HAYDEN (Dragon Security Book 5) (11 page)

The boy didn’t even realize what was happening at first. The beep of the door should have alerted him. It alerted his father. He had already pulled mother behind him by the time the two men came around the corner.

“What are you doing in here?”

The men paused, clearly surprised to find them there. The boy recognized one of them. He was the creepy man who’d brought their bags to their room the day before.

“We came to check out what you left in the safe. It’s a pity you didn’t leave when you said you would.”

“Get out!”

The man just laughed. “We were hoping to find the nanny up here. Maybe the boy.” He gestured to his companion. “Willard here likes little boys. But I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see your missus still here. And all dressed up for me, too.”

The boy saw the panic on his mother’s face and on his father’s, too. He saw his father turn and whisper something to his mother that didn’t make her laugh. That made her whisper “no” in a voice that frightened the boy. Then he saw his father spin on his heel, but he hadn’t seen the man come up behind him. The bad man. And he had a gun.

The bad man hit the boy’s father over the head with the butt of the gun. The father fell hard to the floor; his eyes closed and blood seeped from his hair onto his forehead. His mother screamed as the bad man grabbed her arms and slammed her down onto the couch right in front of the boy. She saw him, her eyes widening in fear. She nodded subtly, gesturing with her head toward the cupboard behind him that he’d played earlier. He’d hidden inside it during a riotous game of hide-and-seek the day before. His father had taken a long time to find him there. The boy thought it was hilarious that he’d fooled his father so easily.

He slipped in there then, while the bad man ripped at his mother’s clothes, ruining her pretty new dress. The boy didn’t understand what was happening or the noises he was hearing, but he hid with his head buried against his knees.

He heard the bad man asking about him. And he heard the lie leave his mother’s lips. She told him it was important to always tell the truth, so he didn’t understand. But he was afraid to call her out on it—to come out of the cupboard and prove her a liar.

There were lots of noises that night. He sat there for a long time, just listening. He didn’t know what to do. He knew this was bad, but his mother told him to hide. So he hid until it was quiet for a very long time. When he finally came out of the cupboard and he crawled around the couch to where his mother lay, he pulled her dress up over her bare breasts, aware that it wasn’t proper for her to be like that. Then he lay his head against her chest, waiting for the sound of her heartbeat to soothe the fear in his chest. But it didn’t because it wasn’t there.

“The nanny came back in the early morning hours, using her key to let herself in. She screamed when she saw me, and I didn’t understand. Then there were police everywhere and people wanted to take my parents away and ask me questions. I was confused. I didn’t understand why my mother…”

He choked on the words. I got up and grabbed his hands and pulled him back to the couch. The dying embers of the fire barely offered enough light for me to see his face, and maybe that was better. Perhaps it was better not to see the darkness that still haunted him.

“I told them who I saw in the hotel suite that night. I picked them out of several line ups. But when it came time to put on a suit and testify against them in court, I couldn’t separate what I knew to be true and the things I’d heard from my grandparents, from the nanny, or from the cops. Even from the prosecutor himself. So my testimony was confusing and inaccurate.”

“You were six.”

“I was eight when they finally went to trial.”

“But you were six when it happened. They never should have put you on the stand.”

I was outraged at the thought, burning with anger that anyone would do such a thing. I took his hand, pulled it into my lap and held it tight, comforting not the man I knew, but the child who still lived inside of him and was still hurting from this horrifying thing that had happened to him.

“There was very little evidence. They’d both been wearing gloves and they both shaved their entire bodies. They wore clothes that were generic—available almost anywhere.” He bit his lip as he shook his head. “They were brilliant, really. If I were a criminal, that’s what I would do. I would use their tactics as a rule book.”

“But they went to jail.”

“Manslaughter. They were sentenced to fifteen to twenty years. It’s been almost eighteen.”

“They’re letting them out?”

“Yes. And one of them, the bellman, swore to come after me when they did. That’s why the DOC is trying to contact me. They want to offer me protection.”

I snickered at the thought. “Do they know what you do for a living? They want to protect the protector?”

He shrugged as I climbed into his lap and touched his face. “Don’t worry, Hayden. I got your back.”

“Oh, do you?” He grinned as he looked up at me. “Would you take a bullet for me?”

“Any day.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Shouldn’t I be pledging to take a bullet for you?”

I frowned, trying to look offended. “Don’t you know we’ve come out the other side of the women’s movement? I have your back, you have mine. Equality.”

“Okay,” he said, sliding his hand under my tee. “Is that equality in everything?”

“Of course.”

“Then if I wanted you to do a little something for me that I’ve done for you on more than one occasion, this equality thing would require you to do it?”

“I suppose so,” I said, my lower belly starting to tighten at the thought.

“Good,” he said, lifting me off his lap. “There is a huge stack of dishes in the sink that really need a good scrubbing.”

I spun around and slapped at his shoulder, but I was off balance and fell into a giggling heap in his lap. He pushed me back against the couch cushions, running his fingers over my ribs, tickling me until I couldn’t catch my breath. He suddenly sobered as he held me trapped under his body.

“It really doesn’t change the way you look at me, does it?”

“Of course not. You can’t control what someone else did.”

“I could have stopped them. I could have called the police.”

“You were six, Hayden. You didn’t even realize what was happening.”

“But I hid. I heard my mother being raped, and all I did was hide.”

“Because she told you to. If you hadn’t, you would probably be dead, too.”

He was quiet for a minute, his eyes moving slowly over my face. “It used to be the only thing I thought about. All day I would relive it, remembering everything I heard and saw. But then it began to fade. I grew up, became a teenager with raging hormones, and found other things to concentrate on. But it would still be there, in the back of my mind, waiting until I closed my eyes at night. Always there. Always.” I brushed a piece of hair out of my face. “Until you. Until the first time I saw you, and suddenly my thoughts were full of you, and it was pushed onto a back burner only coming back on those really bad nights when nothing else could be there. You made it better for me just by looking at me when you spoke, just by smiling at me the way you do when I walk into the office, like I’m the one you’ve been waiting for.”

“You are.”

He smiled softly. And this time it did reach his eyes.

“You make me a better person. You make me feel like the man I should have been back then, and the man I want to be now. You make me believe that there was a reason why I lived that night.”

He reached between our bodies, grabbed my thighs and positioned me perfectly underneath him, my legs open wide and waiting for whatever he wanted.

“You make me wish I hadn’t waited so long to tell you how I feel about you.”

I watched his face as I ran my hands down the length of his chest and felt his stomach quiver as I reached for his belt. I watched as I tugged it open and reached inside for that long, thick cock.

“I want you,” I said, clear and steady, saying it aloud with the confidence of a woman who’d been asking for what she wanted all her life. “I want you inside of me, Hayden.”

“I’ve always wanted you,” he whispered as he moved close, scraping his lips across my jaw. “I love you.”

He thrust against me in that moment, filling me in that one movement. I cried out, wrapping my legs around him to hold him still and wrapping my arms around him because I needed to be close to him. I closed my eyes, telling myself this was real even as my heart refused to believe it. I never thought I would hear those words fall from the lips of a man I wanted—I loved. But there they were, filling my heart to the brim and filling me with hope and love and a million things I never imagined I would ever feel. Not like this, anyway.

I didn’t want him to love me. I didn’t want him to waste his time on me. But I was too selfish to let him go.

Megan

Dante tapped on the door and stuck his head inside.

“Where’s Sam? These girls are sort of lost without her here.”

“I know.” I waved my hand at him. “They’ll just have to learn to deal.”

“Where is she? Is something wrong?”

I looked up, a little annoyed that he was pulling me away from the report I’d been just a few lines from finishing.

“She’s in Colorado with Hayden.”

“Hayden?” Dante’s eyebrows rose. “Are they…?”

I nodded, turning back to the report. “Their timing is the worst, but, yeah. I guess they hooked up that night they did the mortgage thing.”

“How do you feel about that?”

I finished the report, pushed send, and then turned back to him. He was watching me, this look in his eyes that reminded me of Luke. I hated that he reminded me of Luke. I hated that everything lately seemed to remind me of Luke.

I sat back and dragged my fingers through my hair, trying to clear my mind.

It didn’t work.

“I’m happy for Sam. She’s never really had a serious boyfriend. And she’s had such a crush on Hayden since the first time he walked through these doors. I just…”

I stopped, catching myself before I could say more than I wanted to.

There was curiosity in Dante’s eyes. And concern. He was a complicated man and ours was a complicated relationship. As much as I wanted it to remain simple, it was anything but. I liked him, I did. I just…why couldn’t I forget Luke? The man left me. He walked away on our wedding day. After years of promises and commitment,
he
walked away. Why was I having so much trouble moving on?

Dante came over and maneuvered my chair around so that I was sitting between his legs. His expression was deadly serious, the kind of expression a man wore when he knew his woman’s thoughts were not completely on him.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I was hoping we’d spend Christmas together.”

He smelled like fresh cut wood, and the heat of his body reminded me of all the nights we’d spent curled up in each other’s arms. A part of me so wanted to fold myself into him and to let him hold me and touch me in that way that he had that sent so much pleasure rushing through my body. I hadn’t thought I would ever again feel that kind of pleasure after Luke left me, but Dante proved that it was still possible. I was grateful for that.

“My family wanted me at the house. It’s a tradition.”

“You don’t want to introduce me?”

I studied his face for a long moment, wondering if he honestly believed that I would.

“This thing between us, it’s not that kind of relationship.”

“I know.” He touched my face lightly. “Will it ever be?”

He spoke so quietly; I might not have been meant to hear him. Then he didn’t let me answer. He leaned forward and kissed me, a long, passionate kiss that made my toes curl and my bones melt. I did fold into him then, wishing that there had never been a Luke. If there had never been a Luke, then Dante would be so much more to me than a placeholder—someone to fill a void in my life. In my bed. I hated that I was using him, but he seemed okay with it, in the beginning, anyway.

I thought maybe I was doing him a disservice, that I was leading him down a path of heartache too much like my own. It wasn’t right. I should let him go to find happiness somewhere else. But then his hands slid over my thighs, tugging at my skirt until his fingers could slip underneath. He knew just how to touch me, just where to touch me. And when he touched me, my heart pounded with anticipation.

“I want you,” he whispered against my ear. And when he did that, I could almost make myself believe it could all work out and there could be a future without Luke.

I leaned into him and let him touch me a moment longer. But then the sounds of a normal working day seeped in through the walls and I was reminded of where I was and who I was, and that was more powerful than a cold shower.

I pushed back, rolling my chair around to face the computer.

“I have work,” I said.

“What about later? Would you mind if I stopped by your place tonight?”

I studied his face for a long moment—the nose that was too narrow and the jaw that was too wide. I bit my lip.

“After nine. I’ve got all this work to catch up on.”

He smiled. “I’ll see you at nine, then.”

He kissed me gently before he walked away.

I watched him go, trying not to enjoy the sight of his ass moving in those tight jeans. But it was so hard not to.

I took a deep breath and turned back to the computer. There was an email from Sam that was dated just before Christmas. I opened it and found another page of unscrambled notes from the file Emily Greene had been killed for. I read through it, trying to make sense out of it. Emily was investigating a terrorist cell based out of France, and the file was filled with her results. This page looked like it was a copy of information she’d taken from some CIA records. There were names I recognized—names of people she’d traced and determined were involved in the terrorist cell in some way. I had Hayden working on those names—when he was working—but he wasn’t coming up with anything concrete, nothing we could use.

I was beginning to think that I would never find out what Peter was investigating, and that I’d never be able to prove that he was murdered. Every time we came across information, it was either corrupted or proved to be a dead end.

I knew in my heart that Peter didn’t just drive into that barrier because he was distracted. I knew that he was forced off the road. And one of these days I was going to prove it.