Brutally Beautiful (23 page)

Standing before him was his princess in blue jeans. Gen, her hair loose, swirling around her in the breeze from the sea, hands stuck in her pockets, a black jacket over a white T-shirt.

“I don’t intend to,” he said. He suppressed his wild surge of joy with difficulty. “How did you find me?”

“A chance remark you made to Odell the night we met. Jim got on the computer. It took a day.”

“Fuck. Your friends get you every time.” The warmth seeping through him surprised him. He’d never relied on friends, but it seemed he had some true ones now.

She smiled, the lines next to her eyes tense. “I asked them not to come. I wanted to find you before you ran again. Talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you know?” Her voice softened, became more intimate. “Because I love you, Nick. If you run, I’m coming with you. You can fool the authorities, but you can’t fool a terrier like Jim. Just as well he’s on our side.”

“You’re not coming.” She couldn’t go where he might have to. He was thinking of reaching out to his Chinese friends. With opportunities opening up on the mainland, he could find a berth there for a few years. He’d resigned himself to spending the rest of his life on the run, not a prospect he looked forward to when he’d left everything he cared for behind.

“Know how we found you?”

“You broke into the records of every hotel in Seattle?”

She shook her head. “There are fewer bookstores. It was easier to check their records for anyone buying books on Tennyson, Mallory, and the other poets who wrote about King Arthur.”

Oh, shit and fuck. Of course they did. “But my address?”

“We got that from the owner of the store where you bought the books. You should have gone to the bigger places. They’re not as nosey.”

“So you’ve been to my apartment?” He’d found a short-term holiday rental. He didn’t like hotels, with people coming and going at all hours. He liked to know who was invading his space.

“I called around there. Your landlady said you took a walk down here every evening.”

If he hadn’t been so on edge, he would have taken more care. He’d passed through what he dimly recognized as the stages of grief. Not for Bennick, but for her. Locked himself away, deliberately avoided the Internet and even the news programs. His TV watching consisted of cop shows and reruns of old comedy classics, as well as the Liverpool matches he could get on the regular sports channels. He didn’t want to know, hadn’t wanted to find out. He’d made Gen safe, and that was all he really cared about. He knew that because Lawrence had sent him a message on the secure phone before Nick junked it, too scared to keep it in case he was tempted to use it. The text read,
Gen okay.

“How’s the scandal doing?”

“Covered up, mostly,” she said, giving a shrug. “The immigrants they found were given green cards if at all possible and work visas if not. The bosses wanted the whole thing sorted out fast.” She huffed a laugh. “They gave me his job. I made sure Bennick’s mess was sorted out before I cleaned out my desk.”

“You resigned? Why?”

She made a move toward him, but he backed up. “Because there was no point anymore. They would have gotten rid of me. And the job didn’t give me what I wanted. You taught me to be brave, to walk away if I wasn’t getting what I needed, so I did.”

“Did you sell the apartment?” Suddenly he was thirsty for information, as if he’d come around after being in a coma, insensible. His brain came to life. She was here, he loved her, but she had to go back. He had to persuade her. He wasn’t safe.

“No, it’s waiting for us to come home.”

“I wanted you to have the money. I’d have sent you some in a few months, when it was safe.” He’d planned to go to Switzerland and empty one of his safe-deposit boxes personally for her. Make sure they couldn’t link the cash back, maybe contact Lawrence and get him to give it to her as a matured investment. Lawrence was an ethical investor and doing very nicely. A few million more wouldn’t matter. “I still will. Nothing’s changed, Gen.”

“Yes, it has. They ruled Bennick’s death a suicide. Didn’t investigate too thoroughly, I guess. He had a shaky aim, shot into the ceiling, then into his stomach.”

They gazed at each other. She hadn’t asked, but he’d tell her anyway. “I killed him.”

She shrugged. “Duh. I worked that out. Bennick wasn’t the type to kill himself, and you wouldn’t have left if you didn’t have anything to do with it.” She didn’t look away, her gorgeous eyes melting his senses. She had to stop this torture soon. “I don’t care. He deserved to die, the misery he brought to all those people. Hundreds. He sold green cards outright and kept a few people on file to do him favors. He’s killed.”

“In the eyes of the law, I’m a murderer.”

“In the eyes of the law, you weren’t there. The department was desperate to cover up the scandal, leaned on the cops a bit. Not that they’d need much leaning. The last thing the police need is another unsolved murder. Suicide wraps it up nice and neat. The bosses at Homeland Security have a reputation to build, and they don’t want that scandal hanging over them.”

Didn’t she understand what a fucking cunt he was? “Whatever. I’m a wanted man, if not for that, then for other stuff.” He stepped forward and braced himself for contact. When he placed his hands on her shoulders, they both flinched. He’d never wanted anything more than to drag her close and hold her tight, never let go. So he didn’t, locking his elbows to contain the urge. “Gen, you can’t. I can’t. One day they’ll look in the records and find out who I am. It was a pipe dream. I kidded myself, kept skimming by on a wing and a prayer. I kept squeaky clean.” He grinned. “Except for Bared. My one indulgence.”

“You needed something.” Now she spoke softly, as if they were in bed together, embracing and talking after a hot bout of lovemaking. Because he had no doubt now that they were making love that last week.

Couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t go back, and he wouldn’t let her come with him, because he had no choice now—he had to return to the old life. China, Liverpool, London; it would mean reverting to the sleaze, to the shady deals, the law dodging. It didn’t appeal anymore. It never had. He’d just done what he needed to do to put bread on the table and then to keep one step ahead.

She understood him so well, this girl from a small Northwest town, with rock-solid values that she was willing to breach for him. “You’re no gangster’s moll.”

The reference made her smile. “No, I’m not, but you’re no gangster. Not anymore. And I’m no maiden waiting for my dragon to rescue me. I’ll fight by your side, Nick.”

“I made my bed early. Time to return to the only thing I know.” To the girls, the drugs, the filth, watching humanity at its very worst. Catering to it. “Listen. My prints and my DNA are on file. So is my picture. There have to be whole dossiers on me.”

Still smiling, she shook her head. “There are dossiers on Mick O’Donnell. Not on Nick Taylor.” She reached out, held on to his waist.

Nick closed his eyes at the sensation of her touching him. Dying of hunger for her, as he would for the rest of his life.

“I’m Mick O’Donnell.”

“No, you’re not. You’re Mick O’Donnell’s twin brother. Identical twin brother.”

His eyes snapped open. Above them the harbor lights came on in response to the fading daylight, giving her face sudden contrast. He saw the desperation in her eyes. “I don’t have a twin brother.”

“You do now. Your mother couldn’t look after both of you, so she gave one of the twins away. Nick Taylor was adopted by a middle-class family in London. After they died, they left their son, Nick, a teacher at the time, enough money to invest in a few stocks, and he got lucky, made his fortune. He decided to follow his life’s dream and go and study poetry at DUNY.”

“Pretty, but it won’t work.”

He tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him, firming her grip on him, trying to draw him closer. He couldn’t resist her anymore. He closed his arms around her. Just this once he’d allow himself to hold her.

His mind stuttered to a halt, then started up again as he processed what she’d just told him. Shit. Was it really possible? “Explain.”

“Jim did it right after Bennick died. We weren’t sure what the investigation would show up, so he went to work. Nice that so many things are electronic these days. We found the right couple and their son. There is a Nick Taylor in that position, a teacher in Bedfordshire, but we muddled shit up, so the records point to another Nick Taylor. Lots of certificates. When he went to university, he went to one of the big ones, and there were at least ten Nick Taylors that year. Universities are easy to break into, especially at a lower level, so we did, and we added an extra Nick Taylor to the lecture records. We kind of split you off from Mick and created a life for you.”

“How is this possible?”

“I told you, electronic records. There are so many, so varied, that checking back isn’t simple anymore, even if you know what you’re doing.” She chuckled against his chest. “I learned a lot from Jim. So Mick O’Donnell died after being stabbed and set on fire in London, and Nick Taylor is someone else entirely. Nick doesn’t know about Mick, doesn’t even know he has a twin.”

“And twins share the same DNA.” Then something occurred that brought him right down. “But they don’t share the same fingerprints.”

She snorted. “If you don’t get into trouble, they won’t find that out, will they? And twins can have very similar fingerprints. We’ve created enough reasonable doubt to give you a life, Nick. All you have to do is take it. I dare you.”

It would work, fuck, it would really work. Reasonable doubt. Picture ID, well, they were identical twins, so maybe Mick’s records would come up from time to time. He might have to explain himself, but he could afford a great lawyer. Relief surged through him like a tidal wave, cleansing where it touched.

For answer, he dragged her closer and took the kiss he’d been dying for since he first set eyes on her. He couldn’t stop kissing her, and when he’d finally slaked his hunger on her mouth, he kissed her eyes, her nose, her chin, bent to nuzzle her throat and inhale the glorious scent of woman—his woman—until she broke away, breathless and laughing. “Let’s go to your place.”

He held up his hand and miracle of miracles, a cab stopped at the curb. After grabbing the overnight bag by her side, he threw it into the front seat before he bundled her inside. He rapped out his address, half a mile away, a distance impossibly long to cover, and went back to kissing her. Like an addict deprived of his fix, he couldn’t get enough.

When they stopped, he paused long enough to toss the driver a bill and collect her bag, then pulled her inside and to the elevators.

For once, he cursed his choice of apartment on the fifth floor, because the time it took to get there was far, far too long. By now he had her breathing heavily, responding to his caresses with a fervor to equal his. She grasped him as if afraid he might get away, but he wasn’t going anywhere now.

He had a studio apartment with a balcony overlooking the sound, but he felt no inclination to show her anything but the bed. Feverishly, he attacked her clothes while she dragged his T-shirt up and off his body.

They were naked. He stopped completely and stared at her, drinking in her sweet curves, so well remembered, so deeply missed. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.” A tease, the best he could do.

“Then I’ll have to try to persuade you.” Her voice had roughened, and he pulled her close again, gasping when her warm body contacted his, her nipples hard beads against his chest.

“It won’t take much.”

He backed her against the bed until she fell on it, laughing when he followed her. His cock was so hard it hurt, the lubrication seeping from the eye at the top a small respite to the ache.

Then he groaned. “No condom.”

She lifted her hand, cupping his cheek in a tender gesture. “You think that’s going to stop us?”

“You can’t.” He covered her hand with his own, using his other arm to support his body. His chest heaved with the effort of not falling on her and taking her with all the finesse of a cat in heat. “You know what I am, what I’ve been.”

“Do you have a disease?”

He appreciated the straightforward question. “No, I don’t. I was always careful and I’ve had health checks. But, baby, it’s not just that.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I have anything?”

He shook his head, his stubble rasping her palm. She always liked that, and he saw her eyes darken a bit more. “Frankly, I don’t care. I’ll take everything you have, and we’ll share what happens together.”

Her gentle laughed rocked him to his core. “What am I going to do with you? But I’m not on the pill.”

Swallowing, he took the responsibility, as he always had. Part of his nature, rather than something he was forced into, he finally realized. “I’ll take that too.”

She smiled. “Yes, you will.”

He gave in, let the last barrier fall. “Yes, I will.” With a groan, he urged his cock between her thighs, finding her pussy, as always, wet and waiting for him. Just him. He eased into her, holding his breath when her lush depths embraced him. Accepted him. Nobody had taken everything he was and just…accepted it before. Women had fucked him because of his notoriety, or later because they thought he was sensitive and kind, but nobody knew him like Gen. Nobody ever would, because he didn’t intend to look. He had all he wanted here in his arms. Lying beneath him, arching her body in her eagerness to take him.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever made love to.”

She kept the smile, as it was reflected in her eyes, in the flush of arousal adorning her sweet body. “Me too,” she gasped as he plunged deep.

He watched her, noting her every reaction as he made love to her, adjusted his position to bring her the greatest pleasure.

She kept her eyes open, as she must know he preferred, curved herself into him, said the words he needed. “I love you. Nobody but you, Nick. Ever.”

Watching, caressing, murmuring words of love and adoration, they brought each other to the final culmination. For the first time in his life when he came, he flooded her with his essence.