by Mia Caldwell
It escaped her notice completely when Quint came outside and took the seat across from her at the little table, his own eyes cast down to the Plaza. Only when he spoke was she pulled from her ruminations.
“I think we’re going to hear from him today,” Quint said. “As smart as he thinks he is, he’s predictable. I know his type. Amateur psychological-warfare wagers. He’s trying to make us squirm, to make us desperate. I’m not giving him the satisfaction. He’ll come back with what he actually wants soon.”
“I know you can’t help how you feel,” he continued. “But I do hope you take comfort in the fact that while we’re stuck waiting, I’ve seen to every possible contingency. By the end of the week, we’ll be back in America, and he’ll have his money. Of course, he’s going to lose it as soon as I get in touch with INTERPOL. He won’t see the light of day for a long, long time Amara.”
She slowly turned to face him, the now-familiar mix of anger and despair rushing through her veins. She tried to control it. To speak calmly. “What if he takes the money and runs? I don’t think he’d stay here. He brought us here to have a home turf advantage. He knows this place, the people. He has connections. People who will help him get away with anything. Once he gets what he wants, he’ll turn ghost. With that kind of money, he can go wherever he wants, and we might never hear from him again.”
Quint slowly shook his head. “He can’t. There’s nowhere they won’t track him, unless he decides to go off to live with some tribe somewhere remote, which he won’t do. As long as he spends money, he’ll leave traces. It doesn’t matter how careful he is. Airports, seaports, over-land transportation … there’s always a record. But Amara, we don’t need to worry about all of that right now.”
She leaned forward, burying her head in her trembling hands. “I feel so helpless, Quint. My baby boy’s with him. What does he know about taking care of a child? Has he been fed? Are his basic needs even being met? Frederik has no reason to give a damn about Hampton, aside from keeping him alive to get the money.”
Quint lightly stroked her hair. “I’m right here with you. I’m worried about the same things, I truly am. Why don’t you tell me more about Hampton?”
Amara was silent for a long moment before she gave a soft nod. “I … yeah. I’m so sorry you haven’t gotten to see him, hold him … look into those beautiful blue eyes.”
“I have this,” he said, taking out a photo from his jacket pocket. It was the photo Amara gave him back during their dinner the night Hampton was kidnapped. She could easily see how it was bent in many places and already fraying on the edges. Clearly, this was a photo that had been studied often since she gave it to him.
Knowing he’d spent so much time looking at the picture of his lost son sent a painful spear straight through her heart. She should have given him more pictures. Why hadn’t she brought some? She only had the ones on her phone.
She hopped up, ran into the living room where she’d left her phone and came rushing back outside with it. She brought up Hampton’s pictures and handed the phone over to Quint.
“Here. Show and tell. He’s so curious and intelligent. Even as young as he is, it’s easy to tell he’s going to go far. Everybody who lays eyes on him pretty much squeals in delight.” A quiet, somewhat restrained laugh passed her lips. “You should’ve heard Kari cooing at him at the hospital. She hasn’t been able to get enough of him.”
Quint gave an encouraging smile and nodded, looking raptly at the pictures on the phone. “He does come by it all honestly, doesn’t he? A gorgeous, intelligent mother alone would be enough to give him a leg up, but I think my contribution might help a little, if you’ll forgive my ego. Those blue eyes of his are all me.”
He brought a finger up and tapped next to his eye. “You better watch out for them, too. When I figured out how to make the right eyes at people to get what I wanted, I was king of the world. Or, at least, of my house. And the playground.”
Amara smiled. “So that’s how you made all that money. You made sweet eyes at all those investors and CEOs, and they rolled right over, huh? I should’ve known they were some kinda magic.”
“You’ve got to play to your strengths,” he said.
“I-I never told you, but even after what happened after that conference, I could never forget your eyes. I’d find myself daydreaming sometimes about what might have been if things hadn’t gone sour between us. I always half-hoped we might meet again someday. When we did, it was not exactly under the circumstances I had in mind, though. Surrogacy and an international manhunt are a combination that I didn’t anticipate.”
The smile slowly faded from her face as she looked out over the city again. “He’s out there somewhere, Quint. My baby. Our baby. He could be right there.” She pointed into the distance. “Or there.” She pointed in a different direction. “Somewhere. He’s crying for me. I feel it inside, in my stomach. An ungodly ache that never quits. I miss him so —”
Quint stood and moved around to place a hand at her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze as she leaned against him, the sobs finally overcoming her will to hold them back as she found the tears again that had been dried for days.
Amara managed to pull herself up from her seat long enough to lean against Quint, sobbing openly at his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Her legs trembled, body and mind completely overwhelmed with the rush of emotions she was seemingly drowning in. It was irrational, she knew, this swamping of emotions. She wasn’t even sure what all of it meant.
Release. That was what she sought perhaps. Tenderness, comfort, escape. It made no sense. She made no sense.
Chapter Twenty Eight
AFTER A FEW MINUTES OF being held up and comforted, Amara found herself in Quint’s arms. Even after all he’d endured, he was strong enough to pick her up and hold her to his chest without so much as a grunt of exertion. She clung to him greedily.
He carried her to the master bedroom and laid her carefully on the bed before leaning down to kiss her brow softly. “Rest, Amara. You don’t have to worry about anything right now. I’m going to take care of this. All of it.”
As he brought the sheet and blanket up to cover her, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. What she said next should have been a surprise, but it wasn’t. At that moment, it seemed a long time coming. She needed. Needed, so badly.
“Quint, stay with me,” she said. “I don’t want to be alone right now. I can’t be. Please …”
His blue eyes flashed at her. She knew he wanted her, but she could see he was fighting it. “Are you sure? We aren’t ourselves. You need your rest.”
He sat at the edge of the bed. Amara shifted slowly to the other side and drew back the cover for him expectantly.
He slipped off his shoes before climbing in and getting under the covers.
She turned toward him, easing a bit closer. “Thank you. Will you hold me?”
He softly kissed her brow. “Of course. You know I’m here for you.”
She pressed in tightly against him, savoring his warmth, the firmness of his strong arms around her. The manly scent of his cologne and of what was innately Quint, worked on her senses like an aphrodisiac.
“We’re in this together, and we always will be,” he murmured into her hair. “Even if my role is never more than that of supporter, I’ll be there for you. But I hope we can be more … someday —”
Amara cut his sentence short as she leaned up and kissed him softly, hushing him as she slipped her arm around him and up under his shirt, pressing her palm to his sculpted back and pulling him in closer.
Quint made a small sound of surprise when she kissed him and pulled him closer. He regained his bearings quickly and took over the lead as the kiss became more fervent and urgent. She moaned and pressed her chest against his.
Quint pulled away slightly and stroked fingers delicately down her cheek. “Amara … where this is heading … are you sure?”
She nodded and kissed him again, another soft moan escaping as sh
e felt his hand slip over her hip and to her lower back. Her hands moved down to the hem of his shirt, giving a few pulls as they kissed.
Quint sat up for the barest moment to remove his shirt and toss it onto the floor beside the bed, and pulled her own shirt and her bra off at the same time so when he lay down beside her again, they pressed their bare chests together.
Her hand slid up his back and into his hair, fingers sliding through it as the kiss became more hungry, urgent. His own hand closed on her breast, and she felt him shudder as he squeezed her firm flesh.
She felt twice as magnetically drawn to him as she had at that convention so long ago. He’d truly become a different man. Quint’s strong hand moved between them, slipping down to unbutton her pants.
She helped push them down hurriedly, caught up in the passion of the moment. Quint could hardly get his own off before Amara’s lips were at his again, her hand lingering at his waist.
In one quick motion, Quint rolled Amara onto her back and knelt between her legs, leaning down to kiss tenderly at the joining of her neck and shoulder. Amara gasped at the shivers his kisses sent down to her core.
Her arms encircled his back loosely, fingertips trailing up and down as Quint worked his way downward to nuzzle at her breasts.
A long, low moan escaped Quint’s lips as they closed around her nipple, suckling and pulling firmly, the other between his thumb and forefinger. The feeling of his tongue sliding over her, and the anticipation soon had her writhing beneath him, squeezing his fine ass, urging him forward, growing more and more desperate.
She reached down, her moans only growing louder as she grasped his thick length, giving a few long, slow strokes. “Quint, oh Quint,” she murmured, watching his lips and tongue on her breasts.
Amara lifted her hips slowly, feeling the hard heat of his cock sliding over her clit, moaning out lowly and pulling him down toward her greedily.
Quint’s kisses descended, leaving Amara gripping tightly at the sheets in anticipation. His warm, full lips kissed lightly along her inner thighs. He teased her with the faintness of his warm breath against her soaked center.
When his tongue dragged up, feather-light, she gave a small, plaintive moan. As she did so, Quint wrapped his lips around her clit, suckling passionately while his fingers pushed deep inside her and curled upward.
It had been far too long since she was touched, let alone so lovingly. When he could have just as easily moved straight to the sex, she found him tending to her pleasure. He held her behind her knees, pressing her legs up and apart as he licked and sucked at her hungrily, expertly. She slid her fingers through his silken hair, her wide hips rocking up against his attentions.
As her climax rapidly approached, she gripped his hair tighter and pushed his head away. Her body fought her every step of the way, her hips moving up to follow of their own accord. She spoke through her panting moans, one hand descending from his hair to cup his cheek.
“I need you inside me. Please. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t wait anymore.”
He slid his hands out from behind her knees, coming to kneel between her legs again, his warm lips at her ear, teeth nipping softly as he spoke. “Need it that badly? Mmm … I was enjoying making you writhe. Those moans … God, I’ve been hearing those moans in my dreams for what seems like forever.”
He pushed his hips forward slowly, sliding the underside of his cock against her as he drew a shuddering, labored breath.
“Yes, yes.” Amara found herself completely lost in the moment, grabbing his hips, all but pulling him inside herself.
He let her guide him, hips moving in response to her urgings, the head of his cock slowly sliding into her. Both drew long, hissing breaths, though Amara’s hitched and was drawn into a low moan as she stretched around him.
The moment his throbbing cock bottomed out, he began a slow, rhythmic pumping, letting her guide his hips as she brought hers up and forward to meet each of his thrusts. As the pace quickened, Amara wrapped her legs around his waist. They moved as one, only one another’s names passing their lips in the sea of panting moans.
As Quint slowed, he rolled to his back, pulling Amara atop him to straddle his hips. She immediately moved against him, straightening up as their fingers interlaced. Taking his thick length to the base, she slowly rocked her hips, side to side, forward and back, up and down, her bottom lip firmly between her teeth as she watched Quint below her.
Seeing him so overwhelmed spurred her on, and she leaned down to kiss him deeply as she slammed her hips down in feverish lust. And again. And again. Until the wave of her orgasm overtook her and sent her crying out, joining in his cries of passion as they reached ecstasy together.
She collapsed on top of him, and he held her tight, as if afraid she might somehow disappear.
The rest of the night was a blur of ecstasy. Quint was insatiable, and Amara was eager to give him exactly what he’d been waiting so long for — and what she dreamt about more often than she’d ever admit.
Every time they seemed to slow to a stop, a touch or kiss in the right place would stir the endless passion within them, and they’d find themselves in the midst of another round of lovemaking. When their irrepressible ache for each other was finally sated, there was no time or energy to talk — or anything else.
They fell asleep, spooned together … inseparable … for now.
Chapter Twenty Nine
AMARA WOKE TO THE SUN beaming in through the bedroom window. She reckoned it to be mid-morning. She turned, expecting to find Quint next to her, but he wasn’t there. She lay back, placing a hand over her eyes, giving a low moan of exhaustion.
The sounds and enticing smells coming from the kitchen across the condo made it clear enough where Quint had gone, and Amara took the time she had alone to reflect on what they’d done.
Her lips twitched up into a smile, thinking of the finally consummated lust and longing, but the smile soon faded as she realized the implications of what she’d done — what they’d done.
She sat up to look around the room. Her clothes were piled on the floor beside the bed, a reminder of the reckless desire she’d given in to. She truly had just wanted Quint to hold her, nothing more.
She hadn’t intended to have sex with him, but she found herself questioning why that was when he slid into bed with her. Realizing that she was holding on to a statement he’d made years ago, long before everything they’d been through both alone and together, she decided to let whatever was going to happen happen.
The more she thought about what they’d done, the more conflicted she became. Things like romance, sex, fun … these weren’t things to indulge in when your child was missing and in danger.
As she trudged to the shower, she waged a one-woman war over all that had transpired. Should she feel badly for seeking comfort in Quint’s arms?
The hot water against her skin was cathartic, and pulled her from her rumination, back to pressing matters. How could she possibly talk to Quint about what happened last night? Was it even something she wanted to talk about? She had been so forward, and she remembered that he’d given her every chance to stop if she wanted. But her need for comfort and love was too strong to deny.
She had to know how Quint felt about everything, and the only way to do that was to talk to him. Without knowing how he felt about it, without talking to the man who’d shared the experience with her, she couldn’t simply sit around admonishing herself. She hurriedly finished her shower, dried off and dressed in a simple outfit, expecting another day of staying in and waiting for a response from the man who held her son captive.
The image of Hampton, helpless and hungry, neglected and distressed, occupied her mind completely as she applied her makeup and fixed her hair in the vanity mirror. Unable to push it from her mind, she made her way to the kitchen, confused by the sudden influx of music as she approached.
The balcony doors were open, and the sounds of raucous celebration were drifting up from the plaza below. S
he walked past the kitchen and out onto the balcony, leaning over to look down at the revelers. The large fabricated skulls, dancing, and blindingly vibrant colors created a deep pit in her stomach.
The Day of the Dead. She’d forgotten about that. It was a routine celebration in South America and Mexico, but the timing couldn’t have been more distressing. The fact that Frederik hadn’t yet responded filled her with terror at the prospect of him doing something rash, even for him.
She turned and practically fled into the kitchen to see Quint fully dressed for the day, nearly finished cooking breakfast.
He turned to her, brow raised in confusion, though a faint smile was on his lips. “Amara? Is everything alright?” He motioned toward the balcony. “Day of the Dead. You must know about the celebrations. Sort of a Latin Halloween, as I understand it. It’s a day of reverence too, but like most other things, it’s also a cause for parades and celebration.”
She nodded slowly as she made her way to one of the high stools situated against the island. “Yeah, I know about it, a little. Aren’t you worried?”
He lifted a pan off a burner and tilted his head slightly, pondering for a moment. “Of course I’m worried. I’ve been worried, and I will be until we get Hampton back.”
“No, not only that. The day. Frederik has apparently gone off the deep end. You don’t think he’d —”
Quint placed the pan back on the burner. “No. No, none of that. We can’t get caught up in that kind of thinking. He wouldn’t do that, no matter how vicious or crazy he is. He knows there’s no way he’ll get what he wants if he does. I don’t want to sound callous, but it’s no good thinking otherwise. Don’t do it to yourself, to either of us.”
She knew he was right and wished for the discipline to follow his advice. “Quint … we need to talk about last night. About what happened between us.”
He pulled away slowly, nodding as he moved to turn the burner off and slide the omelet onto a plate, which he passed to her over the island. “Right onto the next hot topic, are we? Fine. I thought as much. It was sudden, yes. I didn’t expect it, and —”
