Deception (11 page)

He reached between them and searched for the exact spot that would send her flying. He wanted to see her come apart in his arms. He wanted to hear her cry out. He’d missed that the most—giving her pleasure.

Her head fell forward on his shoulder, her soft hair sliding over his skin like silk as she rode his cock and his hand.

“Your knee.” The words came out in tiny pants that nearly drove him insane.

“Forget my knee. With you on top it doesn’t hurt.”

At this point a different throbbing diminished any other discomfort.

She closed her eyes and arched her back. How many times had he looked up at her like this? Lord, how he’d missed it. Missed her.

“Look at me, Tessie.”

She lifted her eyelids at his whispered command. Stunned, Alex could only stare into the green depths of her eyes, reading every emotion she’d ever felt. Pleasure, desire, anger, fear, happiness and sadness. Her breathing increased, her body tensed and her eyes grew unfocused. The muscles surrounding him quivered and clenched. Tess threw her head back and called out his name.

He arched his back and gritted his teeth. His hips pumped and he thrust deeply, sending himself over the edge and pouring his heart and soul into her. And filling up the void inside him.

Tess was curled in his arms, heating one side of him while the fire warmed the other. It was a moment he wanted to savor forever.

He’d spent six months without her laughter and tears, without her calming presence and sense of humor. He’d bought root beer to put in his refrigerator just so he had the illusion of her company. He didn’t even like root beer.

Never again. Never again would he make the mistake of leaving her.

She stirred and opened her eyes.

“You need to get in bed. Lying on the cold floor won’t help the pneumonia.” He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her, tasting root beer and rye bread.

“Your knee hurts,” she said, breaking off between kisses, then coming back for more.

“And you’ve been sick.” He nibbled her ear in the spot he knew from experience drove her wild.

“You need to rest,” she said, grinding her pelvis into him.

He almost lost it right there. Christ almighty, he’d had her just fifteen minutes ago.

“And you need to sleep.”

“Later.”

He grinned. “Later.”

A long time later Alex rolled over and gathered Tess close. They’d eventually made it to bed, but had neither rested nor slept. They had six months to make up for and it seemed they were going to do it all in one night.

He’d hoped and prayed for this reconciliation. Now that it was here, he was scared. He couldn’t lose her again, yet didn’t know what to do to keep her. She wanted him to change and he didn’t know if he could.

Just the thought of sitting at a desk, pushing papers, even if they were arrest reports, made his stomach hurt. He needed the road, a cruiser and the constant contact with civilians and their problems. He
liked
helping people.

Yet, he also knew firsthand what life without Tess was like. The loneliness, the grief and sorrow. And he’d hated it. While they were separated, he’d gone to work to escape, to fill the hours and to keep himself from thinking of his failed marriage, but the work hadn’t excited him as it had in the past. Looking back on those months, he realized he wasn’t as fulfilled as when he’d been with Tess.

So was it the career that had made him the man he was, or Tess? A combination of both? The truth lay before him like a huge crater he had to cross but didn’t know how. In order to keep Tess, he had to change who he was.

He didn’t know if he could do it.

Restless, he pushed the covers off and swung his legs out of bed. Tess mumbled and rolled over. Her hair covered his pillow and he reached out to touch a silky strand. A memory surfaced of him reaching for her hair, of her turning and slipping away from him, out of his grasp. He’d been in the hospital, still drugged from the surgery. She wouldn’t slip away from him again. He’d make sure of it.

After pulling on an abandoned pair of jeans and grabbing his cane, he quietly left the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Out in the family room, he grabbed the fireplace poker and broke down the smoldering logs.

He closed the glass doors and turned to switch the lights off the tree. A new ornament caught his attention. Curious, he turned the pink ball until he could read the etching.

Maggie’s First Christmas.

He stepped back, nearly stumbling. Blindly he groped behind him for the couch and sank into it, wiping the sweat on his brow and upper lip.

Your daughter, Alex. Say it. Say her name. I’ve never heard you say her name.

I can’t.

A sob broke through his clenched lips.

Your daughter, Alex.

Your daughter.

“Maggie,” he whispered to the silent house, finally crossing that line and admitting she had been real. Maggie. He swiped at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

The guilt was constant. Eating at him. He’d learned early on that the emotion would stay with him forever.

He’d been chasing the scum of the earth in a field, all alone, while his daughter slipped from the safety of Tess’s womb into the harsh realities of the world. He was cuffing the dirtbag when his daughter drew her first and last breath.

He returned to the police station, pumped up on adrenaline, ecstatic he’d gotten his man, while Tess lay in a hospital bed, devastated at the loss of their daughter.

Even though he received a royal chewing out for not calling backup and not following officer safety procedures, his fellow officers slapped him on the back and demanded he tell the story again and again—while his daughter’s cold body lay in the hospital morgue.

He happily complied, drunk on his success.

While Tess cried all alone, unable to find him.

Hours later the dispatcher remembered to call him. He raced to the hospital, his stomach twisting in fear. He couldn’t lose Tess. He prayed for God to save Tess instead of the baby. They could have other babies, just please, God, don’t take Tess.

But God hadn’t listened. He’d taken the baby—and Tess too.

He looked up at the ornament that mocked him, a tangible reminder of what an awful father he had been. Secretly he’d been relieved when Tess hadn’t been able to get pregnant a second time.

It got to the point that he couldn’t stand to come home to her haunted eyes and pleas for another child. He’d worked more, took on extra shifts, extra details. Said yes to things he should have said no to.

No wonder she’d asked him to leave. Just as he’d been a horrible father, he’d been a lousy husband, turning away when she needed him the most, closing his eyes to her pain, his ears to her cries.

He hung his head in shame and guilt. Always the guilt. Unrelenting guilt.

It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. It just…is.

Alex pushed up from the couch and limped silently to the window. Snow was falling again.
It’s not your fault.

The need to hold Tess, to feel her curled up next to him, drove him to the bedroom. She lay half on his side of the bed, half on hers, hair covering her face, hand curled under her cheek. He pulled off his jeans and nudged her over. He took her in his arms, burying his nose in her hair, fighting the tears and guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Tessie,” he whispered into the darkness.

It’s no one’s fault, Alex.

Would she have lost the baby if he’d been there? Margaret. Maggie. His daughter.

It just…is.

What if Maggie had lived? Where would he and Tess be then? Was it fair to Maggie to end their relationship? Was it fair to either of them?

I love you. And that’s a good place to start.

He closed his eyes and tightened his hold on Tess. Love had gotten them here. Maybe love would be enough see them through.

Chapter Thirteen

The winter storm may have stopped, leaving mounds of snow and ice in its path, but a storm was still raging inside Tess. She filled the sink with hot water and squirted in dish detergent, absently swirling her hand through the bubbles.

The last three days had been like a honeymoon. By unspoken agreement, she and Alex had locked themselves inside, ignoring the phone, emerging only to let Othello out and raid the refrigerator.

Since the storm ended Alex had taken to prowling the rooms, bored and frustrated. He still used the cane, but didn’t lean on it as much as before. She scrubbed the bowl, using more force than necessary.

Her thoughts had driven her to the kitchen to create and bake. Alex didn’t have that luxury. He couldn’t return to work yet and she could see in his tormented eyes that the thought ate at him.

She shoved the bowl under the faucet and rinsed off the soap. She couldn’t lose him again, yet didn’t want to go back to the life they’d had before. She wanted him the way she’d had him the last two days—to herself, without the pressing weight of his career.

Yet, deep down she knew that wasn’t possible. Alex was a cop. It wasn’t what he did, it was who he was. Already he was restless with a need to do something other than toss the ball to the dog and watch her bake.

Large warm hands crept up her back and under her shirt. Her head fell back onto Alex’s shoulder and she put the bowl on the drying rack. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and his beard rasped against her skin, causing heat to curl low in her belly, making her legs weak and her breath rush out of her.

“Been baking?” he asked between kisses. He turned her around, his hands rubbing her back. Brown eyes darkened when he didn’t feel a bra. “Storm’s over.”

She pushed away from him. “Yes, storm’s over.”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

He stepped back and held his arms out to his sides. “Hey look, ma, no cane!” He spun in an awkward circle, sort of half-hopping, half-shuffling.

“Do you think you should be doing that?”

The bright excitement in his eyes dimmed and his hands dropped to his sides. “What’s wrong, Tessie?”

She shook her head and sighed. “I’m just worried you’re overdoing it.” Moving too fast. Moving away from her.

He pulled her back into his arms. “Baby, tell me what’s wrong. Let me work through it with you. I can’t save this marriage alone.”

She laid her cheek on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He rubbed her back. “Don’t apologize. Just tell me what you’re thinking. I thought you’d be happy I could walk without the cane.”

“I am happy.”

“You don’t want me to go back to work.” He pulled away and looked in her eyes. “I have to go back, Tess. You know that.”

“I know.”

“It won’t be like before, I promise.”

She looked away, crossed her arms under her breasts and felt the heavy weight of Alex’s stare. “You’ve said that before,” she said softly.

He sighed. “Tess. Shit.” He turned away, ran a hand through his hair. “I screwed up before. I know that.” He turned back to her. “This time will be different, I swear.”

The back of her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. “I want to believe you. I really do.”

He took a step forward. “Trust me. I love you, Tessie.”

“Oh, Alex. I love you, too. I just… I’m afraid.”

He gathered her in his arms. “I am too, Tess. More afraid than I’ve ever been. I’m so damn scared I’m going to blow it. I can’t lose you again.”

She laid her cheek on his shoulder and didn’t know what to say. It seemed an impossible situation, with both of them losing.

***

Alex stood at the doors of the police station and watched Tess’s van turn the corner. A mix of emotions churned inside him. Excitement to be walking back into the PD, even if it wasn’t to work, and fear that he was losing Tess all over again. They hadn’t accomplished anything. She was still afraid to trust him, and sometimes he wondered if she
should
trust him.

He pushed through the doors and stashed his cane behind a decorative palm. It was one thing to hobble around the house without it, but he knew he wasn’t quite ready to ditch it totally even though he was amazed at how quickly he was healing. It’d been nearly three weeks since his shooting. According to the doctors’ timeline, he shouldn’t be this far along for another month or so. Which gave him hope that he’d be back on the road much sooner than even he’d expected.

He made his way toward the report writing room. He’d told Tess he had a meeting concerning the investigation. No way would he admit the truth.
So what does that tell you, Juran? You haven’t changed one bit. No wonder she doesn’t believe anything you say.

It was better she didn’t know or she’d worry, and he didn’t want her worrying. She’d done enough of that already.

He pushed open the door and stepped in. Uniformed officers were sitting on desks and in chairs, others were leaning against walls, waiting for roll call. It was the usual chaos—friendly ribbing, mild curses and ringing phones. A spitball sailed passed his ear. Two officers were engaged in a minor wrestling match in the far corner.

He missed this place—missed the camaraderie, the jokes only another officer would understand, and the feeling of knowing he had a purpose in life. An ache of longing to once again be a part of this brotherhood hit him low in the gut and his fists clenched in frustration. This was what Tess feared the most. This connection, this need to be with these men more than with her.

Tony, still in uniform, entered from a door on the other side of the room. He stopped to talk to a few officers, jabbing them in the arm in a friendly gesture and laughing with them. He spotted Alex and gave a laid-back salute.

“Juran’s here,” he said.

Everyone turned to look. Alex leaned casually against the doorframe to take the weight off his aching knee.

“Hey, Juran, you back for good?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Not yet, Harrison.”

Harrison groaned good-naturedly. “Give us a break, Juran. We’re having withdrawals. We need a dose of Tess’s cookies.” They all laughed, including Alex. The guys loved it when Tess baked a batch of cookies for them and complained when, for the six months they’d been separated, there hadn’t been any.