Last Kiss (17 page)

Reeve leaned over me, pressing his chest to my back as he massaged me. “He has a reputation for a reason, and what people say about him is kind. He’s an expert at pain and suffering. And, when he’s done with a person, he doesn’t bother with a conversation. He just kills them.”

“I…” I choked on a sob. “I didn’t…”
I didn’t realize he’d come after me.
I couldn’t speak, too distracted, too worked up.

Reeve rubbed his nose against my cheek. “He could have hurt you, Emily,” he said, his voice raw and threadbare. “In order to hurt me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that could keep away the emotion that I was sure would swallow me up when my climax hit me. Soon. It was so close.

Reeve sensed it too. “All I’d have to do is brush your clit and you’d come, wouldn’t you?”

I nodded.

Abruptly, he stood, releasing me and removing his hand from my cunt at the same time.

I blinked, confused and desperately wound up. Propping myself up on the desk, I twisted to look at him. “Why did you stop? I was almost there.”

He wiped his hand on his pants. “I’m not going to let you come. I’m mad at you.”

The rage I’d somehow forgotten while he’d had his fingers inside me returned with a vengeance. “You are so manipulative.” I pulled up my panties. “And mean. I hate you and I never want you to touch me again.”

I started to storm past him, but he grabbed my upper arm and pulled me to him. “I will allow you your space while you work through whatever conflict you imagine exists between us, Emily, but I will not tolerate being lied to.”

“I’m not lying. I really do hate you.” And I did. As much as I loved him, I hated him.

He didn’t even flinch. “I’m sure you do. But you most certainly want me to touch you.”

I hated him even more for that – for knowing me that well.

No longer able to look at him, I wrenched my arm away and stomped out to the car. I got in and pressed my face against the window and kept it there until we’d driven into the garage by the main house.

When we’d parked, I unbuckled my belt, and without looking at him, I said, “I’m leaving with Joe tomorrow. Don’t tell me to stay. Neither of us wants to find out if I’m able to ignore you.” I threw open the car door and hurried into the house.

I’d meant to head straight to my room, but Brent and Joe met me at the door, each of them somber and serious.

Panic rose inside me. “What is it?”

“You haven’t heard?” Joe asked.

“I was with you all night. What could I possibly have heard?”

Joe started to answer, then stopped as Reeve came in behind me.

I’d wanted to be away from him by the time he got inside, but now I didn’t care. The air was tense and charged and all I could think about was Amber, sure that something terrible had happened to her and I had to know now, before the worrying ate me up. “Will someone please fucking tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s Chris Blakely,” Joe said without any further hesitation. “He’s dead.”

I didn’t sleep well.

The few times I started to doze, I dreamt. Vague nightmares where images of Chris faded into images of Reeve then Michelis then Joe until all of them morphed into one man who was one minute trying to make me come, and the next, trying to kill me.

It was still dark outside when I gave up on sleep. I tossed the covers aside and got out of bed to pack my suitcase instead.

Joe had heard the news about Chris on the radio as he drove back to the ranch from The Four Seasons. Although the police weren’t releasing any information yet, he’d called a friend on the Los Angeles force and learned the cause of death appeared to be an overdose. Chris had been shooting a guest role on a nighttime soap and was found dead in his dressing room earlier in the evening.

I’d had to lean against the wall when he’d told me, the edges of my vision having gone black and fuzzy. Reeve had pulled me into his arms, and I’d clutched onto him and cried as Joe and Brent explained what they knew, which wasn’t much.

“It will be nearly impossible to prove that the drugs weren’t self-administered,” Joe had said. “If they weren’t.”

Brent piped in next. “Even if they weren’t, we don’t know that Michelis had anything to do with it.”

“We know,” Reeve had said.

I’d let him hold me for a few minutes longer before I’d gotten over enough of the shock to remember that I didn’t want to have anything to do with Reeve. Then I’d pushed him away and excused myself, running to my room, where I’d locked my door and thrown myself on the bed and cried until I was dry.

Chris’s death had a numbing effect on me. It was as though I’d found the eye of the storm, the cyclone of emotions that had hit me still present and around me – but calm for the moment. It felt like I was moving through slow motion. My thoughts took effort. All I could concentrate on was one step at a time – first, pack my bags.

After an hour, and a break to shower and dress, I zipped up my suitcase and looked at the clock. It was half past six, but the ranch woke early and I could already hear activity below me. Joe and I hadn’t discussed what time we were leaving. Hoping it would be sooner rather than later, I carried my things downstairs and left them in the hall while I set out to find him.

Joe’s room was on the main floor and, to get to it, I had to cross through the den. Usually this part of the house was empty, but, despite the hour, I heard voices as I rounded the corner. Reeve’s voice, specifically. I didn’t want to see him, so I started to turn, but then I heard Joe.

“Is the house part of the resort?” he was asking.

“No, it’s on the opposite side of the island,” Reeve answered. “A five-mile walk along the shore. There’s also a wall around the perimeter of the resort to discourage guests from wandering.”

The conversation wasn’t necessarily friendly, but it was more than I thought Reeve would share with Joe after the night before. I slipped into the back of the room quietly and discovered Amber and Brent were there as well. Amber was still dressed in pajamas, curled up on the couch with her feet underneath her. Joe sat away from her on the opposite end. Reeve was sitting on the coffee table directing his talk to both of them.

Brent stood off to the side, seemingly an observer like I was. He nodded when he saw me, drawing Amber to peer back at me. Reeve followed her line of vision and his gaze slammed into mine. An electric jolt ran through my body, like a cable trying to jump-start a car. I was numb, I was void, but Reeve could get me running. If I let him.

I refused to let him.

Unable to look at him for long, I pinned my focus on Amber. “What’s going on?”

She leaned her arm on the back of the sofa. “We’re going to Reeve’s island for a while. It’s safer there and it will give his men time to work things out with Micha.”

So they were going somewhere too. Good time for me to leave, then.

Though, it didn’t
feel
good. It felt far from.

I forced a small smile. “I think that’s smart. I’m really worried about you after…”
After the dog, after meeting Vilanakis, after Chris Blakely
. I couldn’t say Chris’s name without spiraling into anxious, guilt-ridden grief. “Well, yesterday.”

She reached up and gave my hand a squeeze. “I heard about your friend. I’m so sorry, Em. I don’t know what to say.”

When I’d thought Amber had died, I’d felt deep, gut-wrenching sorrow. I hadn’t been close enough to Chris for that, but I was still sad. And I blamed myself for stirring up suspicions he’d long put to rest. If I hadn’t brought up questions about the past, would he have started blabbing about Missy to the press? Would he have ever made the mob connection?

I shook the thought away. “It’s okay. I don’t know what to say either. Except, stay safe. If going to the resort is how Reeve thinks you’ll be best protected, listen to him.” I meant what’d I’d said, but I didn’t want to think about the efforts Reeve was going to in order to keep her from Michelis. And I was still upset that he wouldn’t agree to talk to his uncle, even though he was convinced it was hopeless.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to planning.” I hadn’t told Amber yet about my plans to go. This wasn’t how I’d wanted her to find out, but I needed to make sure others knew I was still firm in my decision. “I just stopped in to ask – what time are you thinking we’ll leave, Joe?”

Though my eyes were directly on Joe, I was ever aware of Reeve in my periphery, ready for his protest. Part of me wanted that – wanted him to fight for me to stay, even though I’d told him not to.

But if he didn’t, if he planned to just let me go, it would break my heart a little.

It would break my heart a lot.

Joe didn’t answer me. Instead, he looked to Reeve as if asking for guidance. Reeve responded by shooting a look at Amber, a look that I knew and understood as though it spoke in a language that had been scratched on my bones at birth. The look told Amber to
do
something – something that they must have previously discussed. And the look she gave him in return was the one I was most familiar with – it was a look of acquiescence.

“I need to make arrangements,” Reeve said. He stood and left the room with Brent in tow.

Exhaustion fell over me like a curtain. I knew what was coming and, in some hidden remote place inside where I was still capable of strong emotions, I was outraged and on guard. This was not how I wanted him to fight for me. It wasn’t what I wanted at all.

But mostly I was just tired. Tired of fighting and hurting and loving. Tired of always needing to please.

Amber watched as Reeve left the room then smiled in my direction. “Come sit by me.”

She hadn’t even blinked when I said I was leaving. She’d already known. Of course she’d already known.

I didn’t move. “Just out with it. I’m ready.” Or, rather, I was resigned. Resigned to listen, resigned to this feeling of betrayal. I was
not
resigned to agree, but, if experience told me anything, I probably had no other option.

Amber pursed her lips, unhappy that I’d refused her invitation. “You’re going to be difficult, aren’t you?” she teased.

When I didn’t answer, she sighed. “It’s not just me who needs protection anymore.” She said it softly, breaking the news gently.

“You think I don’t know that?” It had been the more selfish of my current worries. If Vilanakis had killed Chris because of what he knew, what would he do to me? I was half sure the only reason I’d been able to leave his hotel room alive was because I still had a possibility of proving useful. What would he do when he realized I didn’t have the power over Reeve that he imagined I had?

What would he do when it became apparent that I wasn’t even with Reeve anymore?

“I’ll hire protection,” I said, resolutely. “Joe will help. Won’t you, Joe? Or direct me to someone who can do the job?”

“There will be quite a few things I’d want to put in place before I felt you were safe back in LA.” He appeared sincerely contrite as he added, “Going away to a private island for a few weeks while I arrange that isn’t a bad idea.”

“You didn’t think my leaving was such a bad idea last night. Last night when Reeve
kicked you off the ranch
. Remember that? Now you’re on his side?” Apparently, I was still capable of expressing emotion after all.

“A lot has happened since then,” he said patiently.

I let out an exasperated groan, tears of frustration brimming under my lids.

“Sit by me.” Amber patted the cushion next to her. “Hear us out.”

Us.
The word referred to her and Joe, but I knew all the power behind it was Reeve. This conversation had been arranged by him. This intervention. I’d told him not to tell me to stay, and he’d found a way around it.

Frowning, I circled the couch and plopped on the spot between the two of them. “I’m listening.”

“The island is secluded,” Amber began, as if reciting from a travel brochure. “He owns all of it. Besides the resort on the opposite shore, his private compound is the only developed land. He’s personally informed when anyone lands or docks and, unlike here at the ranch, his home there is not shared with any guests or seasonal workers.”

“The security system there is the most advanced of all his properties. It was apparently designed to be a safe house of sorts.” Despite his encouragement, Joe’s tone belied that a man who needed such an asylum was not the kind of man he approved of.

“It will only be for a couple of weeks, Em. Just long enough for Reeve’s men to negotiate some sort of peace.” Her argument was sound and convincing, but, like Joe, her expression showed a lack of enthusiasm for her viewpoint.

I pulled my legs up to my chest, rested a cheek on my knees, and studied her. I hadn’t seen her since Jenkins had been found dead, and I hadn’t spoken to her since we’d been on the roof together. So she knew that I’d had a relationship with Reeve. I’d been ridiculous to ever think she wouldn’t figure that out immediately.

“Don’t you want time alone with Reeve?” It was harder than I thought it would be to make the suggestion. “A secluded island paradise – it sounds awfully romantic.”

“It’s definitely romantic,” she agreed. “He took me there for a getaway once last year.”

It wasn’t my imagination that she was boasting. Reminding me of the relationship she’d had with him before me. Reminding me that she’d had him first.

I had things to remind her of as well. Like how easily I could see through her. “You don’t really want me there.” It wasn’t an accusation. It was simply the truth. I understood where she was coming from – I didn’t want her on that island with Reeve either.

For a second, she looked like she might deny it.

Then, she didn’t. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you.”

“I know.” I was so sincere in that statement that I said it again. “I know.”

There was a strange comfort in the confirmation that our friendship was important and separate from Reeve, as separate as it could be with the entanglement we’d found ourselves in.

“It’s just… you know, PGR.” She winked.

PGR – Pretty Girl Ratio – was an Amber-created term that I hadn’t thought about in years. It was used to refer to the ratio of attractive women to attractive men in any given social situation. When we were between men and in search of a new one, we’d choose which opportunities were best for the possibility of finding one based on the PGR. At the bar of a luxury hotel, for example, if a peek inside showed a high ratio of pretty girls to wealthy men, we’d find another bar.
Why stack the odds against ourselves?
she’d say.

Her use of the term now was obvious. The two of us to Reeve – someone was guaranteed to lose. And even when I would surely be that loser, it would be a bitter victory for her. She was the girl who always won, but she wasn’t heartless.

I bit my lip. “If you don’t want me there, then why are you asking me to come?” I knew the answer so I didn’t wait for hers. “Because Reeve told you to ask me, right? That’s not like you to let someone else make your decisions for you.”

Her grin was coy, saying she was both proud and a touch embarrassed to be called out on her reputation as a diva. “You know how to play the game,” she said. “Sometimes when you’re trying to win the guy, you have to forget who you are for a minute and be who he wants you to be.”

I sat with her statement, unsure how to let it settle. Somehow I’d forgotten that about her – forgotten that, even though she was a natural princess, she could play submissive when she needed to.

And what a time for her to remind me.

She was honest, at least. I was grateful for that, and, if I had any inkling to begrudge her for taking that position, I knew I had to swallow it. Because flexibility had been one of the most basic rules of our man-hunting. I’d focused on that very idea when I’d prepared myself to go after Reeve –
be who he wants you to be
. And I had been.

But then I’d fallen for him, and when I had, it had been genuine and the ways I’d won him had been honest. It bothered me that she had to pretend in order to fight for his affection. Almost as much as it bothered me that he’d taken advantage of her willingness to do so.

I lowered my feet to the floor. “I’m sorry he put you in this position.” I cringed at my words as soon as they were out. I couldn’t apologize for him, and I didn’t want to. “I’m sorry
I
put you in this position,” I corrected.
God, what a mess.

“Not any more sorry than I am for dragging you into this to begin with.”

Oh, yeah. That.

We’d shift blame all day if we didn’t stop now. Blame wasn’t productive.

Thankfully, she knew it as well as I did. “No more apologies.” She started to get up, and then paused to place a hand on my knee. “It’s early and I haven’t had coffee or a smoke. We can talk more about this later, if you want. But, come to the island with us. Okay?”

She gave me the same look that Reeve had given her. The one that said
I know you’ll do what I want so I don’t even need to hear you agree.

At that moment, I hated seeing that look on her face as much as I’d ever loved seeing it on Reeve’s. My hatred for it, as much as the power it held over me, kept me from answering – I didn’t want to and I didn’t need to.