Unleashed #4 (10 page)

That night Kara and I
made a simple dinner in the cabin, pasta with meat sauce and red
wine. Out of nowhere, she asked me about my family.

“So you really don’t
have anyone?” she asked, seeming to feel the weight of it.

“Thanks for putting
it like that,” I joked as I took a sip of wine. I didn’t like
pity parties. I wanted to lighten things up. “Not pulling any
punches, are you?”

She nearly choked on
her forkful of spaghetti. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she
sputtered, blushing.

“No?” I couldn’t
help but tease again. It was great to see her energy returning, some
of our usual banter rising again to the surface.

“I don’t mean to be
insensitive about it,” she insisted.

I nearly snorted. “You
don’t need to wear kid gloves with me, Kara. I’ve been on my own
most of my life. I’m used to it.”

“But your father
might still be alive,” she continued. My hand tensed on the stem of
my wine glass. I didn’t like where she was going with this. Let
sleeping dogs lie, and if anyone was a dog it was my deadbeat dad.

Not picking up on my
tension, or choosing to ignore it, she went on. “You could find out
who he is, at least. You’ve got the resources. If you hired a
private investigator they could probably locate him. He might be
living near here right this minute.”

“Kara.” I exhaled,
trying not to let my anger rise to the surface. She’d just been
through a severe trauma. There was no need to yell at her. I needed
to calm and soothe her, not frighten and intimidate. “I’m not
interested.”

“But don’t you
wonder sometimes?” she persisted. “What’s he like? Maybe he
looks just like you? Maybe you guys have the same—”

“Enough.” I looked
at her sternly. “It may be hard for you to understand. I know your
father and you were tight. But I’m not tracking down that bastard.
I’m not going to call him up and beg him to take me to lunch. See
if he wants to toss around a baseball in the park.”

“It doesn’t have to
be like that, Declan.” She looked pained.

“It’s not going to
happen.” That wound had scabbed over long ago. No good could come
of picking it open.

“OK.” She sighed.
“I’ve made you talk about something you don’t want to. Now I’m
going to make myself.” I noticed her hand shook as she brought a
napkin to her lips, dabbing away non-existent red sauce. “Have you
heard anything about…” She paused, her lips trembling.

“Yes,” I answered
quickly, wanting to save her the pain of having to say Lymon’s
name. Shit-sucking scumbag would be more appropriate. “I haven’t
wanted to bring it up.”

“I know.” She
shuddered, but gave me a frail smile. “You’ve been taking such
good care of me.”

I winced. She was being
too generous. I was at fault. For all of it. At least I could ease
her mind on one point. “You don’t have to worry about either of
them again, Kara. They’re both going to go to prison for a long
time.”

“Really?” She sat
up, looking stronger, buoyed by the news. “Even though they
didn’t…they didn’t get around to—”

“Yes,” I answered
again, suppressing another wince. I couldn’t bear to think of what
she’d suffered. “Turns out they were wanted for a lot of things.
They were not good men.”

She grimaced and
brought her hands to her face. “Do I even want to know?”

“No.” I honestly
didn’t think she did. A prostitution ring, a meth lab and
distribution network. Lymon had not played by the rules. Now he’d
pay for it, year after year in a maximum security prison. I hoped
they locked him up and threw away the key.

She burst out into
tears and I rushed to her, gathering her in my arms.

“Kara, I’m so
sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her sobs wracked her body, her ribs heaving
and the anguish pouring out of her. It nearly broke me, made me wild,
frantic to comfort her. “I should have gotten there sooner. You
never would have been there if I’d helped you in the first place. I
never should have—”

“Declan, stop,” she
managed. “Just hold me.” I brought her to the couch and we stayed
like that for a while, her crying onto my chest while I stroked her
hair. After she fell asleep I moved us to the bed and she clung to my
side, molding her body to mine.

That night she woke
once, terrified, fighting off a nightmare. I held her to my chest and
whispered soothing words, feeling her frantic breathing slowly regain
its resting rhythm. She stilled, ear against the beating of my heart
while I played with her long, silky locks.

“I’m sorry,” I
murmured, knowing she was asleep, wondering if I could ever say it
enough. I was sorry about so many things, and I kept adding new items
to the list. Like our dinner conversation. She’d tried to encourage
me to find my father. I’d shut her down like a meddling nuisance.
She was just trying to do what she thought was right.

We were both orphans, I
realized. Neither one of us had a mother or a father. But now, we
could have each other. If she’d let me.

Kara made me think
crazy thoughts, the kind I’d never had before. With her, I could
imagine having children, beautiful kids who looked just like her and
acted just like her and maybe every now and then would tolerate their
big, gruff father.

I still knew I didn’t
deserve her, but I knew I wanted to try. I wanted to try like hell
the rest of my life to be the right man for her. I didn’t know if
she’d let me, if she’d say yes, but now that I’d almost lost
her, three times over, I knew I couldn’t take that pain again. I
had to have Kara by my side every day for the rest of our lives. What
before had seemed impossible now seemed as necessary as breathing
air. How could I hem and haw, pace and worry about whether I was the
marrying kind when I felt deep in every bone of my body that we
belonged together? Click, like two puzzle pieces. Done. No need to
think it over, wonder why or how and whether, it just was the truth.

At least for me. I
didn’t know how she felt about forever. And it was too soon to ask.
I needed to give her time before I asked her if she’d spend the
rest of her life with me, letting me do everything in my power to
care and provide for her. For now, I’d just hold her close, knowing
it might not last.

§

Monday morning, I was
sitting in the kitchen listening to messages on my phone. My lawyer
Stephen had called. There was something urgent to discuss. There was
always something urgent to a lawyer. I owned upwards of 35 different
properties across the U.S. Not a day went by without something urgent
to discuss.

As I was calling him
back, Kara walked in wearing nothing but a silky robe, slightly open.
Just getting a glass of water, no big deal. I knew something that got
big the second I saw her. Hot damn, the unconscious sexiness of that
woman leaning against the door of the refrigerator. I needed to stand
in front of the fridge to cool off, too.

She drew her long locks
up into a messy ponytail, exposing the nape of her neck. She surveyed
the contents, oblivious to me, contemplating whether she’d like a
bite to eat. I knew what I’d like to bite and eat. With her arm up,
the silk of the robe crept its way up her thighs. I could see a
sliver of her long, slender leg, her soft, smooth skin. The robe
parted in a V down her chest, revealing the start of her generous
cleavage. I shifted in my seat, my huge shaft pressing against my
jeans.

I tried to look away. I
really did. Kara didn’t need me pawing at her. She needed someone
to make her feel safe. Restraint, I needed to hold back. She needed
reassurance. Not all men were monsters. I’d done so much wrong in
my life, now it was time to do the right thing.

I’d talk to my lawyer
Stephen, not grope Kara. I’d just have to do it in a different room
where I couldn’t see her luscious curves. I knew I’d still be
thinking about them, though.

Kara

I’d tried to seduce
him and I’d failed. He had barely touched me at all this past week.
OK, for a lot of it I’d been sleeping. And there’d been some
crying, too, and some sitting and staring out the window. I’d been
through a trauma. I wasn’t trying to pretend it didn’t happen.

But, come on, now.
Didn’t Declan feel it? There was such a current of electricity
flowing between us, a live crackling wire of chemical attraction.
Sharing this romantic cabin with him, a retreat in the woods, every
time I saw him he about took my breath away. As he stood and looked
out the window, he was the view for me. His shirt hanging open over
his bare, muscular chest, those tattoos licking and dancing along his
skin, a touch of stubble along his rugged jaw. I practically needed
to travel around the house with a fan so I didn’t jump him.

I’d always felt that
way around Declan, of course. But now it was so much worse after I
knew exactly how good he could make me feel. He could take me higher
than I’d ever imagined I could get, and I needed more of it. Now.

But he was treating me
like a broken vase. I’d had a crime committed against me, but I
wasn’t a crime scene, myself. I didn’t have a Caution Police Line
Do Not Cross tape blocking me off. But it was like he didn’t want
to touch me anymore. Rationally, I knew what was most likely going on
with him. He was holding back, thinking I needed time on my own to
heal.

But I had to admit, I
felt worried. The road with Declan all these years hadn’t exactly
been smooth. It had always been fraught with doubt and confusion and
some of that seeped in once again. We’d had that moment together,
that amazing night when we’d fallen into each other’s arms and
declared our love for each other strong and true. But then all hell
had broken loose. And he’d barely touched me since. A small voice
in my head whispered, “What if he’s lost interest? What if he’s
only here with you out of a sense of guilt and obligation?”

I stood in the kitchen,
sipping a glass of water. Just me, alone, in my slinky silk robe that
I’d purposely left slightly open. I’d thought it was a sure
thing, flashing him a few inches of upper thigh, a peek of cleavage,
the nape of my neck. But he’d left the room. Out the window, a lush
green summer morning bloomed in full effulgence. A small, brown bird
twittered on a branch, its song loud and proud despite its modest
appearance. I smiled and tipped my glass at him, saluting his spirit.

That was the way to
live life, singing loudly on a branch in the sunshine. I felt
determined to do that, myself. True, what Lymon had threatened to do
to me was awful. Sitting tied in that chair had felt like waking up
from a nightmare and finding out it was actually real. Yes, I still
had moments where I would recall, unbidden, how Lymon had leered at
me, or uttered such menacing threats. I’d see a knife in the
kitchen and flinch. Post-traumatic stress. I understood that was a
natural part of recovery.

But Declan had rescued
me, hadn’t he? He’d arrived just in time, stopping them before
they had the chance to do the horrible things they’d said they
would. Declan had taken a knife in the back for me, felled the
dragons and carried me out in his strong, loving arms.

If I walked around now
cowering and quaking, letting shadows and creaks in the house scare
me, I knew that meant letting Lymon and the goon win. If they
succeeded in making me fearful, I’d never really escape. I wasn’t
going to let them do that to me.

The real me, the happy,
effervescent woman who enjoyed life and couldn’t wait to find out
what was next? I remained untouched and whole. The honest truth was
that I was enjoying the hell out of my days with Declan. We’d been
staying at the cabin in the resort for a week now and I’d never
experienced such lazy, total decadence. In all my life I’d never
just done nothing. Sleeping and sleeping some more. Hitting the hot
tub. Walking in the woods. Enjoying all of Declan’s kind
ministrations, the cups of tea and blankets he brought me even though
it was the middle of summer, so sweet, as if keeping me warm would
help chase away the lingering pain.

I was starting to
realize that I was just fine. I was more than fine. I was truly,
deeply, madly head-over-heels in love.

Sometimes I thought he
felt exactly the same way. He’d declared it, after all, that night
at the ranch. But now he was holding back. I’d catch him watching
me, a pained expression on his face. Sometimes he seemed his old
self, teasing me and joking around. But then he’d catch himself and
stop, as if remembering that he needed to be more careful. Like I was
fine, delicate china, the kind you only used on special occasions for
fear it would break. I wanted him to use me every day.

I sat down at the
kitchen counter and started toying with a brochure laying there. It
was something from his company, a glossy portfolio showcasing some of
his luxury properties. The kind of thing you’d give a potential
client or investor. I traced the letterhead: Obsidian Investors.

He’d named his
company after something I’d said one night, a bit of rock I’d
found and given to him. I’d teased him that his heart was cold and
dark. That had never been true, not then and sure as hell not now. I
always knew he had this side to him, romantic, caring, loving. And
he’d named his company after something I’d said one night six
years ago. I’d been with him all along. The man blew me away.

But he was, literally,
blowing me off. How much walking around in a skimpy, silky gown could
a girl do before she gave up? At least one more time, that’s how
much. And this time, I’d get more direct.

I found Declan in the
bedroom sitting in a chair, leaving a message for his lawyer on his
phone. I walked around behind him, brought my hands to his shoulders
and massaged, kneading my fingers into the hard wall of his muscles.

“Unh,” he groaned,
putting his phone down. I loved the sound, the look of him with his
eyes closed in pleasure. The feel of him, his massive shoulders, his
broad back, had my whole body tingling with anticipation. He felt so
tense, as if he’d been holding himself stiff for all of the past
week. He needed to unwind.