Convictions (25 page)

Her laughter stirred warm air across his face. "Sexy."

He kissed the pulse point at the base of her neck. "Thank you."

Then he nipped, kissed, sucked, or licked nearly every delicious inch of her. And fulfilled his vow of bringing her over the edge moments before his second release claimed him.

Hank lay on his back with his arms around Olivia, who'd curled up close to his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Her right arm rested across his waist while her left hand splayed through his chest hair. The bitter anger that usually burned in his gut was absent, and a surreal sense of peace surrounded him.

Olivia shifted, and her muscles tensed.

"Olivia?" Hank asked, fearful she was regretting what happened between them.

"Sorry. My bad knee cramped." A hitch in her breath told him it was still hurting.

"Maybe I can help." He eased out of her arms and moved downward to examine the scarred knee. "It's ugly," she said softly.

Brushing his fingers across the incision, he shook his head. "It's part of you, so it can't be ugly."

She chuckled. "I thought you were supposed to sweet-talk the woman
before
taking her to bed."

"Did I forget to do that?" he teased. "I'll have to remember next time." His caresses on her knee turned into a gentle massage.

"Will there be a next time?" Olivia asked.

The doubt and trepidation in her voice made him pause as he considered her question. "That's up to you, Liv."

She remained silent, and he resumed kneading her leg. Her skin was warm and smooth despite the scarring.

"I don't usually do this," she said.

Hank couldn't help but smile. "Lie in a barn naked while a man rubs your leg?"

Her snort sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. "That, too, but what I meant is I've only had two other lovers, and I dated them for weeks before..." She covered her eyes with her forearm.

Hank moved back up to lie beside her. He skimmed his hand along her bare flank. "What you're trying to say is you're not usually this impulsive?"

She lowered her arm and met his gaze. Pink tinged her cheeks. "Yes." She curved her palm around his jaw. "I think we both needed this, but I know nothing more can come of it."

Indignation boiled up, and Hank forced it down. She was right on both counts. And wasn't she only saying what he believed, too? "Friends?" he asked.

A relieved smile caught her lips. "Friends."

A friendly fuck wasn't exactly how he'd describe what he and Olivia had done, but he didn't have the words to express it. However, making love came damned close.

He took a deep breath and managed a weak smile. "Friends."

Irrationally feeling as if Olivia had cheapened what they'd shared, Hank stood and extended a hand to her. He pulled her to her feet, and they dressed in silence. A piece of straw stuck out from Olivia's hair, and he plucked it out.

"Thanks," she said, looking everywhere but at him. He suspected she was regretting her recklessness. "No problem."

Hank ushered her out of the barn, and a man stepped out of the shadows. Olivia stumbled back and barely stifled a scream.

"Enjoy your evening?" Mantle asked in a slimy voice that left no doubt he knew what had transpired between them.

"What're you doing here?" Hank demanded.

"I saw you and the lady here go into the barn, and when you didn't come out, I thought something might have happened." The leer in his expression exposed his real reason for spying. "Then I realized what you were doing, so I thought I'd see if I could get in on the action. Share and share alike." Mantle's gaze slid down Olivia, leaving her feeling like a lap dancer in a third-rate strip joint. "But I was too late."

Hank moved in front of Olivia as if to protect her, but she'd had enough of Mantle's innuendos. She sidestepped him to confront the weasely prisoner.

"What I do and where I go and who I am with is none of your business," Olivia said. She narrowed her eyes. "Besides, Hank is more than man enough for me. Why would I need—or want—anyone like you?" She curled her lips into a haughty smirk.

Mantle widened his eyes as if surprised. "Funny, Lenny didn't think he was man enough."

Olivia gasped, and her shocked gaze darted to Hank.

He growled and took a menacing step toward Mantle. His hands clenched into fists, and Olivia had the impression he wouldn't hesitate to beat the crap out of the smaller prisoner.

Despite her bewilderment, she inserted herself between the two men, facing Hank, and was shocked by his feral expression. Bracing her palms against the rock-hard chest she'd only minutes before been lying on, she said, "Don't."

"Get out of the way, Olivia," he said in a near snarl.

Olivia's gut clenched in fear, but she held her ground, believing in Hank's innate gentleness. She kept her voice low so Mantle wouldn't overhear. "No. You start something, and you'll be tossed back in prison to serve the remainder of your term. Is that what you want?"

Seconds seemed to stretch into hours as she waited, not giving an inch.

"Didn't he tell you about his little Lenny?" Mantle suddenly asked.

Although Olivia's back was to him, she could sense his cocky sneer. "Shut up, Mantle."

"Sure, no problem. But next time you should know more about a man before letting him screw you."

Mantle's words ate at Olivia like acid, and sickness churned through her. "Get out of here."

She listened to his dull footsteps fade away, and Hank's muscles lost some of their tension.

"I'm okay," Hank said.

She stared at him, willing him to meet her eyes, but he looked past her. Releasing him, she took a step back, and the shakes hit her. She crossed her arms to hide her telltale trembling. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"

He glanced at her but didn't hold her gaze. Instead, he moved away to the corral and leaned against the top pole, his back to her.

Uncertain if she wanted to know who Lenny was, Olivia couldn't ignore the air of misery around Hank. She joined him and studied his silhouetted profile in the evening's darkness. "You owe me an explanation."

His jaw muscle jumped into his cheek, and he clenched the post so tightly his knuckles whitened. "It was a long time ago."

Olivia swallowed hard. She didn't expect that, but prison changed people "Did you love him?"

He jerked around to face her. "What?"

She took a deep breath. Like her father said, in for a penny, in for a pound. "This Lenny. Did you love him?"

Hank's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He abruptly closed it and raked his hand through his hair. "God, no, it wasn't like that."

Although Olivia considered herself an open-minded person, relief swamped her. "So who was Lenny?"

Hank sagged against the corral. "My first cell mate. He was a kid, just turned eighteen. By then I knew enough to realize what would happen to him in the exercise yard." He toed the ground. "So I put the word out that he was mine."

Olivia glanced away. She'd put more than one boy like Lenny behind bars. "What did Lenny do?"

Hank grunted. "When he found out, he was pissed. Said he could take care of himself. He made it clear that he wasn't anyone's bitch. A week later he was found in the shower. Before he was stabbed in the gut, he'd been gang raped."

Bile rose in Olivia's throat, and she put a hand to her mouth. After a few moments of breathing deeply, she said, "I'm sorry."

Hank shrugged, affecting nonchalance. "Save your sympathies. I hardly knew him."

"But you tried to help him."

"Hell of a lot of good it did."

She rested a hand on his forearm. "But you tried," she repeated. "That's more than most people would've done."

Hank's gaze followed the stallion in the next corral. "I never tried again."

"You didn't have any friends in prison?"

"There were a couple of guys I got along with when I was working with the mustangs, but it didn't pay to get close."

Moisture blurred Olivia's vision, and she cleared her throat. "So why did Mantle say what he did?"

"Because I think he was one of the men who raped Lenny." Rage radiated from Hank's taut body.

Olivia's stomach curled with revulsion. "How did someone like him get chosen for the work release program?"

"Because he knows how to play the game." He didn't bother to mask his disgust.

"I'll talk to Dad in the morning and get him to send Mantle back to prison."

"On what grounds? He hasn't done anything, and I can't prove he had anything to do with Lenny's death."

Olivia's stubbornness and innate sense of justice wouldn't let it go. "His behavior has been inappropriate, and he's threatened you on more than one occasion. The early release work program wasn't created for men like him."

The firm set of Hank's lips told her he didn't approve of her meddling, but it wasn't just for him she was doing this. Because of her father's support of the program, any trouble within it would reflect badly on him. Olivia wouldn't let Mantle destroy what her father had created with the best of intentions.

The silence stretched out, and Olivia sighed. "I should get back to the house."

Hank nodded and escorted her across the yard to the porch.

"Will you be all right?" she asked. He appeared startled by her question. "I'll be fine. How about you?"

She smiled with a trace of embarrassment. "I have a feeling I'll sleep like a baby."

The sound of Hank's light laughter lifted her spirits. "Me, too," he said.

They stood motionless, and she swayed toward him, expecting him to kiss her good night. Instead, he pivoted on his heel and strode to the prisoners' barracks.

Olivia remained standing on the porch, uncertain if she was disappointed or relieved that he hadn't kissed her. Growing cold, she went into the house.

Despite what she'd told Hank, she doubted sleep would come easily.

Chapter Eighteen

Olivia awakened with a start and blinked in the darkness. It took her a few moments to figure out she was in her bedroom. However, instead of the nightmare that usually woke her, this dream was far from nightmarish.

She squeezed her thighs together and tried to ignore the erotic brush of her nightshirt across her sensitive breasts. The remembered feel of Hank's gentle touches merged with the kisses of dream-Hank as he made love to her with infinite tenderness.

As she lay there, the vestiges of her dream wisped away, leaving her wide awake and restless. Turning her head, she read the clock's lighted numbers: 2:04. Great.

Mom's hot chocolate isn't going to help me this time.

What—or, more accurately, who—could help her was sleeping in another building.

Tossing back her covers, Olivia rose. She slipped on her robe and slid her feet into a soft pair of moccasins. Her stiff knee made her move slowly, but she refused to dig her cane out of her closet.

As she limped down the dark hallway, the phantoms from her assault hovered around her. She reassured herself with the knowledge that her father's revolver wasn't far away, but the obsessive need to review in painstaking detail how long it would take to retrieve was waning. She smiled to herself as she crossed the living room to the large windows covered by drapes. The curtains hadn't been opened since she returned home.

Taking a deep breath to alleviate her trembling, she pulled the drapery cord, and the long curtains separated. A three-quarter moon lit the yard, and she forced herself to confront the darkness. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she picked out familiar shapes. Nothing moved save the occasional horse in a corral.

She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, and relief filtered through her. Although she knew a killer was out there somewhere, right now there was nothing lurking in the shadows. Not even the phantasms that had stalked her day and night since her attack.

A shuffling sound caught her attention, and she turned to see her father enter the living room. She was pleased to note that her heart hadn't tried to leap out of her chest. "What're you doing up, Dad?"

He joined her at the window. "I was just going to ask you the same question."

She shrugged, but elation bubbled up within her. "I was challenging my demons."

He tilted his head. "And who won?"

She smiled. "I finally took a round."

He gazed down at her. "I'm glad, Liv."

"Me, too." She blinked aside her tears and noticed how her father held his bent left arm close to his torso. "Are you all right?"

He smiled wryly. "Just some heartburn. I popped some Tums, so I should be as good as new in a few minutes."

Faint unease rippled through Olivia, but she returned his smile. "As long as you're sure it's just—"

"It is." He patted her shoulder. "You came in late last night."

Heat bloomed in Olivia's cheeks. "Cleanup took longer than usual."

"Right. Cleanup." The corners of his lips twitched.

She never could get anything past him and sighed in surrender. "I was with Hank."

He held up a hand. "No details, please."

She chuckled, but her humor faded as she recalled how the evening had ended. "Why did you choose Mantle to be part of the program?"

He seemed startled by the question. Then he shrugged. "His record was good, and Bob Vincent, the warden, recommended him. When I spoke with Mantle, he seemed sincere in trying to turn his life around. Why?"

Olivia crossed her arms. "He was waiting outside the barn when Hank and I, uh, came out. He was rude and tried to goad Hank into a fight."

Concern etched her father's brow. "Hank didn't take the bait, did he?"

"No, but if Mantle keeps pushing..." She worried her lower lip between her teeth. "Mantle's acted inappropriately around me at other times, too."

Her father stiffened. "How inappropriate?"

"Crude remarks and gestures. He hasn't tried to touch me. Yet."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you might think I was overreacting." Olivia lifted her chin. "I also didn't want you to think I was just coming up with another argument against the program. I'm starting to understand why you support it so fervently."