Authors: Rebecca York
What if she’d come home for Thanksgiving and gotten back with Steve? It was nice to think that she would have picked up their relationship. But it would have been too complicated. It was one thing to sneak around for a few delicious weeks without her parents knowing what she was doing. It was quite another to bring the town bad boy home to dinner.
From bad boy to cop to PI. All in a very appealing package. He’d looked lean and hungry when they’d said good-bye eight years ago, clasping each other so tightly that she’d thought he wasn’t going to let her go. He was still lean, but it was with an athlete’s toned body. And he had a startlingly firm moral compass. How many guys would have stopped themselves from making love to her a few minutes ago when she was practically throwing herself at them?
When she’d met Warren, she’d told herself that she was getting into a normal relationship, not some furtive tryst with a guy who was too much of a loner to settle down. Now she knew she’d gotten it exactly backwards.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a car door slam outside and tensed.
“It’s me,” Steve called as soon as he’d opened the door, obviously aware that she was going to be anxious.
He switched on a flashlight, sweeping it around the room and directing the light away from where she still sat on the floor with her back propped against a wall.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” It might not be true, but it was the only answer she could give.
Scrambling for something else to say, Leah whispered, “I’m sorry it’s so dark.”
“That’s the way it should be if you wanted the house to look like nobody’s here.”
He laid the flashlight down, aiming it against the far wall where it gave enough light to see the bags of food he’d brought.
He spread several napkins on the floor, then opened the bags, setting a wrapped sandwich in front of each of them, plus small cartons of cole slaw and paper dishes of deep fried onion rings.
“I didn’t ask what you wanted to drink. Coffee okay?”
“Fine.”
When he joined her with his back against the wall, she unwrapped her sandwich.
“I got them to put several of the mini crab cakes into each bun,” he said.
She took a bite. “I’d forgotten how good this was.”
“Eastern Shore comfort food,” he said. For generations, many of the men in town had made their living on the water—fishing, crabbing or tending oyster beds. Or like Candy’s former husband, shipbuilding.
Leah took another appreciative bite. “I tried making crab cakes for Warren. He never got into them.”
“Where is he from?”
“New Jersey.”
“And that’s where the two of you live?”
“No we moved to the northern part of Baltimore.”
“Why?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I think he wanted to establish his own outpost.”
“It’s an upscale part of town.”
“Yes, but I’m not going back.”
He answered with a tight nod. “Good.”
She wanted to touch him, maybe to thank him for not suggesting she should return to a bad marriage because that was what a wife was supposed to do. Instead she spooned up some of the cole slaw. It was also good—with that down-home tang she remembered.
“So you came here. What were you planning to do after that?” he asked.
“Maybe drive out West, get a low-wage job where I could work ‘off the books,’ save enough money to get a new identity.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “Of course, a new identity is probably pretty expensive.”
“You said you didn’t have girlfriends who would help you. Why didn’t you come to me?” he asked suddenly.
She kept her gaze focused on the food. “I knew I’d made a mistake getting mixed up with Warren. And I was ashamed to have you know about it.”
He answered immediately—with no hesitation. “You didn’t have to feel that way.”
“I should have known better.”
“Don’t say that. He knew how to fool you.”
“You mean manipulate.”
Ignoring the interjection, he went on, “Plenty of women end up in that situation. It takes guts to get yourself out—when he’d cut you off from any reasonable avenue of help.”
“I waited long enough.”
“But you did it. On your own.”
“Yeah,” she answered, thinking about the course of her life. It had gradually deteriorated. But the realization that she was in serious trouble had only gradually crept up on her.
“Do you know why he got violent?”
“I thought it had something to do with his business.”
“Which is what?”
“Basically, retail. He has several furniture . . . galleries, he calls them. And in the past few years, he acquired a couple of electronics stores. But I think he was worried about money, or something. Or maybe someone was putting pressure on him.”
“You’re not sure what?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t discuss business with me. And if he didn’t want me to answer the phone, I guess he didn’t want me to know his business.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank God I didn’t have a baby.”
“What?”
The room was dark, and she hoped he couldn’t see her flush. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t mean to.” She heaved in a breath and let it out. “At first I wanted children. Then I figured out that Warren was too wound up with having me take care of his every need to share me with anyone else.”
oOo
Steve winced, wondering how he would feel if he were forced into a bunch of revelations he’d rather not share. Well, he’d been forced into one, and it seemed to have worked out okay.
Leah looked down at the remaining food. “I don’t think I can eat any more.”
“Okay.” He waited a moment before asking. “Is there any chance he would think you’d come here?”
“I hope not.”
“I’d take you to a motel, but we’d need two rooms, and I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“Okay.”
“You’ve been sleeping on a mattress on the floor?”
“Yes. I don’t mind.”
He hesitated again, thinking he could drag another mattress in here. Then he decided it was better to avoid temptation and stay down the hall. If someone came to the house, he’d only be a few yards from her.
He stood up, and after sitting on the floor for so long, his bad leg threatened to crumple.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing him falter.
“I was shot—during a drug bust gone bad.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t get in the way much,” he answered, thinking he had less of a problem than his boss, Frank Decorah, who had come home from Vietnam with half a leg missing.
He made a stop in the bathroom, then went into the smaller bedroom—where he’d slept when he was a kid, glad that all trace of his living there had been erased. He didn’t want to bring up any more memories. Except there were some he couldn’t banish. As he lay down on the mattress, still fully dressed, he was thinking that this was where he had made love with Leah when his mom had been at work.
It was strange how they’d gotten together. He’d been aware of her in some of the classes he took—and he knew she was aware of him. Because he’d considered her way out of his league socially, he hadn’t tried to get anything going with her until one afternoon when school was out for the summer. He’d been cruising around town on his motorcycle when he’d seen her outside the local ice cream shop—one of those places where you ordered at a window and ate at a picnic table out front. She was walking toward the window, and one of the town losers, a guy with greasy hair and a week’s worth of beard stubble, stepped into her path. When she tried to move around him, he kept up the sideways dance, a smirk on his face.
Steve cut his engine, pushed down his kickstand, and walked over.
“Leave the lady alone.”
The jerk turned to face him, the smirk replaced by anger. “You gonna make me?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
When Steve took a step closer, the other guy ended up backing away—and finally left. After making sure he wasn’t in danger of a sneak attack, Steve turned to Leah. “You want to get out of here?”
He’d had no expectation that she’d agree, but after a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Yes.”
He inclined his head toward the bike.
She was game to climb in back of him and circle his waist with her arms. He took her to a local park, where they watched ducks gliding across the water as they got to know each other a little better.
She flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “Thank you for getting that guy off my back.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do,” he allowed.
“Are you enjoying your summer?”
“When I’m not working at Smith’s Hardware.”
“Are you earning money for college?”
“We’ll see,” he answered, thinking that would be a stretch. Maybe he could take a few courses at the community college, but would that make any difference in his life?
He took her to a burger joint for dinner, then back to the park for a more up close and personal encounter. When she agreed to see him again, he was riding a high that would last the rest of the summer.
They started going to his house when Mom was at work, and it was a slow but steady process to get her to go all the way with him—starting with more and more intimate make-out sessions in the privacy of his bedroom. Really, they were both learning about sex. But he wasn’t shy about experimenting and discovering what gave her pleasure. And perhaps because he was so open about wanting to fulfil her needs, she went along, doing the same for him.
He grew hard as he remembered the first time he’d made her come, his finger stroking into her hot, wet folds as she rocked her hips to increase the friction. After that, she’d asked how to do the same for him. He’d wrapped her hand around his cock, showing her how to pump up and down to bring him off. They’d pleasured each other like that for a few weeks, until she’d let him take her virginity. His mind leaped from the past to the present. From the way she’d responded to his kiss earlier this evening, he was pretty sure that she’d let him do what he wanted now. Did it really make a difference that this was eight years later, and she was a married woman?
“Cut it out,” he muttered to himself. Making himself hot with thoughts about Leah in the next room wasn’t doing him any good, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to bring himself off with her practically lying next to him. He closed his eyes, willing himself to catch some sleep so he’d be ready to get her out of here in the morning. And then what? He still wasn’t sure.
He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew, every cell in his body was on alert. He’d heard a scream from down the hall—from the room where Leah was sleeping.
Still angry with himself for not coming armed, he leaped out of bed and pounded down the hall. The door to her room was open, and he rushed in without stopping to see if he might be barreling into a trap.
Steve saw Leah lying on the mattress. Like him, she was wearing the clothes she’d had on earlier. Her head was whipping back and forth on a pillow. She was sleeping, and he was sure that she was caught in a nightmare.
A muffled moan escaped her lips as he moved closer, then came down beside her on the mattress, calling her name.
When she didn’t respond, he laid a hand on her shoulder trying to gently wake her.
“Leah, it’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s Steve. You’re having a nightmare.”
But the effort to calm her was wasted. Her eyes were still closed when she lashed out an arm and flailed at him, slapping him across the face.
He reared back, and she came after him, still swinging.
His only option to protect himself without hurting her was to fold her close, clamping her arms to her side as he held her down.
“Leah, it’s Steve,” he repeated, trying to get through to her. “You’re with me. You’re safe.”
For long moments she kept fighting him, kicking him, making his bad leg throb. Then she finally went still.
“Steve?”
“Yeah.” He rolled to his side so that his weight was no longer on top of her.
“Oh God, did I hurt you?” she asked, the question coming out on a sob.
“No. I’m fine,” he answered, stifling the impulse to make sure he hadn’t cut his mouth when she hit his teeth.
“I’m sorry.”
“No problem.”
He could feel her struggling for control and heard the tears in her voice as she continued.
“I was back at home. He was coming at me again, but I ducked around him. I was running. Down a long hall. I was trying to get to the door, but the hall was endless. The farther I ran, the farther I had to go. I was trapped.
He reached to soothe his hand across her shoulders, feeling the knots of tension.
“It’s okay. He can’t get you here.”
“I wish I knew that for sure.”
He stayed where he was, cradling her in his arms. She rolled to her side, burying her face against his chest.
“I should let you get back to sleep,” he whispered.
She grasped his arms, her fingers digging painfully into his flesh. “I don’t want to be alone.”
There was only one answer he could give. “Okay.”
He eased to his back, and she came with him, reversing their original positions.
“You remember when we used to come here?” she asked in a low voice.
“You were thinking about that?”
“Yes. Before I went to sleep. Were you?”
He wanted to lie. Instead, he said, “Yes.”
“You taught me about making love.”
“This is going in the wrong direction.” When he tried to shift away, her hand tightened on his arm.
“Is it?”
She moved up so that she could press her lips over his, and he was instantly transported back in time.
As her mouth stroked persuasively against his, he opened for her, enjoying the hot invasion of her tongue and the pressure of her breasts against his chest when she molded herself to him.
He knew he should disentangle himself before things got out of control, but he couldn’t do it. Then she shifted fully on top of him, positioning his erection in the cleft between her upper thighs, making heat shoot through him.
The rocking of her hips against him was like striking a match against tinder. His cock swelled painfully inside his jeans. And when she raised up so that he could reach her breasts, he accepted the invitation, cupping the soft mounds in his hands as he glided his thumbs across the hardened tips.
“Do what you used to do,” she whispered against his mouth. “Squeeze my nipples between your thumbs and fingers. Lord, that used to feel so good.”
He heard desperation in her voice and felt his own desperation rising.
“Leah, we can’t,” he managed to say as he dropped his hands to his sides.
“Why not?” she asked, emphasizing the question by torturing him some more with her lower body.
“You’re married to someone else.”
She raised her head, staring down at him. “It hasn’t been a real marriage for a long time.”
“It’s a legal marriage,” he said, still struggling with the meaning of right and wrong. Gently he lifted her off of himself, and they both lay on the mattress, dragging in air.
“You’re too much of a gentleman,” she whispered.
“And you’re trying to forget the nightmare.”
“I’m trying to forget a lot of things.”
He reached for her hand and clasped her fingers with his. “We’ll get you out of this.”
“Maybe you can’t. Maybe nobody can,” she answered, her tone bleak.
Words of reassurance leaped to his lips, but he stopped himself from making promises he might not be able to keep.
“Stay here,” she murmured.
He wanted to agree immediately. Instead he asked, “Is that a good idea?”
“I’ll behave myself.”
“Okay,” he answered in the darkness.
“I married the wrong guy,” she whispered.
The simple statement tingled against his nerve endings. “Don’t say that.”
“Teenagers have stupid values.”
“Yeah. And I didn’t look like marriage material.”
“Are you now?” she asked, and he wished she wasn’t being so direct.
“I don’t know.” He gave the only answer he should. He’d wondered for years what would have happened if she’d come back that fall. By then he’d gotten into a program at the local community college for disadvantaged youths who wanted to study criminal justice. If you did well, you could finish at the University of Maryland. He wanted one of those slots, and he was loving the challenge of getting good grades.
Now he said, “Go to sleep, and we’ll figure things out in the morning.”
“If I can.”
He had the same thought. Sexual need still zinged through him, and he knew what would make him relaxed enough to sleep. Instead he tried to focus on his breathing.
oOo
A sound from outside woke him early in the morning. When he got up to investigate, Leah stirred beside him.
“What?”
“I hear someone out there.”
He saw her whole body go rigid. “It’s Warren.”
“We don’t know that. Stay out of sight.” He walked toward the front of the house. Before he got to the living room, someone pounded on the door and shouted, “Police. Open up.”
Steve ran his fingers through his hair, then walked to the front door and looked out. Two uniformed state troopers stood on the front porch. They were both young guys, and Steve didn’t recognize either one of them. They wore brass nametags on their uniform shirts. One said Winston and the other said Campbell.
When they saw him through the window, the one named Campbell shouted, “Open up.”
He put the chain on the door and opened it the few inches that the security device would allow.
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“We’re looking for Leah Pendelton.”
“Why?”
“She’s wanted for robbing and assaulting her husband.”