Kiss a Stranger (17 page)

             
I took this as my cue to go. Whatever was going on, Jamie was well aware of it. So I took a last bite out of my bagel and said, “I’m going to have a shower.”

             
They didn’t acknowledge me as I stepped out, but as I climbed the stairs I could hear them having a heated conversation.

Chapter Seventeen
Unimaginably

Sitting on the edge of the bed
later that night, I watched him pack a small suitcase of clothes. He was going away for a week. We’d never been away from each other for that long, and I was bummed out to say the least.

             
“I’m leaving you my apartment key,” he told me as he zipped up his suitcase.

             
“Why?”

             
He shrugged. “Because in case anything ever happens, I want you to know you have another roof you can sleep under.”

             
“What could possibly happen?”

             
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact as he said, “Claire, the truth is I’m giving you the key because I want our relationship to take that extra step.”

             
I stilled. “Oh.” Sometimes I could be so dense. “I didn’t even consider you were thinking along those lines.”

             
His jaw clenched as he turned away from me and sorted through his closet endlessly. Having not pulled a single thing out, he seemed to be doing this as a distraction.

             
“We’ve been inseparable,” he muttered thoughtfully. “You’re imprinted in my mind. How could I not be thinking along those lines? Have I not been doing this right?”

             
I frowned. “Doing what right?”

             
Exhaling, he finally turned, casting me a lost look. “I don’t know the first thing when it comes to relationships. I’m just as lost as you.”

             
“Why is that?”

             
“Because of my life,” he said, hesitating. “The travel and the…”

             
“But you haven’t been traveling much at all.”

             
He chuckled disdainfully. “That’s because I didn’t want to be away from you, and it’s caused some problems lately. I’m overdue on taking care of issues I should have dealt with ages ago.”

             
He looked at me again. “If I’m not doing right in vocalising how I feel then…”

             
“Then what?” I eagerly asked.

             
“Then let me know and I’ll try to do a better job.”

             
I smiled. “So try better and tell me how you feel.”

             
God, sometimes he could look at me so intensely it gave me the same reaction to him touching me. This was one of those moments, and it made my heart thump faster.

H
e said softly, “I feel like I’m dreaming. I feel like you’re too good to be true. Like any second someone’s going to shake me awake and I’ll have been in a coma these last few months.”

             
I swallowed a lump, and I was sure my eyes glistened with unshed tears.

             
“I feel like that too,” I replied.

             
He smiled softly and approached me. He knelt down in front of me and rubbed his thumb along my cheek sweetly.

             
“You’re special to me,” he said.

             
“What makes me special to
you
?”

             
“You’re different.”

             
“And what’s so great about that?”

             
As he roamed his finger over my scars, he answered, “I love different.”

             
He kissed me softly then and his hand slowly descended, gripping me possessively, hunger in his touch.

             
“We have time, you know,” he whispered against my lips.

             
“For more yogurt tasting, you mean?”

             
He chuckled. “Especially yogurt tasting.”

             
“You’re sick.”

             
“And you love it.”

             
Oh yes, I admitted to myself as he pushed my back against the mattress.

             
I fucking loved it.

             
“And do you know what else you love even more?” he huskily asked as he stripped me of my shorts and pressed his body against mine.

             
“What?” I let out, closing my eyes to the feel of his hands roaming me.

             
“Me.”

             
I stilled and opened my eyes. We both paused for a long moment.

             
“Yeah,” I finally admitted, swallowing hard again. “I do.”

             
“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me you love me.”

             
“I love you.”

             
“Unequivocally?”

             
“Unimaginably.”

             
He stroked my hair away from my face and nodded. “I love you too, Claire Landon,” he declared with conviction. “Beyond the depths of my soul, I truly do.”

             
“Really?”

             
“Have I ever lied?”

             
“No.”

             
“Then there you go.”

             
I felt warm everywhere. This was by far the best moment of my life.

             
He captured my lips with his and kissed me softly and slowly. No tongue action, no hastiness for more. Just light brushing of the lips, feeling them move and press against my own. I sighed contentedly against him, before he moved away and dropped down next to me. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me over top of him.

             
Those long hands roved up and down my back, his finger in particular inching over my spine. It tingled under his touch. Oh, I liked this intimacy. This slow, no worded dance of the lips and hands. I rested my breasts against his chest and they ached at the contact.

             
He flicked his tongue against my mouth, and my body heated immediately. Something about his tongue drove me wild. It made our kiss transition immediately into something more. His eagerness bellowed out of him, until it was teeth and tongue and licks.

             
“Put my cock inside you,” he demanded.

             
I sat up and gripped his length in my hand. I pumped him twice before I situated myself over him. I slowly took his tip to me and sank down. We both moaned at the same time as I took him all the way inside. I was all feeling now, my eyes glazed over, my body moving slowly with no particular rhythm. He gripped my hip tightly with one hand and helped me along. Thrusting in, thrusting out. He breathed hard, trying not to take over as his other hand drifted up my body, traveling to my breast, my collarbone, my neck and back down again.

             
Just like always, he looked at me. Not my body. But into my eyes. Panting heavily in his pool of pleasure, his eyes remained solidly locked to mine.

             
And it didn’t ever feel like an invasion. It felt good and right. I stared back into the warmth of his beautiful grey irises and moved at my own pace, quietly breathing and quietly groaning.

             
“Perfect,” he whispered as he drove himself into me, losing every ounce of control as we neared the end. “Take me all the way in.”

I savoured the times we made love.
He never went too hard, and I never raced to have my needs met selfishly. This was real sex. This was a real connection. This wasn’t banshee screaming, over-the-top fucking.

             
Everything about this was real.

Chapter Eighteen
Because this concerns your life

It was mid-morning when Ben left to the airport. I offered to drop him off, but he adamantly refused, insisting on taking a random taxi. I always wondered why, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

             
I thought about it a lot on the way home, but I kept drawing blanks. Just like the damn phone thing. I’d tried cornering him about it once, saying if there was an emergency, I needed a phone to contact him on. He ended up giving me a number, but it was to his home phone.

             
Who the hell still used home phones these days?

             
But it was a small victory, so I couldn’t really be that upset. Plus I was still on cloud nine since he’d told me he loved me. Nothing seemed to matter as much as that. Someone loved
me
, and he wasn’t just anyone, he was my dream man. It was surreal.

             
Just as I neared the main road that connected to my residential street, sirens erupted. I looked at my rear view, shocked to find a police car right at my bumper signalling for me to pull over. What the hell?             

I parked on the emergency lane and turned the car off. The police officer stepped out of his car and walked over. He tapped on the window and I wound it down.

              “Have I done something wrong?” I asked cautiously.

             
“Do you know how fast you were going over the speed limit, Miss?” he sternly replied.

             
My brows came together. “I wasn’t speeding, officer.”

             
“You were speeding,” he adamantly stressed. “Ten kilometres over the limit.”

             
Bullshit! “Seriously, sir, I was not speeding –”

             
“Licence and registration, Miss.”

             
Dickhead.

             
I took out my licence and registration form and passed them to him. I tried my hardest not to give him a stink eye and run him over five times. This was bullshit. Was he drunk? Or was he in the mood to abuse his power today?

             
He turned around and ambled back to his car. I waited for some time before he came back over and said, “Miss Landon, I’m going to ask that you step out of the car and come with me, please.”

             
I gaped at him. “What?”

             
As though I was mentally inept, he said it slower. “Step out of the car and come with me, Miss Landon.”

             
“May I ask why?”

             
“The police want to have a word with you.”

             
“Why?”

             
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to find out.”

             
Feeling slightly panicked, I stepped out of the car. “You’re not going to cuff me or anything, are you?” I asked him.

             
He looked irritably at me. “Just come with me.”

             
I followed him to the car and sat in the back like a damn criminal. If anyone was around, I’d have been humiliated.

             
“What about my car?” I said as he drove past it.

             
“It’ll be there when you’re done,” he replied.

             
Yeah, but would it be in one piece? The amount of times I’d seen cars on the side of the road that were graffiti-ridden with windows smashed gave me more than enough cause for concern.

             
He didn’t drive long before we stopped in front of a small, local police station. We walked in, passing a few officers and an empty receptionist desk. I was led into a small, windowless room and asked to sit behind a creaky, old table. Then I was left alone, with nothing to read and nothing to do.

             
An hour passed. Maybe two. It felt like a slow eternity spent memorizing the bland room, looking over every inch of it. I felt confused and panicked. For the first fifteen minutes I wondered if I’d done something wrong. What the hell was wrong with my licence? Had it expired? No way. Impossible. Hypothetically, even if it had, they wouldn’t be doing this to me right now.

             
The rest of the time I was facing the wall of ignorance I’d put up the last few months. This had something to do with Ben. I knew it from the bottom of my soul, and forcing myself to come to grips with this wasn’t easy. It meant having to admit I knew all along I was right – that what he had been up to was no good.

             
But just how bad was it? That was the real question, and I dreaded the answer.

             
When the door finally opened, I sat up straight in my chair and looked at the man walking through. Who I saw made me go instantly still with shock.

I shook my head
, feeling like my whole world was suddenly spinning off its axis.

             
“Do you need anything?” I’d asked him that day in Harbour town.

             
“Not yet,” he’d said.

             
Fuck.

             
He was in another cheap suit, carrying a file in his hands. He smiled at me in greeting and said, “Hi, Miss Landon, I’m Detective Malcolm Hardman –”

             
“And a stalker,” I interrupted angrily. “Don’t think for a second I don’t remember you in Harbour town, following me around. Next time a bit of discreetness wouldn’t kill.”

             
Looking unbothered, he took a seat opposite of me and laid the file down on the table. “I was just doing my job, Miss Landon,” he replied with ease.

             
“Why would following me be a part of your job?”

             
“It just was that day.”

             
Sure it was.
I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair again, glowering at him.

             
“I’ve got some questions I need to ask you,” he started, bringing his hands together over the file.

             
“I’m not under arrest,” I retorted. “I don’t have to answer shit. In fact, I should get up and leave right now.”

             
He chuckled. “You’re not under arrest, and you’re not being recorded right now either. This is strictly between you and me. We have confidentiality between us –”

             
“Just cut to the chase, Detective.”

             
He nodded, boring those blue eyes into mine. For a middle-aged, cheap suited Detective, he wasn’t that hard on the eyes. Not just in appearance, but his body language was relaxed and friendly. He was the type that could easily make someone feel at ease, and I didn’t want that someone to be me.

             
“You’ve been in a relationship with Ben Costigan for some time now, isn’t that right.” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

             
I shrugged and offered no response.

             
“We have it on very good authority that he’s a dangerous man, Miss Landon.”

             
“Okay,” I muttered indifferently. I knew exactly what was going on. They wanted Ben. They wanted to pump me for information. To sell him out. There was no way in hell any of that was going to happen.

             
Besides, I’d allowed myself to be ignorant about that side of him. So if they were seeking answers, they weren’t going to find any from me.

             
“He’s a murderer,” Detective Hardman stressed.

             
Oh, whatever.

“No, he’s not,” I snapped back, and I instant
ly regretted doing it. I didn’t want him to see me so affected by his accusations. I preferred keeping my feelings for Ben close to my chest.

             
He sighed and looked sympathetically at me. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. The man is linked to gangs all throughout the country, Miss Landon, and all across the world. He launders money for mafias – the real nasty kind you don’t come back unscathed from – and sometimes he plays a little dirty for a bigger slice of the pie. I’ll spare you
those
photos.”

             
I cut my emotions off and stared into space, ignoring his words. Ben wasn’t like that. He wasn’t a murderer! Bullshit. I slept next to that man almost every single day for the last couple months. He wasn’t crazy. He was everything good in this world.

             
I’d have known if I’d been with a crazy person. I really would, I stressed to myself.

             
Right?

             
“Now I’m here to help you,” he continued, taking on a more serious note. “The last thing I want to do is work against you.”

             
I sneered. “Work against me? You’ve got nothing on me, Detective.”

             
“When Ben Costigan goes down – and I promise you with every fibre of my being that he will one day – do you think you’ll come out of this untouched? Someone who has been there for him, perhaps collaborating with him –”

             
“Collaborating with him? That’s bullshit and you know it,” I interrupted with a cutting glare. “I’m sorry, Hardman, but you’re not getting shit out of me. You’ve stooped this low by resorting to me because you’re desperate, and desperate means you don’t have shit on Ben. And you don’t have shit on Ben because he’s nothing like you say he is. He’s a good man. So how about we stop wasting our time here. I’ve got a life to get back to –”

             
“I’m not finished, Miss Landon –”

             
“Yeah, well I am! And now if you’ll excuse me, tell the guys out there to let me go and give me back my licence and car keys. And if I find out anything has happened to my car –”

             
“Believe me, you’ll want to hear this.”

             
“Why?”

             
“Because this concerns your life.”

             
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. I looked up at the ceiling and started counting the tiles while I heard him open the file and shuffle through papers.

             
“I’m going to show you a photo, and I want you to tell me if you recognize this man,” he said.

             
With an exaggerated sigh, I peered at the photo he slid to me. It was of a dark haired man with dark brown eyes and a bit of stubble on his face. I raised a brow at Hardman.

             
“I don’t know him,” I told him. God, what a waste of time this was.

             
“Look a little harder, Miss Landon,” he pressed, tapping the photo in front of me, “and while you’re looking hard at him, I want you to think of the description you gave police the night you were attacked twelve months ago.”

             
My eyes shot up to his. “What does my attack have anything to do with Ben?”

             
He didn’t respond for a moment, allowing my mind to wrap itself around what he’d told me to do. I tried to remember the description I had given of the women that attacked me and the man I’d almost had sex with. I was really drunk that night, so my descriptions were murky at best. All I recalled of the man was that he had dark hair and dark eyes.

             
I glanced back down at the photo. Was this him? How long had the police known this?

             
“Why are you bringing this to me now?” I asked incredulously. “How long have you known about him?”

             
Hardman suddenly looked conflicted. “What I’m about to say will hurt, Miss Landon.”

             
“I don’t care. Just say it.” No, I did care actually. I was terrified, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what was about to come.

             
He tapped the photo once more. “That here is Joshua Malik and…” he paused. “One year ago he worked for Ben Costigan. He disappeared out of the country a week after you were attacked.”

             
Time was slowing down all around me. My breathing thinned as I continued to stare at the photo. There were no thoughts, just feelings – and the most prominent one was confusion.

             
“No,” I said with a shake of my head, “Ben doesn’t have men working for him, just his store employees –”

             
“Of course he has men working for him. Don’t be naïve, Miss Landon. You think he’d allow them around you? Has he ever allowed you to see into his work life at all?”

             
“No, but –”