No Turning Back (21 page)

She flashed him a sexy smile that said she had something big planned. “You’re late.”

“I am?”

“You said you’d be here around seven.” She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him inside. “I was worried.”

He tapped the door and let it click shut. “You were?”

Snapping out of it seemed to be taking longer than he expected. He was in a full-on nosedive, sounding like an idiot and throwing out simple questions as he stumbled around. Good thing he didn’t drool, and looking at those bare legs tempted him to do just that.

Before he could break into his practiced statement, she touched him. Slid his damp windbreaker off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He tried to say something but the words lodged in his throat. So many questions, and a part of him that wanted to wallow in denial and not ask.

“Are you okay?” Her head fell to the side and that subtle confidence that ran through her faltered a bit. “Did something happen?”

That’s what he wanted to know. Days of being together and unbelievable nights rolling around on the mattress down the hall, and he was left wondering what it all meant, if anything, to her. He thought he knew the answer this morning. Now, after finding out about the secret meetings piled on top of secret investigations of the past, his insides had that scrubbed-out, raw feeling. An empty blank sensation filled the rest of him.

Funny how the world could shift out of focus so fast.

He could only watch as she fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, opening them one by one. Her hand pressed against his undershirt and burned right through to his skin. Through the haze and the last pops of anger, he wanted her. No matter what she did, the light in her hair and fire in her eyes pushed him.

And how sick was that? Only an idiot would let this go a step further without getting an explanation.

“It’s been a long-ass day.” The comment bordered on understatement but he used it anyway.

She finished with his shirt and pulled the tails out of his jeans, letting her nails scrape against his tee as they traveled back to his shoulders. “I thought you were doing work on the caretaker cottage.”

“Getting the supplies took longer than I expected.”

The moment was surreal. She stripped off his shirt and he stood there making asinine conversation, all while a huge weight hung over his head and he wanted to carry her to bed.

“Did someone say something to you while you were out?”

The opening he’d waited for. It hung right there but the way his blood froze meant he couldn’t move. “About what?”

“Threats and that sort of thing. Are you getting more calls?” Concern vibrated in her voice.

Pity, great. Just what he didn’t want. “The calls never stop, but nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

“Well, you’re obviously stressed.” Her hand went to the top to his jeans. “I think I can make you feel better.”

She usually did. “We should—”

Once she had the belt open, her hands switched to the knot of the belt on her coat. His tongue swelled. He should tell her to stop. Insist they talk and clear up any confusion. Should but wouldn’t. Not when material slid against material. Not when the ends dropped to the side.

“I have two gifts for you.” Her hand slipped into her pocket. She held a shiny key between two fingers. “For you.”

He came prepared to fight while she was stepping them further down the relationship road. The flip in direction had him reeling. So did the peek at the shadowed valley between her breasts and his very hopeful guess she’d put on those black-zipper panties again.

Without thinking, he held out his hand. She smiled as she dropped the key in his palm then curled his fingers around it. The step forward wasn’t lost on him. He knew this meant something and didn’t want to ruin the moment, not when her vulnerability peeked out from under her sweet smile. Not when she was offering him something he didn’t even know he wanted until it sat in front of him and he ached to grab it.

“Mine.” He meant her as much as the key and put all his force and will behind the simple word.

“Yours.” Her fingers went to the big black buttons on her jacket. “Now for gift number two.”

She undid the first. Then a second. With the third she unveiled miles of skin. By the fourth her flat stomach came into view.

Naked. She was completely bare-ass naked under there, and it was all for him.

All thoughts of confrontation ran from his head. Forget talking and arguing. Forget sitting down and working it through. He wanted the coat off and his pants down and the hell with anything else.

She slipped the final button out and dragged the coat to the very edge of her shoulders. The ends hung open and every delicious inch of her body was on display.

Unable to hold back, he slipped his hands inside and pushed the coat the rest of the way off. His mouth covered hers before the coat hit the floor. Hot and needy, his lips met hers. Their mouths moved and his head cleared. This. He needed this and nothing else.

With a palm under her knee, he tugged until her thigh balanced on his hip and her body stood open to his. His fingers dipped inside and his erection kicked to life when he felt how ready she was. If he wanted to design the perfect woman for him, face, body and will, he would describe her. The way she moved under his hands and mouth made him forget every woman who came before.

One hand cupped her ass cheek and the other slid around to her bare breast. She fit in his palm and he fought the urge to lick his way down there. When she broke away and kissed over his chin and down his neck, he inched back to rest against the wall. He had a feeling he’d need the support if his heart gave out over this amazing seduction scene.

It almost did a second later when she kissed her way down his chest to his stomach. Her knees bent and he looked down at the fiery mane of hair as she rubbed her cheek over his erection and skimmed her lips down his fly.

His blood caught on fire. “Unzip them.”

Fingers tugged at his top button then the pressure eased. A zip and a push and her hand passed inside his jeans and her tongue slid over him and a new tension swam through him. His back slammed harder against the wall as his erection disappeared in her mouth. Licking, sucking. Driving him wild until he thought his head would blow off.

She gave and didn’t ask for anything in return. She was open and sexy and when he closed his eyes he wanted to wake up again with her beside him. But now he wanted to be inside her and fast.

The incredible sexual torment continued for another minute, until he had to count backwards from twenty to keep from ending this with her on her knees. He craved the friction of his body rubbing against hers. He wanted it all. Whatever else there was they’d figure out later. Now, he needed to feel her, all of her.

His knees gave out and she sat back, staring up at him as he slid down the wall. A question lingered in her eyes.

This one he could answer. “Best gifts ever.”

He kicked his shoes off and dropped the final distance to the floor. Before common sense could smack him or life could intervene, he rolled her over him. His back hit the floor and her knees straddled his waist.

He trailed his fingers over her bare thighs as he stared up into those perfect gray eyes. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you.”

With his hand behind her neck, he brought her down, her mouth lowering to his. The kiss slow at first, drugged him, weakening his muscles until he didn’t know how he could move. Just when the churning inside him spurred him to pull her closer, she deepened the touch of her lips. Her tongue caressed the inside of his mouth as she treated him to a soft and lingering moan.

“Damn.” The last of his control vanished.

She lifted her head and her gaze met his. “Tell me what you want.” She whispered the words against his mouth.

In that moment only one thought thumped through his mind.

“Ride me.”

Chapter Twenty-one

The next day Declan sat in his bedroom at Shadow Hill and scanned the documents from Beck’s files downstairs. Since Declan started his late-night information sessions on the stacked boxes at Leah’s house, he’d become hooked on searching for information. There was so much on Charlie, and more on Callen than Declan had expected.

But something kept bothering him. He’d looked at the same files in those white boxes three times. Every time he stumbled, but he wasn’t sure why. Just last night he planned to move on to the brown boxes, but he stopped.

The white boxes. It all came down to the white boxes.

He shuffled the Beck’s files across the bed, the ones they’d all reviewed so many times, about the house. There was a match he didn’t see but a part of his brain fixated on.

Declan got to the old banking files and replayed Charlie’s sins. He stole from the town’s accounts. He took the money. He was the only one who knew . . . that was it.

Shoving Beck’s yellow legal pads to the side, Declan unburied the actual bank statements. Not Beck’s analysis. The original documents. The same ones that would have been a part of Charlie’s trial if he had been found out all those years ago and the statute of limitations hadn’t run on this crime.

One specific bank statement . . .

***

Later that night Leah turned over and reached out to cuddle against Declan’s side. Once that happened, kissing his stomach and roaming lower wouldn’t be far behind. When it came to him, she had zero control. But she doubted he’d protest. Slipping her hand below his waist usually guaranteed his complete attention. Usually stopped all conversation, too, except for a grunt or growl.

She expected to brush her hand over a warm, satisfied male then spend some time getting him revved up again but her fingers hit the cool mattress. Exhaustion tugged at her even as she forced her eyes open. Focus took another second or two. Drawing the sheet against her breasts, she sat up and glanced around the room. She blinked and the furniture took shape in the shadows. Bed, tables, lamps . . . no hottie boyfriend.

The door to the bathroom stood open and the light was off. That left the kitchen. Made sense. The poor guy missed dinner last night. He walked in and she had him rolling across the floor about a minute later. She’d planned to feed him after, but he carried her to the bed and all thoughts of food vanished.

Once he locked on a task, whether it was building something or kissing her, his intensity spiked and he dedicated his whole soul to the act. Being the center of all that energy, all that focus, made her breathless.

With him she was feminine and strong. Powerful. After the way they met he had every right to make demands on her and insist she spill every bit of information she’d gathered through the years, but he seemed content to let her open up as she felt comfortable. He didn’t even balk when she talked about missing her dad and wanting to figure out a way to mend the tremendous rip in their relationship.

Mallory threw around the word
love
, half as a joke. Until then Leah had danced around it and pretended it wasn’t possible, hid behind the problems that threatened to pull her away from Declan. Here, in the quiet of her bedroom, with his touch still fresh in her mind and the smell of him lingering on the sheets, she let her mind wander to that scary vulnerable place.

If she loved him, she’d give him the power to hurt her. The type of love she’d known from boyfriends and even her father had been fleeting or come with conditions. But no matter how many times she examined it she circled back to the same basic fact—she believed in Declan. In the two of them together.

Through all the stress and confusion, she wanted to be with him. She hadn’t wanted it or planned on it, but she did love him. It didn’t hit her in a bolt of lightning or slam into her out of nowhere. It was more of a slow build until she saw her life stretch out in front of her and for the first time she wasn’t standing there alone.

The admission she dreaded so much turned out to be so freeing. She wanted to dance and squeal. Her heart fluttered and she smiled until her cheeks ached.

The next step would be harder. She knew he wanted her and enjoyed being with her. Telling him the emotions reached so much deeper for her might push him away. But for a person who rarely took chances this was one she wanted to take.

Dropping the sheet, she got up. The chill of the floor and air hit her a second later. On her way out the bedroom door, she stopped to grab the pink slip of lace she teased him with two nights ago. The nightie barely reached the top of her thighs and dipped low over her breasts. Amazing the thing wasn’t shredded. He’d practically torn it off of her.

With light steps, she tiptoed across the hardwood floor. She didn’t want to scare him, but she loved when his surprised gaze landed on her and his eyes went all dark with need. If he turned that heated look on her right now they might never get back to bed.

Every part of her tingled at the thought.

She turned the corner, expecting to find him hitting the peanut butter jar in the kitchen. The light glowed above the sink, but the counter area was empty. She glanced into the family room and found it dark and quiet. Slipping around the corner, she spied him. He sat in the dining room with his elbows on the table and head in his hands. Papers and folders lay scattered in front of him and in haphazard stacks on the floor.

Her mind went blank. The vision didn’t disappear when she blinked. “Declan?”

His head shot up as his gaze trailed down her body. “What are you doing up?”

“I woke up and you were gone.”

“Okay.”

Silence beat down on her. He’d fixed the drip at her sink a few days ago, so even the steady thump of water against steel was gone.

His expression didn’t give him away. No emotion played there. The flash of something that looked like guilt disappeared as soon as she’d started talking. Now he stared at her as he slowly stood up, papers crunching under his chair.

Still, none of it made sense in her head. They rarely talked about the investigation these days. He gained nothing by digging into the past and had always been so clear he looked forward only. Yet here, strewn over the very same table her father gave her when she set up the house was the evidence of . . . something.

“What . . . why are you looking through my files?”

“For information.” He tapped a pen against the table.

The rhythmic rat-a-tat-tat mesmerized her. She had to pull her attention away from the drumming to look at him again. “On what?”

“My family.”

She didn’t remember walking or even moving but she now stood perpendicular to him and within touching distance, though she had no desire to reach out. Concentrating as hard as she could, she tried to restart her brain. “You don’t care about any of this. You’ve said a million times how sick you are of Charlie’s crimes and being connected to them through nothing other than blood but still getting all the blame.”

His unblinking stare faltered. “It’s not what you think.”

“What do I think? Tell me because I’m really not sure.”

“I’ve been reading through the material, looking for connections.”

Pain shot through her side. A stabbing shock that cut right to the bone. She had to press her hand against it to fight back the twisting ache. “Connections to what?”

The tapping slowed. On the final tap, the pen seemed to float in the air before he dropped it completely. “Something that would explain Walker Reeves and Kristin Accord.”

Those names, those people, they kept falling right in front of her and ruining everything. “Ask Callen. Hell, Declan, ask me.”

“I should have. I was going to.” That blank expression slipped.

No, he wasn’t
.

A nerve ticked in his cheek and, for a second, she saw a window into the man. The signs weren’t all that well hidden now that she hunted for them. He balled his hands into fists, straightened his fingers then balled them again. Worry lines crossed his forehead.

She swallowed back a burning sensation in her throat. “But?”

“I didn’t want the information routed through people’s perceptions or Callen’s anger.”

Raging disappointment filled in the space left open by her confusion. “Do you really think he’s committed fraud like Reeves alleges?”

“No.” The swift answer left little room for question. When it came to Callen and Beck, Declan’s trust was absolutely and his defense immediate.

This was about something else. Something that had Declan, usually so clear and quick to say what he meant, stumbling over his words.

She was more lost now than when they started talking. “Then what’s going on? Explain it to me.”

He shook his head then stopped. A dropped mouth and brief stare at the table followed. Just when it looked like he wouldn’t actually say a word, he spoke in a monotone voice. “There have been so many secrets. I figured if I could page through it all I might be able to make some sense out of it.”

That wasn’t it. Not all of it. She’d used that same excuse to justify keeping the files, and now Declan used us it to explain his odd actions.

“But why sneak around?” she asked, fearing what the answer would be.

“I didn’t . . .” Right before she unloaded on him with examples, he held up a hand. “Fine, I did.”

“At least we can agree on that.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Look, there’s something here. Something you couldn’t have seen because you didn’t have the full document. Even if you had you might have missed it because you weren’t looking for it.”

“What are you talking about?” Not knowing where this was going, she grabbed the back of the chair and held on to keep her from falling down.

“In that initial con, the one that kicked off all the others, Charlie had a partner.” Declan shifted through the papers and pulled one sheet out.

She recognized it from a long-ago review. “I’ve seen that. Charlie worked alone. He always worked alone.”

Declan flipped the paper over. “You saw this version. It’s probably a draft copy, but it’s definitely not the original. Not the one at the center of the con against the town.”

“I don’t get what you’re saying.”

“I have the actual loan document. It was part of the government file and got turned over, I’m guessing by accident and too soon after he died.” Declan kept talking even as she held her hands to her head. “There’s a note on the back about bank accounts. A note that shouldn’t be there and was probably forgotten over time.”

“None of this is important. If it was, the prosecution would have used it.”

Declan talked right over her. “Some of the letters are hard to read after all this time, but one thing is clear. My father had help when he stole the town’s investments.”

With eye contact gone, Declan’s gaze bounced all over the room. She didn’t even need that clue. It was the way he said it, hesitating over each word, that tipped her off.

Her mind blocked out the words she knew were coming as she dug her nails into the chair. “No.”

“It’s pretty clear. I’ve looked at other documents. I recognize the handwriting.”

“Stop it.”

Declan pointed to the faint scribble in the lower corner. “It’s a stray comment buried in a list of plans, this one about which bank to use for the legitimate account to hold the investment funds for the big town-marketing kick-off.”

No, no, no
. “Stop talking.” She held up her hand to block his words.

“It says, ‘will put the money in the Shadow Hill safe’ right next to the date, November fifth. Your dad owned Shadow Hill then, not Charlie. The handwriting isn’t Charlie’s.”

She knew every date. Every line. “That means nothing.”

“The date is one day before Charlie stole all the money and split town.”

“So what?”

Declan’s face paled as the life leeched out of it. “Your dad held the money that was supposed to be in the town bank account. The same money your dad certified he deposited in the town’s bank account and claimed he never saw again. Instead, he really took it to his house and held it there.”

“That proves nothing.” And it couldn’t be true, because if it was then everything she’d ever been taught and everything she’d believed in had been a lie.

All those years of plotting revenge and hours spent trying to regain Shadow Hill would have been a waste. Worse, a wild chase led by her father to drag her away from the awful truth of his crime.

“Your dad lied. He was in on the con and Charlie double-crossed him.” With a hand on the paper, Declan pushed it over so that it sat right in front of her. “Charlie didn’t just take your mom. He took the money your dad thought he would share in.”

Something shattered inside her. The love that had made her so happy a second ago, that she’d coddled and held so close, split her open. She’d been weaving fancy dreams and Declan had been in here plotting. Lies upon lies upon lies.

She launched her body, pounding her fists against Declan’s chest as words ripped from her. “Shut up, shut up.” She shoved against his shoulders then thumped him again. “Shut up.”

He held her at the waist with a light grip and put his head back out of hitting range, but he didn’t stop her. Her emotions swirled and boiled. She wound up and lashed out until her energy plummeted and it hurt to lift her arms.

His hand went to her hair as his whisper blew across her ear. “Listen to me.”

The sympathy snapped her back to reality. Using what little strength she had in reserve, she pushed away from him, breaking contact.

There had to be a reasonable explanation. She grabbed for the most obvious. “You did this.”

“What?”

She ignored the sadness in his eyes and concentrated on the images flooding her brain. “Oh my God, how did I not see it? You wormed your way in here and then planted evidence.”

Bile sloshed in her stomach. She had to clamp her lips together to keep from getting sick. The sex. Loving him. It had all been part of some sick plan and she fell for it, threw away her skepticism when he kissed her and never questioned again. She almost doubled over as she pushed back the tears that begged to flow.