Freefall (16 page)

“What do you mean?”

“We shared a room, and a car. She also didn’t have a chance at getting a scholarship, to be honest. By giving up mine, I was limiting her opportunities, too. My parents couldn’t afford to send us both to college.”

“Did you talk to her about it?”

“No. I didn’t want her to feel guilty.”

“So you made the decision alone.”

“Pretty much. My parents didn’t pressure me one way or the other, but I knew adoption was the best choice. I was able to keep my scholarship to Arizona State. I think I’m the only student in the history of the school who never went to parties.”

“What about Faith?”

“She went to
all
of the parties,” Hope said, smiling a little. “Her first semester, she flunked half of her classes, but the important part is that she went. She got the chance to be young and have fun.”

“And you didn’t?”

“I tried to...but I’d changed. Everything had changed.”

“Do you wish you’d made a different choice?”

She rose from the table and walked to the window. In early June, there was still snow on the mountaintops. “Sometimes. When I’m feeling really...empty...I wonder what my life would have been like with her. I wonder if she’s happy.”

Sam rose, putting his hand on her shoulder. He didn’t need a diagram to understand that the night she’d gone home with him had been one of those times.

“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“I remember the moment they took her out of my arms,” she said, her throat tight. “I’ve been replaying it over and over today. Losing Faith feels the same way. She’s my baby sister. She’s everything to me. She’s all I have left.” When she turned toward him, her face crumpling, he wrapped his arms around her. She braced her palms against his chest and pressed her nose to his neck. He smelled clean, like soap and pine. Beneath her fingertips, she felt soft cotton over hard muscle.

“You—you were right about Doug,” she said, looking up at him. “I wasn’t serious about him, so I didn’t mind keeping our relationship a secret. I have a pattern of avoiding commitment. It’s like I’m punishing myself, because I don’t think I deserve love, or a good man, or a...family.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she glanced away, blinking the tears from her eyes. He lifted a hand to her chin and forced her gaze back to his. “Hope,” he said, brushing his thumb over her lips.

“That’s why I want you so much. You have ‘emotionally unavailable’ written all over you. You’re bound to hurt me.”

His mouth tightened with regret.

Although she hadn’t come here for sex, Hope didn’t want to cry anymore. She craved human contact. She needed his touch.

“Please, Sam,” she said, licking the edge of his thumb. “Hurt me.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
HIS
WASN
’
T
WHAT
he wanted from Hope.

She drew his thumb into her mouth and sucked it gently, her eyes locked on his. With her silky dark hair and beautiful face, she was one of the sexiest women he’d ever seen. Her lips were soft and wet, her tongue hot. The sensation went straight to his cock, swelling him to full arousal.

Okay. He wanted it.

Just not this way, when she was vulnerable. He’d brought her here to apologize, and to comfort her, not to take advantage of her.

He’d made an important self-discovery today. When she’d come sliding down the cliff, hundreds of feet off the ground, with no safety gear, nothing between her and a certain death but him, he’d realized how much she meant to him. He didn’t want to live without her.

Although he’d like to express these feelings in words, now wasn’t an appropriate time. He also didn’t know how to break the news about his recovered memories. He couldn’t hijack her grief with his own.

“Hurt me,”
she said.

If he let this go any further, that’s what he’d do. She thought he was an emotionally stunted jerk—and he was. But she also thought she didn’t deserve better, and he wanted to prove her wrong. He could be a good man to her. He could love her.

What she was asking for wasn’t love. With the blood rushing from his head to his groin, he couldn’t think of a compelling reason to say no.

He’d be good later.

He took his thumb out of her mouth and replaced it with his tongue, pressing her back against the wall. She sucked his tongue just like she’d sucked his thumb. And his cock, the first night they’d been together.

He groaned at the memory.

She rubbed against him, twining her arms around his neck. He gripped her bottom and ground his erection into the notch of her thighs. His touch wasn’t gentle, but neither was her response. She bit at his mouth and dug her fingernails into the nape of his neck. With a low growl, he turned toward the bed and fell on top of her. Thrusting his hands into her hair, he plundered her mouth again and again. She tasted wild and sweet, like the strawberries in the pie. He wanted to eat her, all over.

When she shoved at his chest, he broke the kiss, panting.

“Take off your clothes,” she said.

He pulled his shirt over his head, eager to oblige. Her eyes trailed down his bare chest and settled on his distended fly. While he unbuckled his belt slowly, she removed her T-shirt and unfastened her bra.

Her breasts tumbled free, perky and dark-tipped.

His fingers flexed in anticipation. She kicked off her tennis shoes and jeans, revealing a pair of simple white panties. The fabric was thin, hinting at the shadowy triangle between her thighs and outlining the lips of her sex.

“Jesus,” he choked.

Abandoning the attempt to undress, he climbed over her and kissed her berry-flavored mouth once more, skimming his hands along her rib cage. His fly was unzipped, allowing the ridge of his erection to slide up and down her cleft. She gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips and arching against him. He cupped her breast, sweeping his thumb over the taut nipple. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said, rolling over and bringing her on top. He wanted to play with her tits until she begged to come.

She rode him through the layers of cotton, her panties and his boxer shorts. He alternated between sucking her nipples and pinching them. Soon she was breathing hard, her hips working faster, the tips of her breasts swollen and wet. She rubbed herself along the length of his erection, raking a hand through her hair.

He pulled aside the damp crotch of her panties, exposing her. Suddenly he was desperate for a taste.

Lifting her off him, he set her aside and straightened. While she watched, her eyes half-lidded, he unlaced his boots and stood to shuck the rest of his clothes. She stared at his cock, moistening her lips, but he couldn’t get distracted. He stripped her panties down her legs, pushed her thighs apart and buried his face in her.

“Oh God,” she moaned, gripping his shoulders.

For the next few minutes, he kissed every inch of her, sucking her sweet little clit, plunging his tongue into her opening. He did everything but get her off. When she trembled on the edge of climax, he lifted his head. She was so pretty like this, panting with need, her sex glistening and her nipples tight.

He reached for the condom in his wallet. After suiting up, he stretched out on his back again and held the base of his shaft, inviting her to climb on. She did, with relish. Her body gripped him like a silky fist.

“I’m going to come before you even move,” he said through clenched teeth, reveling in the feel of her. He wanted to grasp her hips and work her up and down, but he waited. Buried deep, he watched her rock back and forth, breasts jiggling. He lifted his hand to her mouth and she closed her lips around his thumb again. The dual penetration was dizzyingly erotic. After sliding his thumb in and out of her mouth a few times, he placed it over her clitoris, strumming her in slow circles. She strained toward his touch and screamed his name, her stomach quivering as she climaxed.

He liked that, her coming with his name on her lips.

With a possessive growl, he rolled on top of her and thrust as deep as he could get, burying himself to the hilt. He stopped thinking about her pleasure and took his own, slamming into her, pounding her against the mattress. She twined her arms around his neck and dug her nails into his shoulders, crying out his name again. He was only vaguely aware that he was giving her what she wanted, a hard fuck to drive the pain away.

He let out a hoarse yell, his head thrown back and his legs locked. His orgasm seemed to go on forever, leaving his body sated and his mind blank.

When it was over, he got up to dispose of the condom. She was already dozing by the time he returned. He pulled her into his arms, her back to his front, and covered their naked bodies with a sheet.

As he drifted off, he acknowledged that he’d just had the best sex of his life. Being inside her fulfilled him like nothing else. But there was unfinished business between them, emotions to sort through. He hadn’t told her he’d recovered his memory. He wasn’t sure how he felt. He only knew that he wanted more from her than a sexual relationship.

Satisfying her physically wasn’t enough.

* * *

A
S
SOON
AS
Javier’s boss was gone, Faith leaped to her feet.

She crossed the room quickly, testing the door. It was locked from the outside.

“Damn it,” she muttered, searching the interior. There were no windows, only slim air-conditioning vents.

Hunger drew her to the table. She shoved a handful of cheese and crackers into her mouth, continuing her search. The room yielded no escape routes or impromptu weapons. There wasn’t even any silverware with the tray. The only furniture besides the bed and table was a soft-upholstered chair.

She sat down and finished the food, glum. After she’d eaten her fill, she used the bathroom. It was a narrow space with an oval mirror, an empty sink cabinet and a shower stall. A single towel hung on the rack.

Javier’s boss had called her beautiful, but she’d never looked so hideous in her life. Her clothes were gross. She had scratches all over her arms, and a few on her face. The mosquito bump was hardly noticeable among the dirt streaks.

With a grimace, she removed her soiled garments, leaving them in a pile on the floor. She turned on the water and stepped into the shower stall. The warm spray soaked her scalp and cascaded down her shoulders, soothing her aching muscles. She scrubbed every inch of her body and shampooed her hair twice.

When she came out, she felt like a new woman. Stronger, more alert. While she was drying her hair, she noticed the toilet tank. She wrapped the damp towel around her body and removed the porcelain cover, setting it on the sink. It was too awkward to be a good bludgeoning tool, but she could break it. She could also break the mirror. Fashioning a weapon didn’t appeal to her as much as finding a way out, however.

Inside the tank, there was a float with a metal rod. Jackpot.

She took the mechanism apart, with some difficulty. When she’d separated the rod from the float, she approached the door. Although the thin metal fit in the keyhole, it wasn’t very maneuverable. She didn’t know how to pick a lock. For the next hour, she tried anyway, poking and prodding until her shoulders sagged with fatigue.

“Fuck,” she yelled, tossing the useless rod aside in frustration. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at it.

She was glad her sister had escaped—assuming that was true—but Faith worried that Hope was still in danger. Javier’s boss had someone on his payroll in the park. Her sister might have killed Martin and gotten away, but she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Neither was Javier, although his welfare concerned her less.

He’d brought this on himself.

Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she picked up the metal rod and crawled into bed, stashing it under the pillows. She tucked the blanket around her body and closed her eyes, trying to get some rest.

She must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew, a man was in the room, standing beside the bed.

Gasping, she reached under the pillow.

Nick held up the metal rod. “Looking for this?”

Faith swallowed, her heart pounding with panic. The towel around her body had come loose while she slept. With the sheet slipping off her shoulder, threatening to expose her breasts, she felt intensely vulnerable.

Although he had to be aware of her nudity, his gaze didn’t wander south. He set the weapon on the table behind him. His boss must have allowed him to shower and change clothes. Clean, he looked only slightly more civilized. His left brow was bandaged, and there was a disturbing...deadness...in his eyes. His flat expression reminded her of Javier. Nick resembled the darker side of him, the robotic fighting machine.

They were both killers.

“I’ve been told to rape you,” he said, matter-of-fact.

She recoiled in horror, clutching the sheet to her chest.

“This room has video cameras, but no audio, so it only has to look real. If you put on a good show, I won’t really have to do it. The more you fight, the better.” He paused, studying her. “Do you understand?”

Everything he said after “rape” was lost.

That wasn’t going to happen. Never again.

No longer concerned with modesty, she scrambled off the side of the bed and ran toward the bathroom. She planned to pick up the porcelain tank cover and smash him upside the head with it.

She never got there.

He vaulted across the mattress and caught her easily, locking his arm around her waist. “Good,” he said in her ear, as if she was doing something right. Then he shoved her face-down on the bed and unfastened his pants.

She screamed, kicking her legs and flailing her arms wildly. Her foot glanced off his upper thigh. Although she doubted she’d hurt him, he doubled over with a low grunt. When she kicked again, he grasped her ankle, holding it prisoner.

She twisted out of his grip and came up swinging. Almost by accident, she punched him in the nose.

That blow connected better than the first, but his surprised laugh wasn’t encouraging. “Wildcat,” he muttered, tugging off his shirt. He had a lean physique, nothing special, but the sight of his bare chest and open fly terrified her.

She scooted backward, toward the other side of the bed. Sliding off the edge, she grabbed the food tray and chucked it at him like a Frisbee.

He ducked easily.

Out of options, she stared at him, her heart racing. He came forward in slow steps. When his eyes traveled down her body, lingering between her legs, she made a break for it. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her down on the bed again. This time, he climbed on top of her, using his weight to hold her prisoner.

“Scream,” he said, tightening his fist in her hair.

She screamed.

He relaxed his grip, allowing her some freedom of movement. She elbowed him in the ribs as hard as she could.

The kick hadn’t slowed him down, and he’d laughed at her punch, but this blow actually caused him pain. He fell over on his side, groaning. She grabbed a pillow and went on the offensive, trying to smother him.

He ripped the pillow away from her and tossed it aside. Before she knew it, he’d flipped her onto her back. He seemed impressed by her evasive maneuvers, but not worried that she’d get away. It was almost as if he admired her for giving him trouble.

She slapped his smug face.

With a low growl, he pushed her arms over her head, trapping her wrists with one hand. He was breathing hard now, no longer amused or patronizing. Using his knee, he forced her legs apart.

She screamed again. “No!”

In the back of her mind, she remembered this moment with Brett. This awful, soul-wrenching moment. Reducing her to nothingness.

Nick freed his penis with one hand and positioned it against her. His first thrust didn’t find her opening. Neither did the next, or the next. She twisted her arms and bucked her hips, trying to dislodge him. He continued to go at her like a clueless teenager. On some level, she realized that this was his idea of pretending.

Tears leaked from her eyes, and she begged him to stop. Because it felt real.

* * *

F
OR
J
AVIER
,
the night was endless.

He’d been interrogated, beaten, half-drowned and strapped to a chair. One of his eyes was swollen shut. His head ached and his injured shoulder throbbed. Gonzales kept asking him where Alexia was. As if he didn’t know.

“Just kill me,” he groaned, praying for oblivion.

Finally Gonzales changed tactics. “Let’s talk about the girl you came with,” he said. “Did the two of you have an arrangement?”

“No.”

Javier had already told Gonzales about the plane crash, which had been an accident, and the shoot-out with the pilot, which he took full responsibility for. There was no way he could have enlisted Faith’s help beforehand.