“Tell me, Rita, where is there for me to go?”
Her stoic expression cracked as her cheeks rose and eyes shone. “Ms. McCrie, the cabin is rather isolated, but there are plenty of places to go especially this time of year. If you decide to hike, please let us know. We have bear repellent and a tracker. It’s too easy to get lost.”
Bear repellent.
I shook my head as my eyes opened wide. “That will be a definite no for hiking.”
Again she smiled. “Come see me tomorrow. I’ll give you a better tour.”
“Thank you, Rita.”
As soon as she left, I turned a complete circle, taking in my surroundings. Sterling had said I wasn’t kidnapped, yet wasn’t I?
Stepping to the windows, I peered out into the darkness. I couldn’t even point to a map and place my current location. My phone came to mind. Could Google Maps find me? From what I’d been told and could decipher, an additional two and a half hours of flight and a helicopter ride had me on the edge of some legendary lake created by Paul Bunyan.
In the morning I’d learn more. Currently, I was too tired to care.
I made my way to the bathroom. Sterling’s wealth was difficult to ignore. The attached bath was bigger than the one in my apartment, complete with a claw-foot soaking tub and glass-block shower that could easily fit me and four of my closest friends. If I hadn’t taken two showers in the last five hours—three since I woke—I would have given that tub some serious consideration.
The day had been long and the evening longer. My tired muscles and mind told me that I was ready to go to sleep and take a reprieve from whatever life and Sterling Sparrow could throw at me. However, my carry-on with my nightgown was still missing. It was then that I noticed a thick white chenille robe hanging from an ornate hook in the bathroom.
No matter how many questions I had going through my head or how difficult it was to make sense of what was happening, exhaustion was winning.
Five minutes later, my face washed and teeth brushed—yes, of course the bathroom was well stocked—wearing only my bra and panties under the robe, I stepped back into the bedroom.
“Shit!” I exclaimed as the man in the shadows became visible. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
In an armchair in the corner of the room, my carry-on by his side and a bottle of water in his hand, was the king of the house. Complete with his smug expression, he sat in a plush chair, leaning back with his ankle over his knee.
He didn’t answer, remaining silent as his dark eyes searched me up and down. Suddenly, the robe no longer felt as though it were soft and thick. From the way his gaze sizzled, I had to look down to be sure it hadn’t magically become transparent.
Finally, the silence shattered as his deep tenor asked, “Are you ready to talk?”
Araneae 21
Wrapping the robe tighter, I walked toward him, took the water bottle from his hand, and made my way across the room. After placing the water on the bedside stand, I sat near the end of the bed facing him. “I’m exhausted. Don’t you sleep?”
“Occasionally.”
“Will you tell me what the fiancée remark was about?”
He lowered his leg and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “I’ll tell you more than that.” When I didn’t respond, he went on, “Like everything else, it was for your protection.”
I tried to ignore how even in the middle of the night, Sterling Sparrow was strikingly handsome. His dark hair was more mussed than usual, reminding me of the times I’d watched him run his fingers through the now-wavy mane. His cheeks had more beard growth than when he’d first appeared on the plane or even the first time I saw him in the parking lot. And with the way he was seated, the defined muscles in his biceps bulged as his large hands balled in fists under his square chin.
It was nearly impossible to not think about what those hands had done to me. Though we’d been together in the plane hours ago, it now seemed like a lifetime. That was how it felt to be near Sterling Sparrow, as if we’d known each other for a lifetime, not simply a week. Yet that wasn’t the case. It had been only a week since Patrick tricked me into going to the warehouse. A week since my breath was first stolen at the sight of his dark stare.
Seven days later I was sitting on a bed in his remote cabin, wearing only a robe and underwear; that reality was difficult for my tired brain to fathom.
“Protection from whom?” I asked, attempting to focus on our conversation.
Sterling stood.
I smiled as his fingers again raked his hair. Maybe I was beginning to figure out at least a small bit of this complicated man.
Walking to the windows and back, he began, “I wanted this conversation to wait.”
My pulse kicked up a notch at the possibility of what he had to say. I too stood. Now in my bare feet, I was easily eight to ten inches shorter than the man before me. Yet despite his size and power, unlike the first time I met him, I held no fear of him, only of what he could tell me. Tentatively, I moved closer. Laying my hand on his forearm, I repeated my question. “From whom do I need protection?” When he didn’t answer, I questioned, “From you?”
His lips quirked. “Most definitely.”
I pulled my hand back, shocked at his honesty. “What?”
“Oh, Araneae, it should be obvious by now that not all of my intentions are honorable.” He teased the opening of the robe. “With everything in me, I want to open this wrapping.” With just one finger he traced from behind my ear to my collarbone and to the valley between my breasts. My skin burned in the wake of his touch, the heat flooding my core as he pushed back the soft chenille robe and exposed the lace of my bra.
My tongue darted to my lips as my breathing deepened. His dark stare wasn’t looking at my eyes. Its laser precision was focused on my breasts, almost as if he could see through the material.
“Sterling,” I said, bringing his gaze back to mine. “You said talk.”
He took one step and another as my feet moved backward in sync, and our stare stayed locked upon the other. My retreat was short-lived as my shoulders collided with the wall. The faintest remnants of cologne mixed with the scent of night air and helicopter fuel lingered around him, creating a masculine concoction. Leaning forward, his arms came to rest on either side of my face. With each second, his gaze darkened. With every ticking of the metaphoric clock, I reconsidered my earlier thought about fearing this man. Sterling had just admitted I needed protection from him. Maybe I did.
“If you had any idea of how long I’ve waited for you…” His deep voice resonated, echoing off the walls. “Sunshine, you’ve always belonged to me.”
Sunshine?
His lips brushed my forehead. “Your mind is fighting it, but your body knows it’s true.”
I had to turn this around or there was no going back. My battle wasn’t with the man who had me caged but with myself. I detested his forwardness and proprietorship, and at the same time, those were only two of the qualities that made me want Sterling Sparrow. The list was growing by the minute, and the fog of his presence wasn’t helping.
I lifted my hand to his hard chest. “I don’t know how long you’ve waited. That’s what you were going to tell me.”
His eyes blinked as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re right. You need to know…about more than that.” He stood taller, moving his arms and releasing me from his hold.
“Will you tell me?” I asked.
He took a step back, removing the masculine scent and clearing the space between us. “You tell me first.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me what you know about your past. It will help if I understand what you’ve been told.”
Walking to the center of the room, I let out a breath and spun. “Fuck, Sterling. You’ve told me more in the last week then I’ve known my entire life. I only heard the name Araneae once before you. Once. I’d never heard the name McCrie…” I shrugged. “…I mean, I guess I’d heard it, but not in relation to m
e. And tonight, Rita is calling me Ms. McCrie.” My hands slapped the sides of my robe-covered thighs. “Really…how totally fucked up is that?”
His head bobbed as the cords in his neck pulled tight and jaw clenched. “I’m trying to see this from your perspective, but I’m failing.”
“Tell me who besides you I need protection from.”
For the first time, I saw the fatigue in his expression that I was feeling.
“My team has been working on learning more, but at this time I’m not prepared to give you a definite answer. All I can tell you is that you have been targeted.”
I shook my head. “Targeted for what? Why?”
“You really don’t know? Tell me what you do know.”
Did I trust Sterling Sparrow with what little I knew?
I’d been willing to trust him with my body—I supposed I had—and seconds ago, I was on the verge of doing it again. Were my secrets more precious?
I’d trusted other men with my body, yet I’d never shared the truth of my childhood with them. Was Sterling different?
“Araneae.” His dark stare was as penetrating as it had been in the parking lot.
Sterling Sparrow was different. He knew more than I did. That was why I’d agreed to come with him to Chicago—and for my loved ones. My heart told me that I could have found another way to protect those I held dear. However, in twenty-six years, I’d never been given another opportunity to unlock my secrets.
Swallowing, I sat back at the end of the bed. “Fine. All I remember of my childhood were my parents.”
His eyes grew wide. “You remember your parents?”
“My adoptive parents, not biological.”
He nodded.
“I can’t remember anything or anyone before them. They never lied to me. I don’t remember when they told me that I wasn’t biologically theirs, but I always accepted it.” A memory curled my lips. “They used to say that not everyone could create a baby, but they were blessed to have been given theirs. They called me their gift.” Sniffing, I wiped a renegade tear. “They were the only family I ever had.
“When I was sixteen years old, my dad—my adoptive father—died in an automobile accident. The next few days were a blur until one afternoon my mother told me we were going to go for a drive. I had nothing prepared. I didn’t know where we were going—I thought maybe to Dad’s grave. We hadn’t had a funeral, and I was having a hard time understanding what was happening.”
Sterling was back in the chair where I’d found him. The distance gave me strength to keep talking, telling a story that I’d never before spoken aloud. Ever. Not even to Louisa. She, like everyone else, had been told the story of Phillip and Debbie Hawkins. Over the years those fictional parents had taken on Byron and Josey’s traits and characteristics. It was easier to tell stories and only change the names. At some point the Hawkinses and the Marshes had become synonymous for my parents.
Ironic, especially when in reality, neither biologically were.
“Where did she take you?” he asked.
“To the airport. I recall that she was driving like a bat out of hell.” The decade-old scene replayed in my mind. I crossed my arms over my midsection to ward off the chill that accompanied it. “I was scared. Her behavior was odd—out of character. My mom was one of the most sensible and determined women I’d ever known, and she was swerving in front of semi-trucks, and acting like…” The idea of what I was about to say had never really mattered before. Now it seemed important.
“Like what? I need to know.”
“Like we were being followed.”
Small lines grew deeper around his dark brown eyes as again he gripped the arms of the chair.
Shaking my head to clear the memory, I moved my hands to my lap and went on. “She handed me my new identity. Just like that. On a cold afternoon, I suddenly had a new name with all the supporting documentation.”
“Until that time you were Araneae?”
I looked down at my hands and back to his gaze. “No. I told you that I only heard that name once before you. I grew up believing my name was Renee, Renee Marsh.”
“And when did you hear your real name, other than from me?”
I half laughed because this reality was as they say, stranger than fiction. “I suppose if I hadn’t heard it that afternoon from my mom, I wouldn’t have believed you when you said it.”
“She told you?” he asked. “Your adoptive mother knew who you really were?”
I nodded.
“Did she tell you anything else?”
I looked back at my hands as I wrung one and then the other. Though I didn’t look up, nor did I hear him, I knew Sterling had stood. As strange as it sounded, I felt it—a shift in the force surrounding me as he moved closer.
His hand reached out, lifting my chin, changing my view from my lap and hands to him. “Tell me.”
“I asked her why I had to go, and she said there were dangerous people after me. It had something to do with my biological father. I never understood exactly, and…” More tears fell from my eyes as I swallowed. “…I never spoke to her again to learn.”
“Dangerous people?” His thumb gently wiped the tears from my cheek.
“I asked for a name.” The air around us quivered with expectant energy as Sterling waited for me to finish my thoughts, my limited knowledge of what life had dealt me. I met his gaze. “She said Sparrow.”
A micro-expression of shock flitted across his features at my confession. Perhaps not shock, but pain. It was as if I’d physically struck him with my words instead of my hand. This time I reached for the large hands before me as I stood. “She said a man named Allister was in charge, but one day it would be his son, Sterling.”
“Allister is no longer a concern.”
Dropping his hands, I tilted my head. “He’s your father, isn’t he?”
“He was.”
I reached my palm to his abrasive cheek. “Oh, Sterling, I’m sorry. I forgot. I remember reading that now.”
“Don’t be sorry that he’s gone. The world’s a better place.”
“Still… I know what it’s like to lose a parent.” I shrugged. “More than one.” A question came to mind. “What about your mother?”
“She’s in Chicago. Didn’t she come up in your research?”
The question sent a tingling sensation to my ass, remembering that he had told me not to do research on the last name he wrote on the envelope. “I didn’t research the name McCrie. That was what you said.”
There was a glint within his dark eyes, as if his mind and mine had taken the same path. He took a step back. “Fuck, Araneae, there are so many things I need to tell you, and with one sentence you have my cock wanting something altogether different.”
I did have an effect on this man. There was something powerful in that knowledge.
“I think I may want the same thing.”
His brows moved upward as my cheeks warmed under his gaze. “You’re saying yes?”
“I’m saying there’s a greater possibility now than before.”
Sterling took a deep breath and reached into the back pocket of his jeans. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe a condom. What I wasn’t expecting was my phone.
“You said you wanted to see this, no matter the time of day or night.”
Suddenly nothing else mattered.
Oh God. Louisa!
My stomach dropped and panic coursed through my blood as I reached for the phone. Sitting back on the bed, I fumbled with the screen. “Shit, you’ve had this all along, and you didn’t tell me? Sterling, you promised. Is it Louisa?”
“The message is from her.”
I stared up in disbelief. “You read it? You read my message? How? My screen is locked.”
He didn’t reply, yet the answer was obvious. Nothing, not even a pass code, stopped Sterling Sparrow. Instead of responding, he waited as I read the string of texts.
“CALL ME, I HAVE TO TELL YOU SOMETHING.”
“KENNI, I’M GETTING WORRIED. TELL ME YOU MADE IT TO YOUR GETAWAY.”
“BABE, I HATE TO DO THIS IN A TEXT, BUT MAYBE YOU’RE STILL TRAVELING AND I NEED TO GO TO SLEEP. I SAW IT ON THE NEWS, AND THEN JASON AND I DROVE OVER THERE. HONEY, YOUR APARTMENT—IT’S GONE. THERE WAS A FIRE. I’M SO GLAD YOU WEREN’T THERE. THE NEWS IS SAYING TWO CASUALTIES. THEY AREN’T RELEASING NAMES. CALL ME IN THE MORNING, AND HOPEFULLY I’LL KNOW MORE. I’M SO SORRY.”
By the time I finished, my hands were shaking. “I-I need to go back.”
“Think about it. Think about what I said earlier.”
“Fuck, Sterling. You’ve said a lot of things, and at this moment, I don’t give a shit what you say. I need to get back to Boulder. Have Marianne get the plane ready, and I’ll leave now.”
The eyes before me darkened as his expression hardened, returning to the statuesque air.
I jumped from the bed and retraced the path he’d paced earlier, my steps giving me the added determination. “I want to call Louisa. I need to know. I have this neighbor—”
“Mrs. Powell,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.
I turned to him, my voice growing louder with each statement. “How the fuck do you know that?” Before he could answer, I went on. “Oh, that’s right because you know everything about those things that belong to you. Well, I have a news flash for you. I am not a thing to be possessed. And I don’t belong to you.”
Sterling took one long stride, maybe two.
I let out a gasp as he seized my shoulders. The look in his dark eyes sent a chill through me as if ice water had been added to my veins. There was no question: I’d misjudged my safety in this man’s presence. The steely determination staring at me left no room for debate.
“You do belong to me, and your mother was wrong. I’m the one man who you don’t need to fear, not when your safety is in question. However, if you don’t stop making uninformed demands, I’m not above taking you over my knee and reminding you again about the lesson we had earlier.”
Mafia Romance Page 15
