Red Handed (28 page)

He bit her neck in response, and the pleasurable pain of it sent her careening into a full-body climax, her muscles turning liquid and hot as her core pulsed and throbbed. Seconds later, Cole joined her, his own body still except for the twitch of his cock as it released inside of her.

She didn't know how, but as if right on cue, the blinds lowered over the window and the audio feed quieted, so that the only sound in the room was their panting. They collapsed onto the pillows, and he kissed her tenderly, leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world.

But time was not on their side.

He pulled back, that knowledge mirrored in his eyes. Tomorrow morning, she'd be on a plane back to Arizona.

Cole planted a trail of kisses down her spine, and she felt herself responding, her body softening and moistening as if it hadn't just climaxed. She peered over her shoulder, viewing the erotic sight of it in the mirrors, and she sighed.

She loved the strong, confident man Cole was, but she was greedy. It wasn't enough that he loved every part of her. Until he could accept all the parts of himself, he'd never truly belong to her.

And she wouldn't settle for anything less.

He didn't have to say it.

Tonight had changed nothing.

Here in this room, they'd made love one final time.

This night was their good-bye.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Two Months Later

D
ANIELLE STARED OUT
her bedroom window at the surrounding mountains and desert landscape, wondering how she'd ever thought she could have a different life.

Two months had gone by without a single word from Cole. He'd not only let her leave Michigan, he'd provided her and Tasha with his private jet to take them back to Arizona. Up until the plane had lifted off into the air, she'd held some hope he would change his mind and beg her to stay in Michigan with him.

The minute the plane touched down in Phoenix, she'd started to cry. After receiving word about his mother's kidnapping, Roman had flown back from Russia. He'd been Danielle's rock, listening to her vent and holding her when she cried. It would have made it so much easier if she'd been angry at Cole or hated him, but she didn't. She couldn't.

Unsurprisingly, she had lost her job at the art museum. Barely sleeping, she found herself having trouble getting out of bed in the morning. Her appetite diminished, and she started losing weight without trying. When she did eat, she'd sometimes get sick right after. For weeks she'd thought her symptoms would improve once she adjusted to life without Cole.

If only it had been that simple.

After closing the shades, she dropped back into bed and drew the covers over her, her gaze falling on the original Degas paintings on the wall. They'd arrived a week after she'd moved back to Arizona, delivered by special courier. No note.

She'd started to drift off when a knock fell on her door. It creaked open. “Can I come in?”

Roman.

She wiped her eyes and sat up, resting her back against the headboard. “Of course.”

He settled beside her, stretching his legs out and sliding his arm around her back. “I'm worried about you. Since you came back from Michigan, you haven't been yourself.”

She played with a thread of her blanket, her chest tight with tension. “What do you mean? I'm doing what I always did. I read. Lay by the pool. Rinse and repeat.”

“I'm talking about the fact that you barely eat anything. You have no energy. And you never smile.” His expression grew serious. “I think maybe you should see a doctor. You went through a traumatic event. It's normal to suffer some effects after something so scary. Not to mention, you're nursing a broken heart. It's natural for the physical body to show symptoms of depression.”

She sighed. Of course Roman had noticed. “You want me to see a psychiatrist?”

“It wouldn't hurt. He could prescribe some medication—”

“I don't need an antidepressant, Roman.” She looked up at him. “I'm pregnant.”

His jaw dropped. “What?”

That had been her reaction to the doctor's diagnosis too. She'd chalked up her symptoms to her broken heart until one day she came across her unused pack of birth control pills and remembered she had missed a few while in Michigan. Two store-bought pregnancy tests and a doctor's appointment later, she finally accepted the truth. “Ten weeks. My gynecologist said the fatigue and nausea should pass in a couple more weeks.”

“Is it DeMarco's? Or someone—”

“It's Cole's. There's no other possibility.” She hadn't gone into details with Roman about her time at Benediction because talking about it, thinking about it, was too painful for her. At least now she knew there was more at work than simply a broken heart. The hormones had wreaked major havoc on her emotions as well.

“Have you told him?” Roman stood, his jaw set in anger. “If he thinks he can just turn his back—”

“No. He doesn't know.” She kicked off the blankets. “And he wouldn't turn his back on me or the baby, but it's also not what he wanted. I won't go into the reasons, but the subject did come up, and he doesn't want a wife or children.”

Roman paused and ran his fingers through his thick blond hair, seemingly at a loss for words. After a moment, he grew somber. “You're going to keep it from him?

She'd briefly considered it, but it didn't take more than a moment to decide she would never keep the truth from Cole or lie to him again. He deserved the chance to know his child. “Of course not. I wouldn't do that. I'm just trying to figure out the best way to handle it. I don't want to be his obligation. He's a good man, and he loves me.” She hung her head and blinked back the tears. “He'll do what's right, and in his view, that means marriage. But I'll always know he preferred a life without me or the baby over a life with us.”

“You can't know that,” Roman said softly.

“Yeah? Where is he?” She looked up at her stepbrother. “I've been home for weeks now.”

He got up from the bed and stuck his hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Gracie says he's miserable.”

“You've been talking to Gracie?”

“More like Gracie's been talking to me,” he said, reminding her of Gracie's chatterbox nature. “She was worried about you because you sounded so depressed on the phone. So she's been calling me. Daily. Apparently Cole isn't doing well either. She said he hasn't been the same since you left.”

The thought of Cole suffering didn't give her any satisfaction. “Then maybe he should do something about it rather than allow his fears to rule his life.” She sprung to her feet. “You're not going to say anything to Gracie about my pregnancy, are you? Promise me you won't tell her.”

Roman pulled her into a hug. “I promise, but only because it's not my place to tell. Anyway, congratulations.” He nudged her under the chin. “With or without DeMarco, I think you're going to make a terrific mother.”

“Thanks, Roman.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek. “So you and Gracie?”

Smiling, he stepped back with his hands up in front of him. “She's just a friend. But actually, the reason I came to your room was because she called with some news this morning you should know.” The smile slid from his face. “Michael Malone is dead.”

She covered her stomach, thinking about the child growing within her. Rinaldi had sworn that Michael would pay for testifying against him. “Was he murdered?”

He slowly shook his head. “Not officially. Officially he died of an allergic reaction to penicillin for the treatment of a sinus infection. His parents swear the allergy information should've been in the system and that Michael never would've taken it, but there was nothing in his records about the allergy.”

Biting her nails, she nervously paced the room. “Rinaldi did it. He's got someone on the inside. Killed from an allergic reaction, just like my father. He said he'd walk. Jesus. If he had someone inside the prison change Michael's records, he's invincible. No wonder the man thinks he's God.” She stopped and took a breath. “Does Cole know?”

He went to her and rubbed her arms. “He does.”

“And he's still not here.” The excruciating truth knocked her for a loop. Even when she'd thought she'd convinced herself he wasn't coming for her, a part of her had held onto a tiny shred of hope he'd change his mind. That he loved her enough to fight his fear. Baby or not, they were truly over. “Out of sight, out of mind, right? What if Rinaldi comes after me next?”

He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Gracie doesn't think that will happen. But just in case, I've arranged for a bodyguard to stay here. He should be here in a couple of hours.”

She pushed his chest. “You did that without asking me first?”

“Is this some emotional pregnancy thing?” He scratched his head. “Because one second you're worried Rinaldi will come after you, and the next you're mad at me for protecting you. You're not going to send me out for pickles and ice cream, are you?”

Annoyed, she growled. Why did men always have to blame the hormones? Wasn't it possible to go from sad to scared to angry in only a couple of minutes because the situation warranted it? “It's not pregnancy. I don't want some stranger here. I mean, where did you find him? Did you open up the yellow pages and look up bodyguards?”

“Give me a little credit. It's someone I know. I wouldn't trust some random stranger with you.”

Why hadn't he said that to begin with? “Oh. Okay then. And no, I'm not going to send you for pickles and ice cream. That's disgusting.” Besides, she wouldn't limit herself to sweet and sour when there were so many other available flavors. Her mouth watered. “But I would kill for some Wynters Confectionary jelly beans.”

He gave her a grin reminding her why they'd been such good friends all these years. “I'll make you a deal. I'll go out and get you the jelly beans if you promise to keep an open mind when you finally do talk to DeMarco. Because the man you've told me about—the man you fell in love with—would do anything to keep you safe, even if it cost him everything. If you're honest with yourself, you'd know that.”

Her eyes burned as she held back the tears. She wished she could believe that. “I promise. Now go get me my candy, and if you're lucky, I'll share them with you.”

He ruffled her hair. “You're my best friend, Danielle. I'm glad my marriage proposal didn't mess that up.”

“Nothing ever would.” She squeezed his shoulder. “But Roman, why did you propose?”

“My mom put it in my head that because you and I were already such good friends, we'd also work romantically.”

“Tasha said that?” Her stepmother probably worried if she didn't marry Roman, she'd spend the rest of her life living with her. She patted her belly. “I'm sure once she learns about the baby, she'll forget all about the idea.”

“I think she forgot the idea about ten seconds after she spoke it out loud to me.” He laughed as he walked out Danielle's bedroom door, but she knew a lifetime of his mother's indifference still hurt him. It hadn't taken Tasha long after her kidnapping to forget all about her ordeal and go back to raising money for her charities.

She wiped her eyes, a ball of sorrow, anxiety, and resentment lodged in her throat.

How would she tell Cole he was going to be a father in less than eight months? She couldn't imagine picking up the phone or sending a letter. It had to be done in person. She supposed she could wait until her belly was round with his child and waddle into Benediction. Then she wouldn't need to say a word. But it wouldn't be right to wait that long. He deserved to know now. Their lives would forever be connected through their baby. But as much as she wanted Cole in her life, she didn't want him by default. She wanted him to choose her and their child. Otherwise, he'd never completely belong to them.

She wandered aimlessly around her room, dragging her fingers across her dresser, stopping at her mother's silver box. “Mom, I wish you were here to tell me what to do.” She picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed, holding it in her hands as if it would give her the answers through osmosis.

Sighing, she raised the lid. She pressed her palm to her belly again. Someday, she'd give this box to her daughter. She knew in her gut she was carrying a girl. There was nothing she wouldn't do to keep her safe, even if it meant having a stranger guarding her twenty-four/seven.

The box slid off her lap onto the carpet. When she picked it up, she noticed the fabric lining on the inside bottom had shifted, and it looked like there was something below it. She dug her fingers underneath and felt a rectangular-shaped object. She pulled it out and laid it flat in her hand.

A flash drive.

It was longer than the ones presently sold.

Her mother had died before flash drives were invented. Had this belonged to her father? Had he hidden this in the box for Danielle to find?

A sense of unease banded around her chest, constricting her lungs. She held the flash drive as if it was a deadly snake ready to strike if she made a sudden move. She didn't want to know what was on this harmless piece of plastic, because she knew whatever it was had gotten her father killed and set the wheels into motion that had resulted in Tasha's kidnapping.

She and her baby were in danger.

She had to find out what was on this drive. She needed a computer.

For a moment, she hesitated and considered waiting for Roman to return, unnerved by the idea of doing this alone. But she couldn't wait. She had to know the truth. With the drive in her hand, she raced to the den down the hall, where she and Tasha shared a computer.

The house was quiet except for the sound of her bare feet brushing along the carpet. She entered the den and, sitting down at the desk, woke the computer from its hibernation.