Hunted

by Jo Leigh

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Duh. That’s so old it has mold.”

  Mike grinned. “How about the one with the beating heart?”

  Sam nodded. “Cool. Was it ripped out from someone’s chest?”

  Mike leaned forward. “You'll have to wait and see.”

  Becky curled her legs up in front of her and listened as Mike told Sam The Tell-tale Heart. He did it well, with sound effects and a spooky voice. Sam was caught in his spell, listening wide-eyed and motionless.

  She was caught up, too, but not in the old Poe story. Mike captured her attention. She felt sure, now, that she hadn’t been mistaken. Even though he was more like the old Mike than ever before, there was definitely something wrong. If she’d had to, she doubted she could say just what. It was something in his eyes. In the way he looked at Sam. There was an indefinable sadness about him. As if this would be the last story he ever told.

  He held a secret, she was sure. But secrets had become her enemy. Nothing good had ever come of them. Only hurt. She could be patient, though. Soon, Sam would be off to bed and she could talk to Mike alone.

  When he finished his tale, Sam was delighted. He begged for more, and Mike obliged. She didn’t recognize this one. It didn’t matter. He could have been reading the phone book aloud. Sam was his. Enraptured, captivated. Nothing had ever held his attention like this. Not even his computer.

  By the time the second story was finished, it was nearly ten-thirty. She was still exhausted; her brief naps hadn’t been of much help. “It’s that time,” she said.

  Sam groaned. “No. Another half hour. Please.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Upstairs. I want you in pj’s in five minutes. I'll be up to check.”

  “Do I have to go right to sleep?” He was on his knees, crawling over to the couch. His hands were pressed together under his chin as he pleaded his case.

  She looked into those dark eyes. They seemed to shine, but not from the firelight. It was much deeper than that. He’d been touched by his father tonight. She leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. “You can read. Half an hour. Then it’s lights out.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, then he shot to his feet and raced to the stairs. He came to a screeching halt, turned around and ran back to Mike. “Great stories, Dad,” he said, then he was off again, and this time he made it all the way up to his room.

  “I think he feels better,” Mike said.

  She laughed. “I think you're right. How about you?”

  He seemed surprised by her question. “Me? I'm okay.”

  “Really?”

  The slight hesitation gave him away. He nodded, and said, “Sure.”

  She got up, and went over to where he sat. “Stay right there. I'm going to check on the pajama situation, but I want to talk to you. So you sit still.”

  He nodded without looking her straight in the eye. That convinced her further.

  She hurried upstairs. Sam had managed to get his pajama top on before the lure of his book waylaid him. He only groaned at her twice while he changed the rest of the way. Finally, he was in bed, tucked under the covers. She sat down next to him. “It was fun tonight, huh?”

  He nodded. “I wish it could always be like this.”

  She reached over and ruffled his hair. “It can’t always be like any one thing. But we can sure try to have fun more often.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “He can try, too.”

  “No,” he said, switching his gaze from her face to his hands. “I mean, can’t he come home again?”

  She took a deep breath. No more secrets, she reminded herself. No more lies. “I don’t know honey. I'm not sure he wants to come home. Or even if that would be the best thing. We still have some things to work out.”

  “But after you work them out?”

  “It doesn’t happen that way. All I can promise is that everything will turn out for the best.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That sometimes things happen, and we don’t understand the reason right away. But we have to have faith that whatever comes our way, we'll grow and learn, and be happy.”

  His eyebrows came down and so did the corners of his mouth. “I still want him to come live with us. Why can’t that be the way it turns out?”

  “We'll see.” She leaned forward and kissed his soft cheek. “Half an hour, then lights out.”

  He nodded and grabbed his book.

  Becky got up, reluctant to leave him, but knowing Mike was waiting downstairs. When she got to the door, he stopped her.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?” she said, turning to face him once again.

  “I love you.”

  Warmth, like sunshine on a cold day, filled her all the way to the core. “I love you, too.”

  She left him then, closing the door behind her. She doubted he would last ten minutes, after the day he’d had. In a little while, she would come back up and shut the light.

  She took the stairs slowly. She wanted the glow from his words to last, and something told her that her talk with Mike would be anything but warm.

  He had done as she asked. He was sitting in the chair staring at the fire. It was hard to believe just a few moments ago he’d been animated and dramatic, when he sat so still now. He didn’t even look at her as she reached the floor and walked back to the couch.

  “Mike?”

  He turned to her very slowly. “Yes,” he said.

  The tone of his voice scared her. This was the real ghost story, she thought. That word was spoken by a dead man.

  “I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

  He shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

  The couch was too far away. She got up, and knelt by his chair. When she touched his thigh, she felt him flinch. “Haven’t we done enough harm? You said so yourself. We've kept too many secrets. It’s time to tell the truth.”

  He looked at her then. The light from the fire reflected in his eyes, giving them life. But behind that, nothing. He had gone to that island, that fortress.

  “Don’t throw this away,” she said, grabbing on to his hand. “Don’t you see we've been given a gift. We've got a second chance. If we blow this, if we don’t just plow ahead and face everything, then what was it all for?”

  She wasn’t getting through to him, she could see that. “Please,” she said. “Don’t shut me out. Talk to me, Mike. If I ever meant anything to you, talk to me.”

  “Second chance,” he said, as if the words hurt his mouth. “That’s funny.”

  “Why?” Her heart was beating faster, and she had to fight the urge to get up and run away.

  He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again she could see that something had shifted. It had gone from bad to worse.

  “Mojo has escaped.”

  The breath was knocked out of her. She sat down, hard, on the floor. The thought had crossed her mind earlier, but she’d pushed it away, refusing to think about the real reason they were up here. Now there was no choice. “But I thought he was surrounded. That they had him.”

  “He killed Cliff. And the kid he kidnapped. I don’t know, maybe more.”

  “Cliff?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “That’s right. And it’s not over. It’s just beginning for us. He’s coming. He'll be here. Tomorrow or maybe the day after. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “Then we have to leave.”

  “How? On the snowmobiles? In this?” He nodded toward the door, toward the howling wind.

  “That’s right,” she said. “He can’t get to us. No one could travel in this weather.”

  “No one sane.”

  Still stunned, she got to her feet. Her heart was beating like a jackhammer and it was hard to think straight. She walked over to the curtains. She was afraid to touch them, as if they would burn her fingers, but she did. The night was as black as her fear, a swirling, screaming universe of cold and death. Sam would neve
r make it out there. She let the curtain go, and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Are they sending help?”

  “They're going to try.”

  She heard the resignation in his voice. He didn’t believe help would come. He didn’t believe they would make it.

  “Dammit, there has to be something we can do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Set a trap, barricade the house. I don’t know. Something.”

  He laughed, but it was like no sound she’d heard before. Dark, hopeless, unspeakably weary. Not like Mike at all.

  She went over to the wing chair, and stood in front of him. “I will not let you give up,” she said. “We can beat him. I know we can.”

  “How can you even say that? Haven’t you learned yet that the good guys don’t finish first? That there’s no logic or reason to any of this?” He pushed himself out of his chair to face her. “Terrible things happen to innocent people. Or don’t you remember?”

  He was so close, she felt his breath on her face. But she didn’t flinch or turn away. She made room, somewhere, somehow, for his anger.

  When his breathing slowed and his face softened enough for him to listen, she said, “I know all that’s true. But I don’t care. I know with all my heart and soul that he can’t win. Not against us. We wouldn’t have gone through what we have in the last few days just to die. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Didn’t you hear anything I said?”

  She nodded. “Every word. It doesn’t change a thing. I believe in you. I always will.”

  “Don’t,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everyone who’s believed in me has ended up dead.”

  “Not me.” She grabbed his arms and forced him to look her in the eyes. “Not me and not Sam. We're going to get through this. Together. We have too much at stake to lose now.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped, and closed it again. He shook his head.

  “I've done some thinking about what you said this afternoon.”

  He looked up to the ceiling. “I should have kept my damn mouth shut. What good did it do except hurt you?”

  “No,” she said, praying she could get the words right. “The truth may hurt but it’s not useless. The truth is, I did hate you. I hated the whole world because Amy had to die and I couldn’t stop it. I was so busy hating and being angry that I didn’t take the time to be grateful. That’s what I regret. We had four years with Amy. Four wonderful years. We got to know her laughter and her tears. Her sweet smell and the way she felt in our arms. We got to see her being born, and we got to be there when she left us. Every moment was precious. It still is precious. I have no idea how much time any of us have, but I'll be damned if I'm going to waste one moment of it.”

  Underneath her fingers, she’d felt his muscles grow rigid. He was standing so stiffly that one strong wind would snap him in two.

  She watched him, silently urging him to feel. To care. To fight. Slowly, like ice melting, the muscles of his face softened. “But Cliff,” he whispered. “Gordon.”

  “It’s horrible and sad that they had to die. But it’s not your fault. You dishonor them by taking the blame. They were both good agents doing their job. They laid their lives down for something they believed in. Don’t take that away from them.”

  He tried to hold it together. She watched him struggle to keep still, to not give in.

  Then one tear broke free and fell on his cheek.

  Chapter 14

  Becky wrapped her arms around his neck, gently guiding his head to her shoulder. She held him firmly, rocking him like a child as he wept. She felt his body tremble beneath her hands as he let go of months and years of sorrow. Whispering sounds more than words, she ran her hand down the back of his head. She didn’t know if he heard her voice or felt her touch.

  All that mattered was that he was finally free, that his prison doors had opened. So much pain. Where was the justice, that this good man had to live with such a heavy burden?

  Slowly, slowly, the trembling stopped. She heard him take deep breaths, felt his hands on her back, pressing her closer to him.

  Then he straightened up and she was able to look at him. Grief still streaked his face, but inside his dark eyes she saw a glimmer of hope, of peace.

  She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, the taste of his tears moistening her lips. Then she touched his mouth with her fingers, learning again his soft contours. It wasn’t enough. She kissed him there, gently, like a whisper.

  Taking his hand in hers, she led him away from the fire and all the way to his room. Still she said nothing as she closed the door behind them.

  He didn’t move. He stood by the side of the bed, watching her, his chest expanding slowly with each deliberate breath. The light was too bright overhead, so she turned it off, leaving the small bedside lamp as the only illumination. It was enough, though, to see him clearly.

  She grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it over her head. Her bra was next, then her pants. Finally, she stood before him naked.

  “Becky—”

  She shook her head and moved toward him. “Shh, no more talk.”

  He let her undress him. The sweatshirt first, then his jeans. As she moved down his fly to the lower buttons, she felt him swell beneath her fingers. She would attend to that in a minute.

  Now, she sank to her knees, and untied his heavy boots, slipping them off, followed by his socks and jeans. When she stood, she did it slowly, rubbing her body against his, pressing her breasts to his legs, his thighs, all the way up to his chest.

  There was no mistaking his desire. Her own tightened nipples and the heat between her legs made her want to rush, but she held back. This was a gift, and not to be hurried.

  She touched his chest, tracing the hills and valleys of muscled flesh, the soft hair teasing her fingers. Leaning forward, she kissed his neck, tasting his sweet, faintly salty skin. She ran her tongue down, circling the hard nub of his nipple. He groaned but made no move to touch her.

  She took his arms and moved him backward until the back of his legs hit the bed. He sat. Giving him one brief kiss on the lips, she pressed his shoulders down. When he was laying flat, she climbed up onto the bed, straddling his legs.

  She leaned forward to continue her journey. She felt him, thick and hard, pressing against her stomach. She brought her lips once again to his heated flesh, moving slowly down to his firm stomach. Her kisses followed the arrow of thick hair as it tapered off, and was replaced by thicker, denser hair near the junction of his thighs.

  She closed her eyes, listening to his uneven breathing, smelling his masculine scent, tasting the light sheen of sweat as she went lower still. She touched him first, circling his heat with her palm. He was ready for her now, straining to be inside her, but first, she kissed him.

  His deep moan told her of his pleasure. His hips lifted as she remembered this secret delight, but soon, it wasn’t enough. For either of them.

  Mike reached down and grasped her arms, pulling her up in one smooth motion. He left her on her back, while he turned to his side. Resting on one arm, he looked down at her. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for my life.” Then his mouth was on hers.

  It was his turn to taste, to explore. His hands on her skin were reverent, his sigh was grateful and urgent. He nestled his thighs between hers, and then he sank inside her, filling her in the most intimate of embraces.

  His head went back as he groaned his pleasure.

  She reached around his neck and pulled him closer, only satisfied when she found his lips.

  It was sweet and slow. She’d never made love like this before. Every part of her body was electric, every movement brought a new sensation, each one more intense than the last.

  She gave herself with her whole heart, holding nothing back. No matter what happened, she would be safe in his embrace. Just as Amy lived on, so would their love. The world couldn’t touch this sacred space. When she looked into his eyes, she k
new he was there with her, feeling the same connection.

  She felt her pulse quicken as he thrust into her more deeply. She wrapped her legs around him and he kissed her over and over as he neared his climax. When the moment came, and he couldn’t hold back another second, she held on to him with all her might, straining right on the edge. His cry sent her over, and in that second they were one heart, one breath.

  Mike felt her tremble from her core to her fingertips. He buried himself in her a little deeper, not willing to let go. He looked at her beneath him, sloe-eyed and shining. Her mouth opened slightly and her soft lips curved in a hint of a smile. Powerless to resist, he kissed her again. Her hands moved over his back in slow circles. He was where he belonged.

  Not willing to break the contact between them, he rolled to his side, carrying her with him. He bent his leg and she curled hers around him, so they were still locked in their embrace.

  This is how it felt to be reborn, he thought. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in over three years, he thanked God.

  Becky moved her head, nestling against him with a sigh. He didn’t move for a long time. He tried like hell not to think, either. Just to feel her next to him was enough. When he finally did look down, he saw her eyelids flutter as she gave in to sleep.

  “I love you,” he whispered. “Forever.”

  He was sorely tempted to fall asleep beside her, but he couldn’t. There were things to be done, now, tonight, while he still could move in safety. He would wait, though, until she was sleeping soundly.

  The wind howled outside as the minutes ticked by, and he struggled to keep his mind on Becky. But Mojo crept in between them, slithered into his brain. He was coming. Mike could feel it in his bones. It didn’t matter how bad the weather was, nothing as small as nature could stop him.

  Then he felt Becky’s warm breath on his chest, and he let go. He didn’t want to think anymore. Not about that. He didn’t resist this time, when his eyes shut.

  * * *

  Mike awoke in Becky’s arms. A rush of memories, of countless days when waking up had been a pleasure because she was there, instead of the tortured mornings when the end of sleep meant just another day to get through. Her hair had come out of the tight braid and was wild on the pillow. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.