The FBI Thrillers Collection(79)

“That’s pretty amazing, James. What happened to her?”

“They live in Annandale, Virginia. She’s got two kids, the guy’s some sort of lobbyist, paid really well, and they seem to be doing just great. I see them every once in a while. No, don’t romanticize it and pretend that I was a brokenhearted wreck. I wasn’t. I was shocked and furious for a while, before Dillon pointed out the absurdity of it all.

“The good guy catches the bad guy. The good guy’s wife defends the bad guy and gets him off and then marries him. Pretty deep stuff to walk in. He was right. The whole thing was like a bad melodrama or a TV soap.”

“James, you’re wonderful. Even in all this mess, you can laugh and make me laugh, and you weren’t angry that I poked a gun in your stomach and stole your car. I had to just ditch the car, James. Then I bought the motorcycle. I had to get away. I think if you could forget who you are and come to Bar Harbor with me, everything would be better than what it’s going to be soon. I used to love life, James, before—well, that’s not important right now.”

“It is important. You want to know something else? Something else that will prove how great I am?”

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t even get pissed when you pulled my gun on me the second time.”

“Well, that settles it then, doesn’t it?” She moved beneath him, and he thought he’d lose it for sure. He was hard against her, and his heart was pounding deep and fast against her chest.

He hadn’t intended to let things get this out of hand, at least he hadn’t before she shifted beneath him, her legs wide now, his legs between hers.

He kissed her, then said into her mouth. “You’re beautiful, and you can feel how much I want you. But we can’t let this happen. I don’t have any condoms. The last thing you need is to get pregnant.”

He heard Dillon moving about in the adjoining room. “Besides, Dillon is awake and up. It’s nearly seven o’clock. We need to get back home.”

She turned her face away from him. Her eyes were closed. He thought she must be in pain, from either her head or her shoulder. Without thinking, he reared back and pulled his undershirt over her head. She blinked up at him and made a move to cover herself.

No, he thought, she wasn’t ready for this. “It’s all right. I want to see how badly your shoulder is hurt. Hold still.”

He was on his knees between her legs, bending over her, his hands gentle as they lightly touched her left shoulder. She winced. “There. Okay, hold still, let me feel around just a bit more.” She looked like the Italian flag, the bruises raw and bright, slashing downward to her breasts and over her shoulder cap to her upper arm. Some of the colors were smearing into each other, green the predominant one.

He leaned down and kissed her shoulder.

She felt her hands clenching on his arms. “I’m sorry you got hurt.” He kissed her again, on her left breast this time. He laid his cheek against her breast and listened to her heartbeat, so clear and strong, and now it was speeding up. Why not, he thought. He raised his head and smiled at her.

“A woman who’s lived with as much stress as you have must have release. It’s the best medicine.” He kissed her again, and eased off her onto his side. He slid his palm down her body, lightly caressing her belly, then his fingers found her. He caressed her even as he kissed her, knowing that she was scared, nervous, but he didn’t stop. His fingers went deeper, changing rhythm, even as his breath speeded up as he felt her relax, as he felt the excitement of what he was doing to her break through her embarrassment.

He lifted his head and smiled at her dazed face. “It’s all right, sweetheart. You need this. God knows I do, too.”

He began kissing her again, talking into her mouth, sex words that were crude and raw and exciting. When she came, he took her cries in his mouth, held her tightly against him, and wished like mad that he could come inside her. He hurt, he was pressing hard as a board against her thigh.

But he couldn’t.

Dillon knocked lightly on the adjoining door.

“Quinlan, Sally, you guys awake?”

He looked down at the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. She was just staring at him as if she couldn’t believe what had happened.

“You okay?”

She just stared at him, mute.

“Hey, Quinlan, you up? Come on, you guys, we’ve got miles to go.”

“That’s the guy who owns the Porsche,” Quinlan said. “We’ve got to hang on to him.” He kissed the tip of her nose and forced himself to leave her.





20




“I LIKE YOUR apartment.”