was weird and terrible. “Halley—had he died?”
“Killed himself before the local sheriff could haul him in for child abuse, tax evasion, welfare fraud, bigamy… I only remember that police cars pulled up and all the mothers were scared.”
“And that left a lot of children with no…father?”
“A lot of children with no father and a bunch of brainwashed women all claiming to be his wife. My mother was fourteen when I was born. She died in the process, or that’s what I was told. Nadia’s was twenty-four or twenty-five at the time of the raid. They’ve never located each other again. Like I said, there was money. Lots of it. The mothers signed us away in what I’m sure wasn’t any kind of legal agreement and they probably got a nice chunk of change to start a new life. But we were all too young to protest or even be sure what was happening. Life wasn’t great, then it got a lot better. I was grateful.”
Kip didn’t even know where to start. “Are you telling me that Nadia and you weren’t…”
Tam gave her a wan smile. “You thought we had been together?”
Kip nodded.
“That rumor never quits. No, we were never lovers. Eww.” Tam let out a long sigh. “But we are half-sisters. Nobody but us knows that. I suppose it gives us a certain air of intimacy that people misinterpret. Mercedes probably thinks that’s why I always take her calls.” Tam repositioned so she was sitting cross-legged under the covers.
Kip said, trying not to let her tone rise too much, “What a horrible thing to do to a bunch of kids. Separate them from their mothers after they’d already been traumatized.”
“Yes. And no. Some o
f them were as crazy as he was. And a few more were broken—hardly functional. Others were children in their heads and never grew up. I was just a kid, but looking back, I don’t know if there was a fit parent among them.”
“If yours was alive, wouldn’t you want to find her?”
Tam stared down at her hands. “I have to tell you that this is the most I’ve thought about any of it in years. I guess—if she was alive I’d have probably tried to find her. Whatever agreement she signed wouldn’t have been binding on me. But it’s moot. Nadia never said she was looking for her mother and I think she would have told me. She was younger than I was. Fortunately we were both “not ripe” as that crazy man put it. There were a couple girls, just a bit older than me who’d been turned into wives.”
“Oh my God,” Kip said. She touched Tam’s hand, just for a moment. “I am so sorry. What an awful, awful thing. And I understand why you really don’t want to talk about it. I can see some people getting obsessively fascinated by the whole thing.”
“Who wants to be a Wikipedia article like that? Not me. The Halley family gave us a good education. I got a new name and an orphan’s bio. If I finished college I would get a bonus. My life was turning out pretty good.”
Kip connected that dot. “The Maldives money?”
“You guessed it. I should give it away to a shelter or something.”
“What were you called before Tamara, then? Do you remember—never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”
“It’s okay. Rebekkah. They made our first names our middle names.”
Kip decided not to say that she thought it did suit her, but she liked Tamara better. “You never have nightmares? I think I would.” She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have a nightmare later anyway. The cruelty of such a sick man using all those teenaged girls to build his own little cult was inhuman. How could Tam be so calm talking about it?
“I did have nightmares for a while, but once I got to boarding school and started learning, they stopped. My mind was finally occupied. We’d only read the Bible. I used to know chapter and verse. But I did really well in boarding school, learned fast, then tested high for science and math and here I am. I always felt blessed for having been rescued.”
“His parents are lucky they haven’t had grandchildren showing up on their doorstep,” Kip said.
“Maybe they have. They are very good at keeping things quiet.”
There was a long silence, then Kip said softly, “Thank you. I will not tell a soul. I promise you that.”
Tam nodded. “I know.”
“Do you think that’s why you do what you do?” Tam’s father, after all, had been a coward—victimizing defenseless girls and then killing himself to escape the mess he’d made. She hoped he’d ended up in the burning hell she was sure he imagined existed—it was what he deserved.
“What?”
“Well—he evaded justice. You make sure some people finally get some justice.”
Tam’s eyes clouded and her face stilled. “I never thought of that. I don’t think I want to see myself as doing anything in relation to him, certainly not my life’s work as a form of rebellion.”
“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry,” Kip said quickly. “That was thoughtless of me.”
“No, you’re probably right.” Tam’s eyes rimmed with red. “It’s pretty obvious that your father shaped a part of you.”
“Absolutely. And I like who I am. But I’m not going to be grateful to his alcoholism for that. I hate everything it’s done to him and my sister and mom, too.”
Tam bit her lower lip. “I just—he was never my father. He doesn’t even get enough status in my life to be worthy of rebellion against him.” She gave an unamused laugh. “I’m not sane because he was crazy.”
Kip felt so helpless. “Your mother must have been from an amazing line of women because you certainly didn’t get your strength and intellect from him.”
“I’ve tried so hard not to let it matter.” Tam’s voice broke and Kip wanted in the worst way to hold her. “It was all a long time ago. It’s almost a dream. It’s not about who I am.”
Tam drew herself up and though tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes, they didn’t spill over. “You’re right, the women in my family must have been strong.”
“I’m sorry I asked about it, and pushed.”
“I know why you did. Those holes weren’t supposed to be there for you to see.”
The silence stretched long enough to be awkward. Kip sensed that if she offered to hold Tam, Tam would agree. But her rigid posture and faraway look weren’t asking for comfort. Kip could almost hear her thinking that she had gotten through life on her own and wasn’t about to start getting weepy on someone now.
Kip slid back down into the bed and adjusted her pillow. “Do you think you can sleep?”
“Even if I can’t, it’s fine.” Tam quickly turned off the light. “The dark is restful. It’ll be okay.”
Oddly reassured by the rocking motion of the ship, Kip was glad to find herself drowsy. She was aware of Tam but she didn’t ache the way she had earlier. She felt inside Tam’s life in a way she hadn’t expected or believed in and for the first time in days, sex was not simmering right below the surface. She felt…trusted.
She woke once in the night to feel Tam snuggled against her back. She burrowed until she could hear Tam’s steady, slow breathing and went back to sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
Kip stirred in the wee morning hours to find herself still in the circle of Tam’s arms. The heat of Tam’s body was not bringing out feelings of safety and comfort, however, and Kip slipped away to visit the bathroom and school herself into a professional frame of mind. Today they hoped to finally have a concrete piece of evidence in their possession that proved someone other than Tam was involved in the embezzlement. She needed her instincts at their sharpest.
She also couldn’t forget why she was here. And who she was. The dim display of her watch said they would be docking in two hours. She knew Tam wanted to be among the first to leave.
When this was all over, when the FBI was satisfied, and any rumors quashed by the truth, SFI still wouldn’t allow for relationships between employees. Tam couldn’t enforce a rule she didn’t follow herself. So whether she was part of Tam’s life, what she could have, according to the rules, was something she couldn’t live with. She didn’t want to be a mere friend. She didn’t want Christmas cards and birthday gifts and “how have you been” a couple of times a year because they didn’t dare see each other more often.
Her image in the bathroom mirror shimmered as her eyes filled with tears. Yippee, Meena would think it hilarious. Kip Barrett had finally lost her distance and over someone she couldn’t have.
Finally feeling a little more calm, she went back to bed, not sure if she should wake Tam yet. It was moot, however. Tam stirred and pulled her close again, but it wasn’t to sleep. She trembled as they fell into a long, slow kiss, the first of several. She should have said stop, should have rolled away, should have gone in search of an early breakfast.
She didn’t do any of those things. Instead, she let Tam pull her on top for more kisses, for caresses. She felt like a candle, her edges soft and melting and a flame burning inside. She wanted to feel Tam’s naked skin. Nothing had changed, but her heart and body were taking charge.
She was breathless and dizzy with desire when Tam finally pulled her close, hands no longer stroking her thighs and back.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse. “One bed, bad idea.”
“We start disembarkation in about ninety minutes,” Kip whispered. She desperately cast about for a reason to make her heart and body obey her.
Well, there was the truth—at least part of it.
“We have something really very extremely important to do and I would like a shower and breakfast before we disembark.”
“Know what? You’re always hungry.”
Kip wasn’t about to admit that being in lust was very ti
ring. She ran her hand along the wall above the head of the bed until she found the light switch.
Tam flung a hand over her eyes. “Warning next time?”
“Sorry.” Kip had thought that Tam’s revelations would show, but she still looked like Tam. A little puffy around her eyes, but the same face, same brow, same mouth…
Tam peered at her through her fingers. “You have no right to look like that.”
“Like what?”
“Edible.”
“Oh.” Kip flushed.
Tam moved her hand from her eyes, blinking at Kip. “And I know that was a good line and I ought to go back to kissing you, but…”
“But you know it’s not a good idea.”
“No,” Tam said seriously. “You’re on my bladder.”
Kip found herself tumbled unceremoniously to one side and she was left laughing into the pillows. When Tam emerged, she said, “Keep your distance.”
“You wound me.” Tam gave her a slow, open smile that dazzled Kip’s eyes. Clearly, some care had washed away.
“That’s what I mean. Stop that.” Kip pulled her knees up to her chest, hoping to look a little less edible even though just about all of her was tingling at the compliment. “We do need to see to that really very extremely important something, and now isn’t the time to forget all that.”
“I know,” Tam said. She leaned against the tiny vanity, her legs crossed at the ankles.
Kip was deciding how long it would take to kiss her way up those legs when Tam coughed. She felt herself blush again. “Breakfast.”
“And showers.” Tam didn’t move.
“Don’t make me be the one who has to find all the willpower.”
She shifted into action at that. “You’re right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why don’t I shower?” Kip scrabbled under the bed for her suitcase, not sure what the professional woman wore in Nassau. Whatever it was, she didn’t have it. The suit she’d been wearing when they’d left Seattle was a wool blend. She’d last two minutes.
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