Almost Always: A Love Unexpected Novel (15 page)

Twenty three

When Taishi pulled the car up in front of the Dakota, I nearly fainted. Home to celebrities and the mega wealthy, the historic old building was notoriously hard to get into. The
rejected
prospective tenant list reads like a Hollywood red carpet roll call.

The Dakota is a beautiful building. A lot of people say it looks creepy or haunted, but I disagree. I was trying hard not to appear awestruck when we crossed the lobby. The chandeliers, the dark wood, the rich carpets and wingback chairs all screamed old money and class.

When the elevator doors shut, Kason wrapped his arms around me and claimed my mouth with a savage kiss. "I will make this right for us, Annalise. I promise you." The old elegant elevator lumbered slowly to his floor. I wasn't in a hurry. His mouth and mine passed the time well enough.

The doors slid open and we crossed into his apartment. In spite of the fact that I was utterly ready for whatever he had in store for me, I had to gasp at the beautiful interior. It was blended elegance with a vengeance. The inlaid wood floors were strewn with oriental rugs and everything was done in rich shades of burgundy, blue and gold. Antiques, Chinese vases, crystal lamps, modern overstuffed couches and striking Impressionistic paintings all melded together into a harmonious and surprisingly comfortable looking whole.

"This is a beautiful apartment. Did you do this yourself?"

"Yes, I did. It's my refuge." He put his hand against a particularly delicate blue and white vase on the hall table. "Some of these things are from our old house."

I knew now, more than ever, why Kason felt he needed a refuge. After living through the last few days I felt like I needed one, too. Once again I felt a chill shudder cross my shoulders when I considered the vigilance required in his lifestyle. He saw my body language, but mistook the source. His strong arms gathered me close to him.

"Make love with me. Find your way so close to me that everything disappears but you and I for as long as we can make it last."

I knew it wasn't a good idea. I knew I should be drawing back, not growing closer. But he had said 'make love'. The word had been spoken. Out loud.

He didn't give me any time for an internal argument. Gathering me in his arms, he kissed me with a compelling, passionate kiss that possessed me completely.

I laced my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers in the waves that spilled over his collar. He bent and put one strong arm under my knees and another one at my back and pulled me off my feet. As he carried me through the living room and into the opulent bedroom, I couldn't help but think that someday I'd love to be carried this way as his bride. I filed that thought in the "don't go there" file, determined to enjoy the here and now knowing this could well be the last time.

***

We rummaged around in the kitchen for something snack on. It was lunchtime but neither one of us felt like going anywhere. For one thing, we didn't want to put any clothes on. I loved the idea of padding around Kason's amazing apartment buck naked. He had introduced me to the joy of nudity. No matter what happened to 'us', I'd probably spend the rest of my life seeking new ways to shed my clothes.

I kept looking anxiously at the collection of cell phones that we carried from room to room. Kason peered from behind the door of the refrigerator and caught me.

"We have done everything we can. I know you heard everyone agree that if the kidnappers said they'd call in 24 hours, that's when they'll call. My bank is gathering the money and I'll have it before they close today."

"It just seems so wrong to be . . . well,
enjoying
myself so much when Mom is being held hostage."

"I understand. But, you know something? I can't think of anything we could have done that would have made more sense." He walked toward me across the kitchen and held me against him. "Is there anything more comforting?"

I pressed my cheek against his warm, bare chest and listened to his heart beat as he stroked my hair. "I'm scared, Kason. Very scared."

"Of course you are. But your mother is going to be fine. Archie was absolutely right about this being an amateur job. Now that I'm sure it's
not
the union behind the abduction the more confident I am that we're going to come out on top."

"It isn't just about Mom. I believe you. I think she's going to be okay."

"What else is it about then?"

"I'm afraid to tell you."

"Look, I know I can be intimidating, but if something is frightening you, I want to know about it."

"Kason, I'm not sure I can do this."

"Do what?"

"Us. I'm not sure I can deal with a lot of things about us."

"Is this really the right time, Annalise?" He tilted my chin up to his face and crushed his mouth against mine. I wondered if it was possible to quell the reaction my body instantly had to his touch. "I need to feel you near me today. I want your closeness. I want to fold you in my arms and never let you go."

It did make sense. I had a very bad habit, according to people who knew me best, of picking the worst possible moment to bring something important up.

"Will there ever be a 'right' time, Kason?"

"Yes, there will be. I promise you that."

A promise. Well, I liked the sound of that. "Then," I decided to be bold and go for it. If he wanted to get all pissed off and ridiculous, now was as good a time as any to find out. "I expect you to keep that promise."

"You can count on it."

Twenty four

We were back in my parent's house by sunset. We both felt that Dad should have company for dinner and we could all be there in the morning when the phone finally, mercifully rang.

Dad didn't have much of an appetite for the delicious Italian meal we ordered in from Delmonico's. "C'mon, Daddy, it's your favorite," I urged him to eat. He had always been hugely complimentary any time we had their food.

"I have a confession to make," he said as he pushed the food around on his plate. "I've never really liked this stuff that much."

"But you've always said it was the best!"

"That was for your mother's sake. She loves a good Italian meal and I know how much work goes into one. All these years I've been telling her how much I love Delmonico's just to give her a break. To tell you the honest truth, your mother's lasagna is a million times better than this stuff."

Kason snorted with understanding laughter. "True love," he said.

My father sighed. "The greatest gift a man can ever have. My biggest wish for all three of my girls has always been that they find a man who adores them and treasures them as I have their mother."

"That's a wonderful thing to say, Daddy. You and Mom are very lucky."

"There's more to it than luck, Angelcakes. There's a lot more to it."

I thought of the sacrifices, the compromises, the highs and lows, the pregnancies and the children, the hours of work it took to raise and support us, the endless nights my parents climbed the stairs to bed hand in hand. I thought about how they had built family traditions for us and taught us how to be good people. I marveled at their patience with us when we tested them. I remembered their pride in us as each little success built our confidence and their sympathy as the inevitable defeats built our strength.

Then I thought of Kason, cut off from all of that so early. Left to his own devices for so long. As I cleared away the plates and leftovers, I wondered if that kind permanent scars that depravation left. He knew virtually nothing of family after his mother died. How would that affect him if he ever decided to have children? Or was he completely serious when he said he wanted nothing to do with parenthood?

It was another hurdle, another possibly insurmountable obstacle to 'us'. I hadn't really given much thought to having a family of my own. I suppose I just assumed that it would happen naturally someday. But now, focusing on my childhood, on the wonderful parents I had been blessed with, I realized that it
was
terribly important to me and I didn't think I could be happy with a life that denied me that fulfillment.

Oh, Mom, hurry home. We need to talk.

***

Mom's cell rang at precisely six-thirty the next morning. By that time there were eight people sitting around the table staring at it. Of course it was on speaker and a recorder was standing by.

"Obviously, you come alone and unarmed. Get on the East River Ferry at Pier 11, Wall Street Station. Take the noon ferry. Put the money in a basic backpack and stow it under the last bench at the back of the ferry, furthest from the exit. Leave the ferry at the Brooklyn Bridge Park stop."

"When we have checked the bag and the contents thoroughly we will release your mother. Tell your team that we are watching. It is not difficult for us to find tracers, bugs, marks on bills or any other device your high tech team is considering using to find us. Don't risk bringing harm to your mother for the sake of a few dollars. You won't hear from me again."

After the phone went dead, Archie spoke. "As plans go, this isn't a terrible one. Crowded lunchtime ferry, knapsack, lot of water around. Not terrible at all."

The FBI guys started discussing the best way to wire the pack so they could track it. Kason immediately broke in. "Apparently you didn't hear what the man on the phone said. I refuse to break any of his rules for the sake of a bag of cash. We're talking about someone who's a lot more important than money to a lot of good people."

"Mr. Royce, a serious felony has been committed."

"And I sincerely hope you apprehend the perpetrators. However, you are going to do that after Marjorie Harding is safe and back in the arms of her loving family. I hope that's clear."

Archie added his two cents. "My guess is that they'll ride the ferry and somehow transfer the money to another bag anyway. The backpack will go over the side. Given what we've learned about the number of people who know Marjorie's nickname, I'd say we have a darn good chance of tagging the perps by keeping an eye on the people on Don's list. Sooner or later, someone is going to want to spend that money more than a hundred bucks at a time."

"Even though I asked for used bills that are not in sequence, my bank had dozens of staffers record each serial number of every bill. It may be a tedious process, but there's a good chance that patience and persistence will eventually pay off," Kason told the group. "At any rate it's our only option."

One of the NYPD detectives spoke next. "Mr. Royce, we haven't got the kind of manpower to conduct that kind of surveillance of a dozen people for weeks trying to pick up on a single serial number. That's going to take an outrageous outlay."

The FBI guys nodded in agreement.

"That's not going to be an issue. I'll handle the investigation through Archie's office. It will make him happy and give his people something to do." Kason smiled and so did Archie. I figured that not only would Archie have to hire a small army of helpers, but also that this would be the biggest and most lucrative case of his humble career. "I promise you if they turn anything up, you'll be informed right away."

***

A million dollars in hundred dollar bills doesn't really look like much. There were twenty fat packets of hundred dollar bills in a canvas bag on our kitchen table. Archie did the honors of pulling them out and stacking them up in a neat pile so that we could all take a long look at them. Except for Kason, of course. He had zero interest in the money.

What he was interested in was the clock on the microwave. The watch on his wrist. The old ship's clock on the mantle. The time display on his cell phone. If a man could move time by force of will, he would surely have done it. But the minutes dragged on and on.

Impatience and worry was etched all over his handsome face. "I hate that you have to be the one to do this, but we don't dare pull any stunts. Chances are, the kidnappers won't even board the ferry until after you've gotten off. They're counting on having the backpack go unnoticed until they come looking for it."

"Well, not too many New Yorkers are going to be poking under a seat trying to snag a strange backpack. I think we've all been trained not to touch things like that." I took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be okay, Kason. I just want to get Mom back home."

***

I was concentrating on everything and on nothing as Taishi drove me across the Brooklyn Bridge and down FDR Drive toward Pier 11.  The backpack sat beside me, mocking me.

Money. Funny how no one ever talks about the downside to a fortune. There are very few stories about what it costs to be in that elite group of people to whom the everyday worries of mortgages, kid's shoes or the electric bill simply don't exist. There's a downside to all that money. And the downside can be deadly.

My brain hurt from all the thinking. My heart ached because I knew what I had to do.

Kason wasn't going to put the brakes on. It had to be me. Oh, I could probably annoy him enough with questions and neediness to drive him away, but I didn't want to whine my out of the relationship. And, chances were very good that he could seduce his way out of any serious discussions anyway.

Kason Royce was
not
what I wanted out of life. I wanted a lifetime of expectations, the traditional kind with children and grandchildren. I wanted a home that wasn't a fortress. Safety and security, love and affection and a simple life was best for a girl like me. He was anything but simple and every day with him was living on an edge that I was certain to fall off of sooner or later.

It seemed like an eternity before we came to the pier. Taishi wished me luck as I got out of the car. I wasn't feeling lucky. I was scared and not just because of Mom. I was scared that I was planning to walk away from the only man who'd ever made me feel really alive. A man who could captivate my very soul and literally put the world at my feet.

I looked around, suspicious of every person on the boat. Who was the bad guy? Suddenly everyone looked dangerous even though all the agents and the cops told me that the kidnappers probably wouldn't even get on until I disembarked at the Brooklyn Bridge.

It wasn't even a five minute ride. I pushed the backpack under the last seat as far as it would go. I didn't look back as I got off the ferry.

Come and get it
. . .
just let my mother go
.

I took a taxi back to the house. A plain yellow cab just like millions of New Yorkers take every day. The windows weren't tinted, the carpet was dirty and the driver smelled like curry and cigarettes. It was comforting and bittersweet. The kind of ride that suited Annalise Harding—Brooklyn native—going home to the home I grew up in and the bedroom I'd be sleeping alone in, probably for a long, long time.