The Yearning (23 page)

“Like awesome?”

“Huh? What?”

Her mouth quivered. “You heard me.” She dropped the sheet and opened her arms, welcoming him inside.

Mike hid his face in her neck so she couldn’t see his grateful tears. She held him as though she truly cared or felt a great deal of sympathy. He prayed it wasn’t the latter even as he warned himself not to hope. “I should have freed myself sooner.”

She kissed his cheek and held him even tighter, as though she wasn’t certain whether to be motherly or wanton. Smiling, he enjoyed both.

She whispered, “I’m glad you waited. I might have thought you were leaving and…” She didn’t finish.

“It’s okay. We’re going to fix this.”

Whimpering, she turned her face into his hair. “What if you can’t?”

“I will. I swear.” Hands on her shoulders, he drew back so he could see her face. Her eyes were as wet as his. “When I call Erica, I’d like her to have all the information she needs. Is there anything you haven’t told me about Connor?”

“Not that I can think of.” Moving back into his chest, she rubbed her nose against the base of his neck. “I have some research notes on him, old addresses and stuff, on my office laptop. I could get it for you.”

“Later. Right now, I want you to try to sleep.”

Chapter Thirteen

The morning passed effortlessly, the first time in more than five months.

Intermittently, Jasmine heard Mike speaking on his cell, presumably to Erica, asking for information from her and providing it to her from the laptop on the mattress. Jasmine’s sleep had been so profound, she hadn’t noticed him leaving the room to get the computer.

Awake finally, she watched him as he worked. His large hands skipped over the keyboard. His hair caught on the top of his ear, falling forward. Annoyed, he pushed it back and frowned at what he saw on the screen.

Another dead end?

A part of her hoped, an equal part feared. She couldn’t expect him to stay here forever, helping her. He’d promised this would be over. He hadn’t said in what way. By finding Desiree and forcing her to stop the madness? Or by having it end on its own when it killed? And it surely would.

Even with her rest, Jasmine sensed the curse lurking, waiting for its next chance, an opening in her defenses.

“Hey, you.” Mike tilted his head, noticing she’d awakened. He studied her. “Everything all right?”

She lied with a smile. “I’m good.”

“No, you’re not. Your stomach’s growling.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s about time for lunch.”

“Have you or Erica found anything out yet?”

He dropped his hand, drumming his fingers on his knee. “A little.”

“Tell me? Even if it’s bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s just not where we want to be. But we will get there, I promise you.” He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, giving her a fast kiss.

Her lids opened, she asked, “What did you find out?”

Mike saved the file he’d been working on and turned to her. “Connor didn’t take a leave of absence from his job. He quit. His position’s been filled. His condo has a new owner. There’s no forwarding order on his mail. His driver’s license and tags were up for renewal a couple of weeks ago. He let them expire. All activity has stopped on his social security number and credit cards. He made a six-figure income for approximately eight years with the Hemmler Group and had a healthy portfolio of investments many would kill for in this economy. He liquidated everything five months ago and cleaned out his bank accounts. Right now, we’re figuring he’s living on cash and if he’s reinvested any of the funds, it’s in the name of someone he trusts so he can’t be traced.”

Her breathing sounded too loud, troubled. “Why are you focusing on him? Didn’t you find anything on Desiree?”

“Not yet.” His hand covered her wrist. “The Wanderers don’t like to leave the typical paper trails like birth certificates, tax ID numbers, records of school attendance or doctor visits. When she confronted you, did she say where she had first met Connor? Where he took her on their dates?”

“No. Why? Do you think she’d be frequenting those places in the hope of seeing him again?”

“It’s always possible. We’ll know for certain once we find him.”

“If he’s using cash, how can you?”

“The usual way.” He smiled, the kind a sage teacher gives a naïve pupil. “People just don’t drop out of sight and start new lives without help. Believe me, I know.”

“You mean your work with the service.”

“Exactly. The witnesses I protected were clueless as to how to keep a low profile. They all shared the same fatal flaw—a desire for the known. It’s what fucks them up every time. Making contact with someone from their past, engaging in a hobby or activity they’ve always liked. Connor’s no different. My guess is he’s not that far away. And we’ll certainly find him. It may just take a little longer than I’d hoped.” He squeezed her wrist. “Want me to get some lunch for you and bring it up here?”

“It would be easier for us to eat downstairs. While we do, I can tell the others what you’ve found out.”

Jasmine brought another chair to the table for Mike. Violet heaped his plate with two Monte Cristo sandwiches, warm syrup, a mound of home fries and several slices of cantaloupe. Lily nibbled on a sweet pickle, watching him eat.

“Something wrong?” he asked her.

She swallowed. “Pass me the salt.”

He did.

Her brows drew together. “I need the home fries.”

He placed the bowl in front of her.

“And a napkin,” she added.

He reached for them.

Jasmine spoke up. “Lil, knock it off.” Her sister intended to ask Mike for everything in the house until he willed it to her with his power.

“What?” the girl asked, feigning innocence.

Jasmine arched a brow and reached for the pepper at the same moment Ben did. Their fingers touched. She snatched back her hand and regretted it immediately, seeing the hurt on his face. His pain, along with her memories of their one sexual encounter, heated her throat and cheeks. She couldn’t think of any consoling words, nor would she encourage him. It wouldn’t be fair to Ben. She loved Mike.

Slouched over his food, Ben ate listlessly while she told him and the others what Mike uncovered about Connor, adding that Desiree might be trying to find him at the places they used to go.

“Sounds right to me.” Lily pointed her cantaloupe as she talked. “All we have to do is hang out at the local spots and corner her when she shows up.”

“If we take into account all the clubs, bars, restaurants and various attractions, it would mean hundreds of places.” Mike finished his lemonade. He shook the glass, rattling the ice. “We could keep missing her. It would take forever.”

Grabbing her fork, she stabbed a home fry. “You have a better suggestion?”

Jasmine did. “I’ll help with the research on Connor so we’ll find him that much quicker and learn where they went.”

“No.” Mike speared another slice of cantaloupe. “When we go upstairs, you’re going to sleep.”

She frowned. “What about you? You’ve been up since yesterday.”

He finished his chew and swallowed. “I caught a few hours while you snoozed.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Sure it is. I think I know how much rest I need.”

“Just like I know that about myself, so don’t presume you understand me better than I do.”

His brows arched at her sharp comment.

She refused to back down. The only way out of this for him was for her to find Connor and Desiree as quickly as possible. The restlessness had returned. Behind it would be lust. If it claimed her, she wanted it to be because she’d failed, not Mike. She couldn’t burden him with new guilt for not having protected her. “Give me what Erica’s found so far, show me how to dig deeper. While I do that work, you can get back to your consulting job and whatever agencies you have contracts with.”

Ben mumbled, “Homeland Security, INS, the Florida Department of Corrections. There may be others. I didn’t go through all of his emails.” He turned his head to Mike. “You’re leaving?”

“No.” He’d looked at Jasmine with his answer. “I’m seeing this through. You can help if you want, but you’re also going to sleep. I’ll make damned sure of it.”

Lily’s pale brows rose. Violet’s blush reached the tips of her ears. Ben pushed away from the table and left the room. They knew the only way Mike could be certain she rested was to slake her desire by making love to her.

The remainder of the meal passed quickly and in silence. Thoughts of Mike mounting her dominated Jasmine’s mind, constricting her nipples, dampening her pussy, stoking her need of him. Hands shaking, she put her plate in the dishwasher and went down the hall. At the end of it she saw Ben, his elbow propped against the wall, head in his hand. Hearing her approach, he dropped his arm and turned. She moved to her right just as he moved to his left. They danced back and forth, getting in each other’s way.

“Sorry.” He backed into the foyer so she could pass.

She smiled as she would to a stranger.

“Jas, wait.” He followed her to the stairway and spoke softly so only she could hear. “I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you during the time we were all…that is…” His blush outdid Violet’s from a few minutes ago. He dropped his head. “I thought you wanted me. Maybe I convinced myself of it, but I’d never hurt you. I know you think you love him. Could be it’s real, could be it’s the curse. I wish you felt that way about us, but I’d be happy if you don’t hate me.”

Oh, Ben. “Hate you?” She cradled his face, tipping it so he’d look at her. “You helped so much. I’ll never forget what you’ve done.”

He turned his head into her hand, kissing her palm. His words warmed it. “I’m always here if you need me.”

Footfalls came down the hall. Ben moved away from her, not acknowledging Mike as he edged past him to get to the kitchen.

Mike watched for a moment. At her side, he said, “You sleep first, then you work.”

His hand covered her breast, caressing it through her silk robe with determination, possession. “No arguments, understand?”

He never gave her a chance to protest. In her bedroom, he locked the door and tore off his tee. She noticed a faint buzz, the same as she had earlier when he’d pushed Ben into the hall. Air, or a current of energy, whispered over her, no stronger than a sigh. Looking down, she gaped at her silk belt untying, her robe parting.

His jeans and underwear dropped to the floor. He stepped out of them, his cock fully erect. With his mind, he lowered the silk robe from her shoulders, stripping her.

Jasmine’s heart beat uncontrollably with surprise, excitement and longing. “Are you showing off?”

“No. But I will.” Naked, he came to her, one hand on her ass, the other on her throat, his mind trapping her arms behind herself, wrists together, defenseless against his power and male appetite.

His punishing kiss aroused. Her throaty sigh couldn’t begin to drown out his pleasured groan. She tried to push her tongue into his mouth. He wouldn’t allow it. This act belonged to him—he made the decisions, she complied. His sex ground into hers. In response, she parted her legs. Not good enough. With no warning, he turned her to face the bed, bending her at the waist, grabbing her ass and mounting from behind. His balls struck her buttocks with each penetrating thrust, his power massaging and tormenting her clit as superbly as his fingers had all the prior times.

Two orgasms depleted her. Heedless of her fatigue and his own, he gave her a third, his lips on her cleft, his fingers, rather than his penis, pumping inside.

She slept. So did he, his leg on top of hers, his arm draped around her waist, a reminder she wouldn’t get free.

That night, he allowed two hours of work, then took her repeatedly, tirelessly. She behaved as a glutton would, or a woman in love, her hopeless cravings turning to rapture.

Three days later, shortly before midnight, she got a lead.

“Oh my God.” Jasmine stared at the laptop’s screen. She motioned Mike over. “You have to see this.”

He leaned into her, the ends of his hair dangling on her shoulder, his scent a mixture of soap and sex. “St. Rita’s School? Erica sent this?”

“Around six, along with some other stuff.” Her voice shook with excitement. “Connor went to St. Rita’s with his good friend Larry O’Rourke. Look at this.” She tiled the screen so numerous pages would show simultaneously, pointing to the upper right corner as she spoke. “These are yearbook pictures of Connor and Larry on the swim team, playing basketball, soccer.” Her finger moved lower. “This article ran when Larry became a priest. In the upper left,” she tapped the screen with her nail, “there’s a newspaper series about him. He left the priesthood and began an outreach service to the homeless, addicts, you name it. And this,” she pointed again, “shows the president of the Hemmler Group presenting Larry with a check to start an afterschool program for disadvantaged kids. Why did Connor’s company get involved unless he had something to do with the donation? He and Larry must have remained friends all these years.”

Mike un-tiled the screen. He brought up the Hemmler article, scrolling down as he read. “It says here, this group is recognized for its charitable contributions.”

“And of the hundreds of organizations clamoring for funds they just happened to pick one run by Connor’s childhood friend?”

“No, he surely had a hand in this.”

“Exactly. He disappeared but didn’t go to his relatives. I wouldn’t either, knowing Desiree might show up and cause them no end of grief. So, what other options did he have? He could have left town and had strangers surround him, but what if one of them turned out to be a Wanderer? If I were forced to run, I’d want a measure of safety, someone I trusted to be on my side. Who would be better than a friend you’ve known since your teens? One who was once a priest? One that’s not tied to you in an obvious way?”

Mike nodded slowly. “Connor’s name wasn’t mentioned in the Hemmler article. Did you find any press on him and Larry as adults?”

“No. This is the only article that came up on Google and Bing.”

“Tomorrow I’ll go to see Larry and if your guess is correct, Connor.”