Point of No Return (10 page)

"We're only going for the weekend, yes?" I asked, looking at what he'd packed.

He laughed as he got into my car. He was dressed in ordinary jeans and a shirt, but the grin he wore was something else entirely. "Yes, just the weekend."

I pulled the car out of the complex and asked where to.

"Mom and Dad live in Claremont, so onto the 5," he told me.

We found ourselves in the ebb and flow of traffic, and I thanked him again for being a good sport with the guys at the gym, and then I apologized again for the same.

Kira looked at me and smiled kindly. "I know they mean no harm," he said. "All jokes aside, it's obvious they respect you a great deal."

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. Joking is how they deal."

"And as for all the secrecy," he went on to say. "We just do what we have to do, my dear man." His hand

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reached over the console, and he squeezed my thigh.

"Whatever it takes."

He didn't move his hand, keeping it on my leg, so I slid my hand over his. "Whatever it takes."

* * * *

The drive to his parents' place took about forty minutes. We were far enough out from the city that I didn't fear being spotted, so I didn't hesitate to step out of the car and walk with him to the front door.

The house was an older, bungalow style home, very suburban, very family. Kira bounced up the steps and just opened the front door. He called out, "Mom?" as he walked straight in.

He turned and smiled at me, waiting for me to

follow him inside, and the first thing I noticed was the smell.

Something smelled delicious.

"Oh, good," we heard his mother say from somewhere in the house. "Kira, get this down for me."

After taking our shoes off, we walked into the kitchen. Kira quickly reached up and collected a container off the top shelf and handed it to his mother along with a

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kiss on the cheek. His father walked in at the same time with some fresh herbs in his hand.

The conversations started between them. I was soon smiling and laughing at the antics, jokes and eye rolls between them. Sal signed gestures to Kira when Yumi wasn't looking, and then when Sal wasn't looking, Yumi signed gestures about her husband behind his back while Kira tried not to laugh out loud.

I had no idea what they were saying to each other, but it was funny as hell to watch.

Soon enough, we were eating the most delicious dinner I think I'd ever had, while the conversation never stopped. Yumi asked me fifty questions, about work mostly, but then she asked me about my family.

"My mom passed away when I was seventeen," I told them, and the three of them stared at me. I looked directly at Kira, and said, "I never knew my dad." I felt his hand on my leg under the table, and he squeezed my knee. I looked back to his parents and smiled. "I joined the police force when I was eighteen. That's the story of my life."

Yumi smiled kindly. "You must be good," she announced. "Only good cops go on the television."

I chuckled, but it was Kira who answered. "He's the best there is, Mom."

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Sal signed with his hands, and I looked to Kira to translate. "He wants to know if you've ever been in a gunfight like in the movies."

I laughed. "I've been shot at, punched, kicked, threatened with knives, bats, broken bottles…"

Kira whispered, "Jesus…"

I looked at Sal and smiled. "But no John Wayne gun slinging."

Kira shook his head. "I think we need to take your kickboxing defense a little more seriously."

I grinned at him. "I thought you
were
taking it seriously."

Yumi stood up to clear the table. "Kickboxing won't make him bulletproof."

"No, it won't," Kira mumbled. He looked at me seriously. "I can't believe you get shot at!"

I snorted. "I'm a narcotics cop in LA! Of course I've been shot at."

Kira blinked, seemingly at a loss for words, but Yumi called him to help her in the kitchen, leaving me alone with Sal. I looked at Kira's father, and he was smiling at his son as he walked out of the room. When he looked at me, he laughed and stood up, indicating I should follow him.

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He walked into the family room and over to the fireplace. When I stood beside him, he pointed to the photographs along the mantelpiece. It was like a visual growth chart of Kira, from a black-haired, brown-eyed, smiling baby boy, to an elementary schoolboy, to a soccer-playing kid, to a karate-outfit-wearing teenager, to a graduate.

I looked at Sal and smiled. "He kept you busy?"

He laughed and nodded. He pointed to the photos of the baby and small boy then waggled his hand in a so-so manner, indicating Kira wasn't a bad kid. Then he pointed to the photos of him as a teenager and rolled his eyes.

I laughed. "I bet he was a handful as a teen." Then I looked closer at the photograph of Kira playing soccer. I looked directly to Sal so he can read my lips. "Did he have a black eye in that photo?"

Sal nodded and sighed. Then he put his hands up in the fighter's position.

I asked, "He was always fighting?"

Sal nodded and pointed to the photo of Kira in his karate garb. I nodded in understanding. "He did martial arts to learn self-defense?"

Sal nodded again, just as Kira walked back into the room. He walked right up to me and slid his arm around my waist. "Is my dad telling you embarrassing stories?"

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I chuckled, a little embarrassed at his display of affection in front of his father. "Just that you used to fight a lot."

"Still do," he said proudly. "Just now I get paid to teach it and keep fit."

I shook my head at him then looked back to the school-aged photos. "It's hard to believe you were ever that little," I said, rubbing my hand up Kira's back. Even knowing Sal was deaf and couldn't hear me, I leaned and whispered, "You were still cute, though."

Sal signed something, making Kira laugh. "Dad says you'll need to work on hiding your mouth when you want to talk dirty."

Oh. My. God. Sal read my lips…

I could feel my face heat, no doubt turning a dozen shades of mortified. Kira kissed the side of my head, still laughing, and a grinning Sal clapped his hand against my arm.

"Mom," Kira called out with a laugh. "We're gonna head off now." Kira swiped the keys from my pocket. I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, and he eyed me very seriously. "Do you know where we're going?"

I sighed. "No."

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Kira looked at me and grinned. Apparently, he won that one. I glanced at Sal, and while Kira wasn't looking, he quickly pointed to the kitchen where Yumi was, then to Kira, and then he entwined his middle and forefinger. He was telling me they were close, and they were a lot like each other.

I laughed, making Kira look at me. He then eyed to his father. He knew what we were doing, and apparently speaking in sign language behind each other's backs was a family trait.

Yumi came out with containers of leftovers for us to take with us and was still giving us instructions when we were walking out the door.

"Yes, Mom," Kira said for the tenth time. "I've been there a hundred times. I'm sure we'll find it just fine, even in the dark."

Sal signed something as we got into the car, and Kira snorted. When we'd pulled out onto the street, I asked him what his dad said. "He said 'have some pity on me, I live with her'."

I laughed, and Kira turned to me, unable to help but laugh too.

"Hey, babe?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"Your parents are good people."

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* * * *

We headed out on Highway 2, following signs to Wrightwood. It was dark, and the lights of LA got fewer and farther between. The highway seemed to get smaller with more twists and turns as we got farther into the mountains, and the night seemed to somehow get darker.

Kira talked so easily, about his work, about my work, about his family, and about mine. And I knew, although it hadn't been said, this weekend was a test for us.

Maybe even make or break for us. I didn't know what that meant exactly, or where it left us either way.

But I was hoping like all hell we were on the 'make it' side of the line come Sunday night.

As we reached the township of Wrightwood, Kira navigated through the streets easily. And when he pulled up in front of a two-story house and parked the car, I ask him why we'd stopped there.

He replied simply. "This is it."

"Here?" I asked, confused. "You said camping… in a cabin… in the wilderness." I could see lights of other houses. This was hardly the wilderness.

Kira laughed and grabbed some bags out of the car.

I followed him with my arms full, and once he'd unlocked

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the door and turned the lights on, I couldn't believe my eyes.

It was a wooden cabin all right, but it was decked-out with a kitchenette, sofa, rugs and stairs, which I presumed led to an upstairs bedroom. I mean, it was by no means extravagant, but it was homey. There was even a fireplace.

Kira smiled at my expression. "What were you expecting?"

"A wooden shack," I answered honestly. "In the wilderness."

He laughed. "This was my grandparents'," he said, putting the bags at the foot of the stairs. "It used to be a small cabin, but Mom and Dad spend a lot of time here and have done it up over the years. We used to come up here all the time when I was a kid. In the summer, I'd camp in a tent out back." He walked through, flipping on lights as he went. "We've always called it 'the cabin', and we joke about our type of camping."

I put the box of food on the kitchen counter, taking in the room around me. The walls were a reddish timber, and there were photographs placed sporadically along them. There was a large, comfy-looking sofa, a lamp on the side table and a small, round dining table. The windows were blackened by the night outside them, and there was

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something else… something that took me a little while to put my finger on…

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

"It's perfect."

Kira grinned at me. "It sure is."

We put the few food items away in the kitchen, then Kira showed me upstairs. It was an open loft-style space with timber paneled walls, raked ceiling, a wall of curtains at one end, and a bed at the other.

"Bathroom through there," he told me, pointing to a door. "It's only small and basic."

"Considering I thought I'd need to dig a hole to use the bathroom, babe, I think this is the Hilton," I told him.

"Actually, this kind of camping, I could get used to."

He laughed at me and walked toward the wall of curtains, pulling them back to reveal large glass doors.

"Come on," he said, still smiling. "Take a look out here."

I followed him out onto what I realized was a

balcony, only it was more like a large decking area. It faced the back of the house and was shrouded in darkness. He pointed to some neighboring house lights not too far off.

"See? Not complete wilderness," he said, sliding his arms around me from behind. "I didn't bring you into the
absolute
middle of nowhere."

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He gave me general directions, like the way we came, where the town was and the river. "We'll go hiking tomorrow," he hummed. "I can show you everything."

"Hiking?"

His chest vibrated as he chuckled. "Yes, Matt.

Hiking."

I sighed as he rubbed his nose along the back of my neck, and his arms tightened around me. Neither of us spoke for a while, we just stood out there in the dark with his arms wrapped safely around me.

I could feel the planes of his chest against my back, his strong arms around my waist, his breath on my neck. It made me shiver.

"Are you cold?"

I shook my head. "Mm-mm," I told him, as I turned around in his arms. "Not at all." I cupped one hand along his jaw, and even in the dark night, I could see him. My eyes were drawn to his mouth, his perfect lips.

When I looked at his eyes, their intensity and the way he looked into me made my heart thump funny.

"Kira," I breathed his name, and his eyes seemed to deepen, darken.

He nodded, like he understood what I needed. He knew what I wanted, what I needed, without a word. He

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just knew… without a sound, he took my hand and led me inside.

He took his sweet time with me, undressing me

slowly, reverently, like I was something to be savored.

And that's what he did. He savored me, every inch of skin, every touch, every kiss. He had me on my back, my legs bent up to my chest, and when he finally pushed inside me, he cradled my face and kissed me. Slowly and so completely, he thrust, so sure, so deep.

He was all I could feel as he filled me, again and again. He was over me, all around me, inside me. He was everywhere and everything, and it wasn't enough. His tongue filled my mouth while his cock filled my ass, and it still wasn't enough.

For all the times he'd fucked me, he'd never fucked me like this. Because this wasn't fucking.

It was in his eyes, in his touch, in his kiss. It was in his heartbeat, pulsing against my chest and inside me. It was how he moaned my name, it was how he murmured and pleaded, and it was how his fingers dug into my skin. It wasn't fucking. It was emotion and pure need…