With Her Last Breath (19 page)

She thought of her father’s gentleness, her good, sturdy Midwestern upbringing and yet how the fates had called her here, to where her trail would end.

“Hello, Ed. Nice night, isn’t it?”

“Beth moved out. She’s here, isn’t she?” he demanded roughly, and within Celeste’s arms, Earth stirred and tensed, her claws digging in slightly.

Beth had come to Celeste for sanctuary, crying and worried about Maggie—and furious with Ed. “She’s here and she doesn’t want to see you, Ed. She knows that for a price, you put those men on to Maggie, giving them the impression that she would party with them.”

Time had twisted Beth’s emotions and she’d been vulnerable and alone when Ed had come into her life. Beth now fought her allegiance for the man who had rescued her from teenage prostitution. But Ed had betrayed her trust, had broken the final straw between them.

Strange, Celeste thought, because Ed did truly love Beth, in his way—with a sick mix of pride and possession and obsession, but something else deeper and more tender. He
would die for her, if need be. But he’d brewed his own dark fate and wasn’t the one Beth would come to love.

He moved toward Celeste, and Wind and Fire leaped from their cushions, sitting in front of her, their tails twitching slowly as though they were studying a mouse and waiting for it to move.

The night wind churned the wind chime goddess and stirred in Celeste’s long loose hair, sending it in a storm around her, churning in the hem of her long gown and catching the tinkling charms at her wrist. Theatrical—perhaps. Her peers would have sneered. But Celeste knew how to stir effects, how to use them, and now she focused on terrifying Ed with that intense, close look, as if she could see into his soul.

Ed stopped suddenly, his eyes widening fearfully. “Witch woman,” he muttered.

With a growl, he turned and took two furious steps away; then Celeste spoke quietly. “Ed, if you’re thinking about finding Maggie—”

He turned, his face puffed and red, fists white knuckled with rage. “She’s the cause of this, telling my girl to leave me, mixing in our business, giving Beth high and mighty ideas. Her mother was a tramp and so is she.”

“Ed, go home and sober up. Shirley loves you. She’s stayed with you all these years, even though she knew you were unfaithful, even though she knew you’d replaced her with Beth. Make some kind of a life with Shirley, Ed, or someone other than Beth. She’s working for me now and she’s making a new life away from you. She’s paid for what you’ve given her, more than enough. Maggie is staying with Nick Alessandro, and if he finds out who put those men on to her, he’ll come calling. As it is, you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t find out.”

She read the indecision and the fear quivering within Ed, scurrying around like a mouse seeking a hiding place. Nick Alessandro wasn’t a man to challenge, and Ed knew it. Just
to make certain Ed understood perfectly, Celeste focused on him. She would protect those dear to her, and summoned her power and wrapped it around her. “Don’t cross me, Ed,” she said quietly, and with a small movement of her wrist caused the charms to tinkle eerily. “It’s true. I am a witch. If you ever want to have sex again, just don’t cross me. What is tiny could be even smaller and very, very limp.”

His face turned white as he backed away. Ed hurried to his van and shot into the night. The wind chime goddess turned slowly within the silvery, musical pipes, and Celeste breathed quietly, waiting for another man, powered by fierce hatred and fury.

She lowered her face into the cat’s soft fur, taking what pleasure she could of life. “My fate is sealed, but how can I protect Maggie?”

The answer came in the wind, playing in her gown and lifting her scarf as Celeste walked into the night. It came in the silvery goddess, imprisoned within her musical pipes as completely as Celeste was trapped within her fate.

In meeting her past, Maggie would meet her future—it was for her to decide.

The San Diego night, colored by neon lights and traffic sounds and bawdy laughter, slid by Brent’s hotel window. The reflection in the glass was that of a scarred man, eyes burning bright within the hollows of their sockets, hair thin and limp over a skeletal face, the scrawny neck within a too large collar.

Maggie was out there, somewhere, and he’d find her.

None of this was his fault; she’d taken everything, betrayed him.

He folded his clean socks and put them into plastic bags, placing them on top of others in his suitcase.

She was his obsession, the woman who had ruined his life.

When she was under his power, his luck would change—he would make it change.

Maggie owed him, and when he found her, she would pay.

He turned back to the almost specterlike reflection in the cheap hotel’s window. “It’s only a matter of time, Maggie dear. There are always people to help me, because I have the power over them, just as I will have over you. The right person, that’s all I need to find you. Just one person will lead me to you.”

“D
o you have any idea what it does to a man, just to listen to you taking a shower? Those—those noises you make? To distract myself, so I wouldn’t get in there with you, I put all the furniture back and made the beds. Do you have to sound like you’re making love?” Nick demanded rawly when Maggie came out of the shower.

She knew him for a patient man, taking his time, setting his limits, pacing himself. But right now Nick looked just perfect—at the end of his leash, his body tense and desire etching the bones of his face.

He looked like a man uncertain of his control, and that suited Maggie perfectly. She reached to adjust the towel wrapped in a turban around her head and purposely allowed the one tied around her chest to slip a bit.

Nick’s stare locked onto that damp towel, knotted between her breasts, and her confidence to seduce him inched higher—because she needed him badly, the tenderness and safety that was Nick to wipe away the feel of being unclean
and used. He would touch her in just the right way, taking his time—and at the moment, his patience was a problem.

“I enjoy the shower’s space. You’re right about the camper being tiny. It was sheer luxury. Have I upset you?” she asked, moving toward him. Maggie enjoyed the rare feeling of being a female predator, set on capturing a wary male. She slid Nick her best flirtatious look, and his expression darkened. She enjoyed seeing the battle within him, lust fighting his control, that step-by-step assurance, that muscle twitching on his cheek, the searing burn of his eyes beneath those long black lashes. She strolled a fingertip down his cheek and circled that locked jaw. “Isn’t making love to me now in the rules, scheduled in your personal timetable?”

Nick leaned back against the counter, breathing deeply and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll bet you were the kid who couldn’t wait for dessert.”

Maggie slid the towel from her hair, rubbing it over the wet strands. She watched Scout pad into another room as if she were bored with the humans. “Sometimes dessert is better when it’s first.”

“Let me have that,” he said roughly and took the towel from her hands. “You jiggle in all the right places when you do it.”

“Mmm,” she crooned, giving herself to the luxury of his gentleness, breathing in the scent of his body and the hunger that filled it.

“Stop it.”

“Make me.”

His hand was in her hair, fisting it, and drawing her face up to his. His gaze burned, traveling over her skin, taking in her features. “I don’t want you to regret this later, Maggie. To blame your trauma for what might happen between us. I will not take advantage of you.”

“In this, I know what I want. You. What happened doesn’t change that.” His body heated hers, the desire written starkly on his hard-boned features. She moved her hips against the
thrust of his body. Her need was primitive and simmering. “This just kicked up the pace a bit, because you were taking too long.”

“I thought I’d let the situation ripen a bit. Get to know each other better. Make you trust me.”

Once she’d been made to feel undesirable, less than a woman and more like a machine. She needed to feel now, to leap into the current of heat between them. To take and to give, to know that she was a woman and alive. “Dating? You want to date? The situation is here and now. Stop talking.”

Nick closed his eyes, his expression grim. He shook his head. “I had planned quite the moment, seducing you. Watching your eyes turn that dark color of rich summer earth. You are a very earthy woman, dear heart. A physical one.”

“Talk…talk…talk…” Maggie smoothed his shoulders, found the taut resistance there, digging her fingers in slightly, because he wasn’t getting away. She stood on tiptoe to briefly kiss his lips. When she lowered, Nick’s gaze locked onto her breasts against him and his breath caught.

The hunger that she needed was right there, simmering hot and potent in his eyes, the taut lock of his body. She smoothed his chest with her open hands, his heart pounding, racing beneath her palm. “I am ripe, Nick. I’ve been bottled and aged. You can seduce me later.”

His grunt said her humorous allusion to his precious grapes had surprised him.

Maggie traced the hot flush of his cheeks, stroking the stubble of his jaw. “Love me now, Nick. Don’t think. Just—”

“I haven’t been with another woman since my wife. I’m not certain I can be gentle—”

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and his arms tugged her tight against him. His mouth was hot and hungry on her own, the edge of his teeth nipping erotically. His tongue tempted and seduced; his unsteady deep sound telling of a hunger that ran trembling down his body.

Maggie sighed inwardly, savoring the pleasure and the anticipation. Nick knew exactly where to put his big hands, open on her, drawing the towel away from the back, firmly, gently, until her body pressed against him.

Those hands cruised her body, cupping, heating, sensing shape and softness, and smoothing.

With a rough, deep sound, he slanted the kiss, fusing their lips together, and she tasted his passion, the demand, and the gift—but gentleness ran there, too, in the trembling of his hands as they cupped her breasts, finding the taut peaks.

Big and magnificent and so hot, Nick vibrated with life, hunger, and passion—and she was as greedy for him. Then the big hands beneath her bottom lifted her easily, and he continued to kiss her as he walked toward the bedroom.

She framed his face, started to go deep into his flavors, and stopped. “Nick?”

He was staring at her breasts, then his mouth closed over her nipple, searing it, and Maggie cried out, caught by the riveting heat leaping through her. “Nick…”

“You are truly ripe and sweet and you smell so good—” He nuzzled the hollow between her breasts, one hand edging deeper, intimately, sending a liquid jolt through Maggie. She hissed, her body taut as the constriction hit her, throwing back her head as pleasure went ripping through her.

In a soft, warm haze, she realized he’d passed the master bedroom and had entered a smaller one.

In the shadows of his room, he lowered her carefully upon the bed, standing over her. His eyes locked with hers as he ran his hand down her body, skimming the curves and hollows, the ridge of her hipbone and lower, to the inside of her thighs. “You’re quivering.”

His expression darkened as his hand rose to cup her, stroke her.

“Now is not the time for patience, Nick,” she managed breathlessly as she caught his hand and tugged hard.

He resisted just that moment and then stood to tear away
his clothing. He eased down on her, lodging full and hard over her, bracing his arms by her head, smoothing her hair on the pillow.

“I know,” he said softly, unevenly, at her slight frown. “But right now, your aroma and bouquet are incredible.”

She drew her nails down his back. “Action, not appreciation, okay?”

His nuzzle on her neck was playful and told her that he understood. Nick reached into a drawer by the bed.

“I had hopes,” he whispered rawly, explaining the condoms. Then he was back, easing gently into her.

Her body tightened, remembering trying so hard to have sex when the emotions weren’t there—

His back flowed beneath her palms as he began to kiss her, deep, long soft, drugging kisses that soothed and warmed.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against her throat, nuzzling her as his body shifted slightly, welcomed by hers.

She closed her eyes, pleasured by the fullness deep within. Then Nick began to move and the storm began whirling around her, mixing shadows with heat and breath and scents and sensations. Textures and strength and gentleness all blended into smooth movement growing faster, running ahead of Maggie, and she had to catch it—

In the distance, she heard the sound of Scout barking, as if she wanted attention.

Nick’s body tensed at the same time the riveting constrictions took her higher and tighter and burst, leaving her high keening sound and his deeper, raw one mating in the shadows.

Maggie closed her eyes and floated, cradling Nick, soothing them both from the summit, his face pressed against her throat.

The bed suddenly depressed with Scout’s weight and she nuzzled Maggie’s face, seeking reassurance. Maggie stretched out a hand for her pet, but when Nick would move away, kept him close by gently biting his ear. “Don’t go
anywhere. She sleeps with me. She’s worried you’re hurting me.”

He tensed and raised to frown down at her, a storm of fear and concern mixed in those wonderful eyes. “Did I? Maggie, it’s been so long for me that I—”

“For me, too. No, you were very careful. You didn’t hurt me.” In that moment, it seemed as though she had a family again: Nick, who had gone from a friend to a lover, and Scout, who had seen her through so much. In just those few safe, warm, pleasured heartbeats, she wasn’t alone or afraid. It seemed that the tension she’d known for years had slid away, allowing her to drift and relax. She smiled softly, knowingly, because Nick’s hands were already wandering over her, soothing and gentle.

“You made the bed.” Maggie wanted more, but Nick eased her beneath the sheets. They were deliciously smooth, a contrast to the volatile lovemaking of moments past, peace after the heated storm. She settled into the sheets with a luxurious sigh.

“I had hopes of just holding you tonight. But apparently you don’t believe in taking too much time for the flavors to ripen.” A smile ran through his deep tones, but she was too tired to open her eyes, sleep weighting her. She managed to reach out her hand and smooth his face, taking in the heat and the dampness and the truth between them. His kiss warmed her palm as she slid into a sleep she hadn’t had for years.

She was still sleeping when Nick came to spoon around her back, drawing her closer. “Scout is fine. Go back to sleep. Stop wiggling your bottom, or—”

“Promises, promises,” she whispered, turning to him. With a sigh and a smile, she gave herself to him, reveling in his body, already taut and hot against hers, his breath unsteady, his heart beating hard against her own, solid and dependable, those big, strong, and gentle hands moving over her, just like the man…

In Los Angeles, hatred pushed Brent Templeton from health spa to gym, shoving the picture of Maggie at anyone who might have known her.

A cockroach slid along the battered table in his cheap room as he poured another drink. Brent leaped to his feet, brushed the insect away with a newspaper and stomped it. Using rubber gloves, he cleaned the area meticulously and used disinfectant. It was Maggie’s fault that he’d had to use cheap rooms, cleaning before being somewhat comfortable in them.

One of Brent’s calls had paid off, an upscale gym manager remembered Maggie working for him. Then one day a real estate magnate had come in, recognized Maggie from San Francisco, and had pressured the manager to fire her. The manager received several calls from prominent San Francisco clients who added pressure, and he’d let her go. She had acted like she was expecting it and did not object.

But then, Brent had had a hand in ruining her career and her business, too. From his motel window, he looked at a woman jogging down the street, hoping—but the woman didn’t have Maggie’s rich chestnut hair.

His finger circled Maggie’s snapshot. “Glenda looked like you, but I much prefer the real thing, not a substitute. I wonder how you’ll look when I tell you that I gave Glenda that last shot in her arm. She welcomed it like a lover, begging for it, and in my way, I put her out of her misery.”

He picked up a picture of Maggie and Glenda, young women hugging each other, the same bright, penny-colored hair. “I’m a hunter and I’ll find you. I’ll find you,” he repeated confidently.

His face loomed in the mirror, not a pretty sight. “In the year and months since you disappeared, they put me in the hospital a couple of times, and I don’t have the resources I once did, but I’ll find you. Please don’t be dead. That would ruin the pleasure of killing you—slowly.”

Then with the air of the methodical businessman he’d once been, a fast-moving entrepeneur, Brent picked up the tele
phone and began calling gyms and spas, looking for information.

He would find Maggie and when he did, she would be punished.

Nick fastened the locket’s gold chain at Maggie’s neck as she stood in front of him.

So much for taking his time and earning Maggie’s trust. Their lovemaking had been pure released hungry lust, and they’d burned themselves into exhaustion.

Shocked? Yes—at himself and at Maggie’s wide-open giving and demands, devouring both of them. And it wasn’t enough.

She’d startled him, a physically strong woman needing a desperate, mindless release. Nick damned himself for his lack of control, making love with Maggie when she had just been through a trauma and fighting the past. He could only wait now, and try to set an even, steady pace between them.

Maggie had been full and ripe and bursting with all the right flavors, and the aftertaste only added to his desire to sip again.

In the early morning, with dawn skipping through the kitchen’s window, Nick mocked his plans for dating Maggie, gently easing into the friendship he needed, perhaps as much as the sex.

But then, after three times last night and another this morning, he wasn’t certain about anything—except he knew little about Maggie, about her nightmares, about her distrust of people coming too close.

When he opened the shower curtain to step in with her, he could see her fear, fear she’d kept at bay earlier. Now, although Maggie had struggled valiantly to be casual, her smile was wobbly, so Nick had taken a brisk shower and stepped out, leaving her alone.

What had happened to her, other than Maggie’s love for Glenda and the pain caused by her sister’s decline? he wondered.

Time, Nick cautioned himself. Give yourself and Maggie time.

But, hey. He’d already stepped into the fire too soon, hadn’t he? Unable to stop, to think, to do anything but feed on their hunger—and it still simmered between them—until he’d heard those incredible sounds and had stepped into that shower…

Even now, with Maggie in front of him, her hair damp and fragrant, he wanted to slide his hands beneath the shirt covering her and feel her body, the curves and the strength all covered with incredibly soft skin. He’d tasted her passion, and he wanted more…far more. He wanted her trust and her friendship.