The Lost (30 page)

Before yesterday evening, Bobbie had considered a
number of possibilities about why someone would want to grab Adam. Never in her wildest imagination had it occurred to her that it would be his parents behind the attempts.

She had no doubt about that fact—Selina and Kellen were his parents. It went beyond the physical resemblances and strange powers. It had been the love and despair in Selina’s gray gaze. The determination in Kellen’s emerald eyes, so much like Adam’s.

And the final straw, if one was even needed, had been the medallion tucked into her jeans pocket. She ran her hand over the bulge from the pendant and traced the centuries-old designs etched into the medallion, the circles and lines that looked way too much like Adam’s absentminded scribblings and the SolTerra company logo. Even then he had been making a connection to his past and the things buried in his memory.

A flash of burgundy red and the sexy purr of an expensive engine dragged her attention to the street. With the lack of summer traffic, Adam had pulled into a spot directly across from her and adjacent to the pavilion.

She rose from the bench, but couldn’t muster the strength to take a step. Her knees were shaking and the vibrations seemed to travel up to her core, fluttering about her stomach.

Placing a hand there, she waited.

He looked around and adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see her. Their gazes connected in the reflection of that surface, his distant, hers hopeful.

With a brisk shake of his head, he finally tossed open the door and stepped out. He stood there, hand on the door. Expectant.

Nervous, she thought, as he did another quick reconnoiter of the area in preparation.

He was dressed in comfortably wrinkled khakis and a light blue shirt that brought out the teal in his eyes. Eyes that were shadowed with slight bruises beneath them as if from lack of sleep.

As he took that first step toward her, she girded herself to silence the nervous flutters, knowing she needed every ounce of strength for the discussion to come, feeling the jump in her center as her body recognized his and responded with anticipation, even desire.

His powerful strides ate up the distance separating them and suddenly he was before her, large and imposing, his unique energy pouring off him and registering along every inch of her skin.

“Adam. I’m glad you came.” For an awkward moment she moved to embrace him, but then he leaned back and jammed his hands into the pockets of the khakis he wore.

She understood. If she touched him she might lose her resolve to go ahead with this, but if she didn’t, so much could be lost, including Adam’s life. That she would not risk for anything, including her own happiness.

“Please sit down,” she said, and took a seat herself, hoping he would follow her lead.

Instead he just stood there, glaring down at her, every muscle in his body coiled tensely and ready to spring into action.

“Last night… She shook her head and plucked at the fabric of her jeans, searching for the right words, but finding none other than the truth. Wagging her head a little more forcefully, she plowed on. “A man and a woman
came to my home last night. A man and a woman who say they’re your mother and father.”

Some emotion other than anger finally registered on his features as he rolled back onto his heels, sucker-punched by her words.

“My mother and father? Impossible.”

She did reach out to him then, grazing the skin of his arm with her fingertips, feeling as she had before that crackle of static as skin met skin, awakening the bond that had been created between them. He twisted away from her touch, as if fearing it would make him vulnerable, and maybe it would. She knew she wanted his touch and would do almost anything to be in his arms once again.

“I believe it’s the truth, Adam. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust them and think you should talk to them.”

“Talk to them.” The words exploded from his mouth and he raked his fingers through his hair, his frustration obvious as he stalked away.

He stopped a few feet before her, his back to her, arms akimbo as he stared ahead at the imposing structure of the Auditorium at the far end of the grounds.

She waited, thankful that he hadn’t kept on going, that the distance between them, physically and possibly emotionally, was not too great to span. And if there was a time for action on her part, it was now, she thought, rising and approaching him slowly, cautiously, the way she might a skittish animal.

Pausing barely an arm’s length from him, she reached up and laid a hand on his shoulder. Beneath her palm, his body quaked with tension, so powerfully she worried he might come undone from the force of it.

He dragged in a breath, then slowly exhaled. Softly
he asked, “How can I believe? After all this time, how can it be true?”

She hesitated, needing each word that she said to be right, knowing she had an ace in the hole thanks to the medallion in her pocket, but not wanting to use it. She needed more from him—some show of faith that he believed in her, she realized—and with that pause that she took, a low murmur rose from the Auditorium before them.

The loud warble of an organ was joined by joyous voices raised in song. The sounds filled the morning and wafted to them along with something else, a powerful presence, radiating outward and beating against them as they stood there.

She knew then what she would say.

“Do you feel that, Adam? It’s the power of faith. Of believing without question because you know in your heart that something is true.”

“You want me to believe in you like that?” he challenged, still staring straight ahead.

Her answer when it came was as pure and direct as the notes of the song filling the morning.

“Yes, because I believe in you like that.”

With a ragged breath, his head dipped down and beneath her hand came the release in his body. He reached up and laid his hand on hers and then he faced her. Despite his outward acquiescence, his eyes still bore the shadows of doubt, but she hoped that in time they would disappear as well.

“Come with me. I have something to show you,” she said. The Adam of old might have had a sexy rejoinder, but not this man, who was still suppressing his emotions.

With a gentle tug on his hand, she urged him to walk with her to his car, and they drove the few short blocks to her condo. They were silent as they did so, preoccupied.

Once they were inside, she led him to the living room and brushed her hand across his cheek, the touch awakening old feelings and needs. “I know you may not believe one hundred percent just yet, but I hope you will soon.”

Adam stood there awkwardly, wanting to reciprocate her gesture, but still not totally convinced by her words and actions. “What could you possibly show me to convince me you’re telling the truth?”

A quick flash of pain skimmed over her features before she mastered her emotions. Crossing her arms, Bobbie inclined her head in the direction of a nearby couch. “I think you should sit down.”

Since he didn’t want to delay her big revelation, he did as she asked, his forearms braced on his spread thighs.

She reached into her pocket and extracted something, he couldn’t tell what. Then she approached and eased into the spot directly in front of him on the coffee table, their knees brushing as she sat there.

As she raised her hand, he noticed the thick chain of gold spilling downward before she placed her hand before him, palm up, displaying the large gold medallion she held there.

Images pounded at his brain, coming at him almost faster than he could process. Memory after memory of the design etched onto the surface of the medallion.

The softness of a breast beneath his cheek and a gentle voice crooning a song. Long caramel hair and eyes blazing like silver stars. A deeper voice and eyes the mirror of his glittering with laughter.

The happiness of those recollections was immediately replaced by another emotion.

Fear.

He had been holding that woman’s hand, running in a low crouch as the explosions sounded around them and the ground beneath their feet shook as blast after blast chased them across the desert. A heartbeat later he was torn from her as hard hands grabbed his shoulders, jerking him away.

“Mama,” he said, his voice sounding painfully like that of that little lost boy.

A woman’s hand cradled his jaw, the touch so kindhearted and loving, it pulled him back to the present.

He met Bobbie’s shimmering gaze as she pressed the pendant and chain into his hand.

“You remember.”

Shaking his head, he clenched the medallion tightly until his fingers grew numb and the edges were cutting into his palm. “Only bits and pieces. Her voice. His eyes.”

“You were taken from them,” she said, and passed her thumb across the cleft in his chin before skipping it upward over his lips.

“My father. Salvatore. He knew all this time.”

“Maybe not. Maybe he thought everyone with you was dead,” she said, surprising him by offering Salvatore the benefit of the doubt.

He couldn’t.

“He knew. He hid me from them. It explains so much,” he said, and for clarified her how Bruno had moved them to the New York area only weeks after first finding him, told her of the many years that Adam had been homeschooled and tucked away from contact with other children, limited to the adults that Bruno had hand-selected.

“I was a prisoner and I didn’t even realize it.”

She shifted forward, easing into the Vee formed by his legs. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her face against his.

“But it’s over now, Adam.” She kissed his temple, trailed her mouth down to drop another kiss along the side of his lips as she cradled his face in her hands.

He smiled, feeling freer than he had in a long time, but she was wrong about it being over. Laying his hands at her waist, he grasped it tightly, wanting to keep her near.

“It’s only just the beginning, Bobbie. Salvatore has had some reason for keeping me to himself for the last twenty years.”

“I’m not afraid of a fight,” she said, fire blazing in her amber gaze.

“I don’t want you hurt.”

She silenced him by shifting her hand to his lips, her palm so soft it invited a kiss there. She shivered beneath his hands and her voice grew smoky as she said, “
Semper fi
, Adam. You can always trust me to have your back.”

Again he smiled, but this time it was because the last thing he wanted was to have her back. He wanted her lips and her arms around him. He wanted her in his life as his heart finally acknowledged what had been there all along, but fear had kept hidden.

“I love you,” he said, the words mumbled beneath her hand.

A hesitant smile came to her lips and she moved her hand away. “Did you say—”

“I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you kicking ass in the parking lot.”

Her grin broadened, spread across her beautiful face.
She leaned in, brushed a kiss against his lips. “You always say such romantic things.”

A chuckle escaped him, but then he grew slightly more serious. “You love me back, right? I mean in the movies, the hero says ‘I love you’ and then she says—”

“I love you, Kikin. That’s your real name, by the way. Kikin Chakotay.”

Beneath Bobbie’s mouth came the shift of his lips expanding into a wicked smile. “Say that again,” he said, and tunneled his hands into her hair to keep her close.

She said each word slowly so that he would have no doubt. “I love you, Kikin.”

He groaned and wrapped his arms around her waist, hauled her close and kissed her hard, leaving no doubt in her mind about what he felt.

She welcomed his kiss, meeting his lips over and over. Such hard, yet mobile lips, wielded by an expert, she thought, as he savored every inch of her mouth, playfully bit her bottom lip, and tugged to invite her to deepen the kiss.

Opening her mouth, she accepted the glide of his tongue, danced hers along his and the perfect line of his teeth. She dropped her hand to his chest, rested it there for balance as her world slowly tilted off center. Beneath her hand came that sensation of power. His. Hers. Melding much as they would soon join their bodies.

Of that she had no doubt.

With the back of her hand she rubbed his chest. Caressed the hard nub beneath the thin fabric of his polo shirt.

He huffed out a satisfied breath, lowered his arms to encircle her buttocks and, with a powerful surge, came to his feet with her in his arms.

Opening her eyes, she met his gaze, nearly black with desire. “Over there,” she said, and jerked her head in the direction of a hall off the kitchen.

In a blur of light they were at the door of her bedroom, where he paused to glance at her, seeking confirmation that she was sure. She grabbed his shoulders and levered herself up to kiss him, providing the answer that he sought.

With a needy groan that reverberated into her body, he took the last few steps to her bed, gently laid her down, and stood there for a second before he was reaching for the hem of her shirt.

She stopped him then, afraid of the scars he would see, breathlessly waiting for what he would do next.