Over the Line: On the Run Novel

by Lisa Desrochers

  I look at him with those eyes now … and, God, he’s beautiful.

  The fact that a man who is the embodiment of control has given it so totally up—the fact that in the six days he’s been here, he’s never once tried to break free or even suggest that I leave him untied—makes me realize just how serious he is.

  I love you, Lee. I have for a long time.

  The look in his eyes as he said that, deep and sincere; the fact he used my real name instead of his nickname—all the gamesmanship is gone. He’s pulled off the mask and shown me the man underneath.

  I recognize that man. He’s the Oliver I left laying in the tangle of sheets all those nights. If I hadn’t been so caught up in my vendetta, I would have seen he’d laid the player aside months before I double-crossed him.

  I close my eyes and breathe out a sigh. What started out as something forbidden and a little dangerous has turned into the only thing in my shattered life that matters. I never expected that I’d feel this way. I never wanted to. But I can’t bury my feelings anymore.

  He is everything to me.

  When I open my eyes and lift them to Rob, sitting silently in the corner, I find his gaze studying my face.

  I move past the door to the bathroom before he can read too much. It’s dark and I don’t turn on the light. For a long time I sit on the toilet, trying to settle my whirring mind and pounding heart.

  I still can’t see how this is going to end well. Rob seems on board with keeping Oliver alive for now, but he’s right. We can’t do this forever. And if Oliver’s family is trying to find him …

  When I’ve been in here long enough that I know Rob must be starting to wonder if I fell in, I wash up and go back to the door of my room.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep,” I say. “I’m awake anyway. I’ll take watch.”

  He tents his fingers and taps them against his chin. “You’re sure you’re up to this?” he asks with a nod at Oliver.

  I scowl down at him. “It’s been a week and he hasn’t escaped on my watch yet.”

  He stands and comes to the door, planting his hand on the frame next to my shoulder. “I’m still not wrapping my mind around why you kept him here that long without telling anyone.”

  “Because I knew you’d react exactly the way you did,” I say, tossing a hand at him. “If I hadn’t come in when I did, we’d have a corpse on our hands instead of a prisoner.”

  “And we’d be safe,” he says.

  “I believe him. He didn’t bring any weapons or men. He’s not hunting us.”

  He shoves off the doorframe and grasps my arm, shaking me. “I don’t. The prick’s gotten into your head. He manipulates. That’s all he knows.”

  I yank out of his grasp. “Just like all you know is to intimidate and terrorize?”

  I realize I crossed a line when his golden eyes cloud. He hauls a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “I thought we’d left all this behind.” He lowers his head and rubs his eyes. “I was just coming to terms with the fact that we can’t go back, and then our past shows up on our doorstep, reminding me of everything this family has given up.” He lifts his head and glances at Oliver. “There’s still a huge part of me that’s having trouble letting go. But I have every reason to want to stay now.”

  “Adri.”

  He grasps the hair on top of his head. “If this means we have to go, I can’t ask her to come with us. Her family is here. Her life. I can’t ask her to give that up. But …” His hand rubs down his face. “I’m not sure I can leave her behind either. She’s made me into something I think Mom would be proud of. I’m a better man when I’m with her.”

  I glance toward my sleeping lover. “So prove it. Don’t kill him.”

  “What’s the alternative, Lee? How do you see this ending?”

  “I don’t know!” I hiss, then hang my head. “What are we going to do?”

  “I think Savoca knows more than he’s letting on. I don’t necessarily buy that Jimmy D holds our contract. He’s not smart enough to pull something like this off on his own. But if he was talking to the hit man, that could be a lead. I need to know if that was all bullshit or the truth. I’ll do whatever it takes to find out.” He glances at Oliver. “He’s going to tell us everything he knows.”

  The menace in his voice sends a cold shiver fingering up my spine. “I thought you didn’t trust him.”

  He gives me a wary eye. “I don’t.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “The only part I believe of what he’s saying is that he’s here rogue. You’ve had him tied up with no outside contact for a week. If his men were here on the island or knew where he was, they’d have stormed in here after him at some point. We get his information, then”—he nods toward Oliver—“we take care of the problem. If my theory is true, no one in Chicago will be the wiser.”

  My insides settle into a pool of despair around my feet when I realize there’s nothing I can offer to change Rob’s mind, leaving a sucking hole where my heart once was. “Didn’t you just tell me you wanted to be someone Mom could be proud of … someone who deserves a woman like Adri?”

  His hand tightens on the doorframe as his expression darkens. “I can’t see another way out of this.” He turns for his room and disappears through the door.

  I stand here for a minute after he’s gone, trying to see something other than the end Rob has envisioned. I can’t let Oliver die because he came here to find me. I can’t let him die because he loves me. I close the door and move to the chair. I ache right down to my soul with the tension of the day. How did everything spiral so out of control?

  “Well, that went well.”

  I look up at the emerald glint of the moonlight in Oliver’s eyes. He holds a hand out to me. “Come here, Cheetah. Let me turn that frown around.”

  “He didn’t tie you?” I ask as I move toward him.

  He shrugs. “I think he was hoping I’d try something so he’d have an excuse to shoot me.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed and lift the T-shirt. Thankfully, his wound has stopped bleeding. I trace my fingers over the edges of his bandages. Goose bumps pebble his skin under my touch.

  He grimaces as he pulls himself up to lean against the headboard.

  “Did he hurt you?” I whisper into the still of a sleeping house.

  He leans his forehead against mine and answers in a low tone, “Not as bad as you did.”

  I can’t look in his eyes. “I still can’t believe I didn’t kill you. You had an angel on your shoulder that day.”

  “I’m not talking about when you shot me,” he says, cradling my cheek in his warm palm. “I’m talking about when you left me.”

  A ball of emotion creeps up my throat and it’s a minute before I can speak.

  “When did this turn into something real?” I murmur, waving a hand between us as another tear courses down my face. “I hated you and your family for what you did to my mother, and then all of a sudden I’m dead inside without you.”

  His features soften in the moonlight. He kisses me slowly, then draws back. “When you forgave me.”

  More tears spill onto my cheeks when I realize he’s right. Somewhere in those months, my heart recognized he’s not his father. What happened to my mother was no more his fault than every horrible thing my father’s ever done being mine. My head just took longer to catch up to that fact.

  He slides over and pats the mattress next to him. I pull myself up so we’re shoulder to shoulder against the headboard and rest my elbows on my bent knees.

  “If I’m honest, I think was in love with you well before the night we hooked up in the library. I loved the thing you do with your hair when you’re concentrating.” He shakes his head and glances to where I have the hair on top of my head balled into my fist. “And the way your shoes never lasted long on your feet—how they always ended up dangling from your fingers. And the way you smelled, and the way you moved.” He drops his head back against the wall. “And, Christ, the way
your mind works is just so fucking sexy. The deeper I got into it … the more I got to know you, the more it fascinated and intrigued me. That combined with this body,” he says brushing his fingertips over my ribs, pausing at the curve of my breast. “Let’s face it. I never stood a chance.”

  Goose bumps tighten my skin, making everywhere he’s touching me hum. “I thought you were just trying to get into my head.”

  “I was. Or at least that’s what I thought I was doing. I guess it just snowballed out of my control.”

  “Rob thinks we can’t let you go—that you’ll tell your family where we are. If I can’t come up with a better solution, he’s going to kill you.” I swallow the lump in my throat as a tear rolls over my lashes. “I don’t know what to do.”

  His hand is warm and strong on my face as he thumbs away the moisture. He draws me to him, and his mouth closes over mine. His firm lips move with purpose, as if conveying some secret message meant only for me. My heart seems to understand it, and as the power of that message sinks into my bones, I realize how much a kiss can express.

  Oliver and I were never about kissing in Chicago. We generally skipped that part, and any other foreplay, for the main event. But as his lips slide off mine and he drops kisses over the lines of my face, I realize this tenderness from a man usually so solid and in control is sexier than all the sex we’ve had. His hands are gentle, and every stroke of his fingertips sets my skin ablaze. A desperate ache builds in my chest until I’m sure it’s going to burst open, unable to contain everything I’m feeling.

  He takes his time, exploring every inch of my body with his hands and mouth, slowly divesting me of my clothes in the process. When we’re both naked, he rolls me on my back and settles on top of me. He hovers there, gazing down into my eyes, and in his I see I’m not the only one overwhelmed by the intensity of my emotions. My heart pounds so hard as he trails a finger over my eyebrow, along my cheekbone, down my nose to my kiss-swollen lips that I’m sure it will wake my sleeping siblings. “I love you more than I have any right to, Lee Delgado.”

  His erection is hot and hard against my leg and I spread wide for him. Excruciatingly slowly, he penetrates through my dripping sex and I only realize how lost I’ve been when he claims me. For the first time in my life I’m struck by the sudden sense of being exactly where I belong. He seats himself to the root and lets a satisfied groan roll up from his chest.

  We’re quiet as we move together, our bodies speaking a language that my heart knows but my head is just beginning to understand. He takes his time, slow and easy, as he brings me to climax. I rock against him and gasp as all the oxygen is sucked from the room. There’s a long minute that I can’t breathe with the intensity of my orgasm. When I open my eyes, I see him reeling as well.

  After we’ve caught our breath, he rolls off me and pulls me to him. I’ve never in my life felt more wanted. More loved.

  “One one two zero six Silva,” I say into the dark.

  His fingers stroke lazily through my hair. “I think we broke your brain. You’re speaking gibberish.”

  I hear the smile in his voice, which only makes my heart ache harder. “It’s the pass code into your program: the day Mama was killed and her maiden name.”

  He stiffens and his hand stops mid-stroke.

  I knew he would figure out what happened. I knew he would know I was the one who hacked the program. I chose that code because I wanted him to break it and understand the reason I did it. For Mama.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “Me too. More than I can ever say.”

  We curl together, my head on his shoulder and his fingers in my hair, and as sleep finally comes for me, peace settles over me with the answer to everything. It will take some negotiating, with both Oliver and Rob, but think they’ll both do it. For me.

  ***

  I wake to a rustling in the darkness, and the rush of adrenaline sends me flying. I spring off the bed and reach for my Beretta on the nightstand, only to find it gone. I’m disoriented for a second, and fight for my bearings, shaking my head and rubbing my eyes.

  In the shadows near the closet, I hear someone moving. My heart pounds as I squint into the darkness.

  “I’m sorry, Lee.”

  My racing heart sputters when it’s Oliver who steps out from behind the door. He’s dressed in his slacks and Rob’s T-shirt, and in his hand is my gun, pointed directly at my chest.

  He takes another step forward and scoops the keys to his rental car off the dresser. “I know what I have to do now. You’ve got to let me go.”

  “No, Oliver, you can stay here with us,” I plead. As much as I want to scream at him, I fight to keep my voice low. If Rob came in and saw this, it could only end with one or the other of them dead on the floor. “I can convince Rob and the others to let you stay. I know I can.”

  He shakes his head. “I have to do this my way.”

  “Please, Oliver,” I beg, my heart crashing against my ribs and my breath coming in short, desperate pants. “Don’t do this.”

  He stops in front of me, stares into my eyes for what feels like forever. Then he takes my hand and slaps the Cheetah into it. “I am leaving unless you shoot me. Your call.”

  I stare at the gun in my hand, trying to wrap my mind around what’s happening. As my mind begins to clear, I lift the barrel and aim at his chest. “I shot you once. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”

  He gives me a sad smile and backs toward the door.

  The Cheetah shakes in my hand and I tighten my grip.

  “Last chance,” he says, holding up his hands.

  I haul a shaky breath and lower the gun. “Please stay with me.”

  He comes closer, slips the gun from my hand. “That’s what I’m trying to do.” He tucks it into his waistband then leans in and kisses the top of my head. “I’ll be back.” He gives me one last look before turning for the door.

  I run down the stairs after him and watch naked from my porch as he jogs a crooked path down the driveway toward the house next door, where his car is still parked. As his taillights fade from sight, I sink to my knees and watch the sky begin to pink with the start of a new day.

  And know I’ve just condemned my family by letting him go.

  Chapter 16

  Lee

  The sun is high in the morning sky by the time a bleary-eyed Rob appears in my doorway. I’ve been sitting in the chair in the corner of my room since sunrise, my baggy T-shirt pulled over my knees, staring at my empty, unmade bed.

  “He in the bathroom?” Rob asks, scratching the top of his head.

  “He’s gone,” I answer.

  Rob’s fuzzy gaze sharpens to a razor’s edge. “What?”

  I drop my forehead to my knees. “He got my gun … pointed it at me.”

  “Fuck,” he growls, rubbing a hand down his face. “I forgot to tell you he wasn’t tied. How long ago?”

  I lift my head and shrug. “Two hours, maybe.”

  His eyes storm and his jaw grinds tight. “Why the hell didn’t you scream? Wake me up? Something!”

  “I didn’t want anyone getting killed! You would have gone after him. He has my gun. Someone would have died!”

  “You should have come to me,” he growls, pounding a fist into the wall. “Why the fuck didn’t I tie him back up?”

  “He won’t tell,” I say weakly.

  His incredulous gaze cuts to mine. “Are you delusional? That’s the reason he left, to tell his crew where to find us. They’re probably on their way already.”

  I shake my head no even though I know he might be right. I let myself believe the smooth lies coming out of Oliver’s mouth. I let myself be manipulated into giving him what he came here for. “We have to go.”

  “Fuck!” He rubs his face again. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He backs toward his bedroom door, his expression that of a cornered animal, holding up a hand as if he’s stopping traffic. “Don’t call Buchanan yet. Get eve
ryone up. I want you all off this island in the next hour.”

  “Where are we supposed to go?”

  “I don’t care. Take everyone up to Busch Gardens or something. Sherm’s been asking to go. Just get them the hell away from here.”

  Panic kicks in my chest. “You’re not coming?”

  His eyes cloud. “There’s something I need to do.”

  He disappears into his room and I hear him waking Sherm. I go to Grant’s room and find it empty. He never came home last night. When I retrieve my phone from the charger on my dresser I see a missed call from Wes.

  I decide to do as Rob asked and wait to call him.

  My heart’s at a gallop as I shuffle down the stairs for Ulie and call Grant. It goes to voice mail. “Don’t come home, Grant. Something’s happened. Call me back as soon as you get this message and I’ll tell you where to meet us.”

  I have better luck with Ulie. She’s mumbling something in her sleep, her long dark hair twisted into her hands. I shake her shoulder. “Ulie, wake up!”

  She blinks and sits up.

  “Get dressed. We have to go.”

  “What?” she asks, rubbing her eyes.

  “Oliver’s gone. Rob wants us off the island in an hour. Get ready.” I spin and head back upstairs, where I find Sherm feeling his way to the bathroom. I focus on keeping the nerves out of my voice as I say, “Keep moving, buddy. I want you washed up and dressed in fifteen, okay?”

  He nods without looking at me as he rounds the corner into the bathroom.

  I close my door and grab whatever’s on top in my dresser. When I sit on the bed to undress, the whole thing hits me like a sledgehammer. I can still smell our sex—his musky sweat dried on my skin. I lift the pillow to my face and inhale deeply, then hug it to my chest and flop back on the bed.