Skin (19 page)

He was waiting for her to open up, something she’d only done with the therapist she’d seen in college.
And with Elena.
But talking to the camera rather than to a person – once more Michael was enveloped in shadow, almost removing him from the room – freed her.

“Marlon Aldrich hated me from the moment Mama brought him home. First he slapped me if I mouthed off to him when he got drunk and mean. Then he hit me harder if I got between him and Mama. Pretty soon, he used any excuse to beat me. I ended up in the ER numerous times.”

“What about the police?”

“What police? My mother covered for him, backed up his lies about accidents, about my being too clumsy. She used to tell me not to argue with him, that setting him off like that was my fault.” She took a deep breath.
Licked her lips.
The pain was old and yet fresh. The rest came out in an agonized rush. “I had to leave before it went further. I had some very dark thoughts. I started sleeping with a knife under my pillow. You can understand that, can’t you? I was a terrified seventeen-year-old. When I went away to school, my sister wanted to come with me, but how could I take care of a twelve-year-old? Besides, my sister was so timid, Marlon always just ignored her. I swear to God I didn’t think he would ever put a hand on her.”

“The physical abuse...” Michael’s voice was thick, as if he was angry in her stead. “...how did it affect your life?”

“By making
me
determined never to let it happen again. I learned to protect myself. Ever since college, I’ve been in a program called Street Survival, something I will be involved with forever. I take the class over and over every year to stay fighting sharp. My version of going to AA, I guess. Not that I was a pain addict. I just always want to be able to protect myself, to make sure a man never has the upper hand with me again.”

Not even long enough to make her dance for him. She was still worrying about that, hoping against hope that he would be caught and Hannah saved before she was forced into the limelight to strip for a roomful of strange men.

Wanting to know if what Gabe told her about Michael was true, she asked, “So what about
your
father?”

“He’s a sociologist. The kindest, gentlest man you’d ever want to meet.”

“You don’t have to sound so apologetic about it. I mean your
birth
father. Last time you said you were adopted and your birth mother was a stripper, but you didn’t tell me about
him
. Your mother did tell you about the man who fathered you, didn’t she?”

“Not at first and not easily. Tony isn’t what you would call an upstanding citizen. No surprise considering where he met my mother. Not a gentlemen’s club where they have fancy areas for bachelor and bachelorette parties.
A strip joint.
Old school.
One that was run by The Outfit.”

So he
was
connected. Gabe hadn’t exaggerated.

Her pulse tick-ticked when she asked, “Did you meet him?”

“I was curious.”

She wished she could see his face. Not that she would get anything off him if he didn’t want her to. He was fully capable of hiding what he was thinking or feeling.

“What about focusing on your father’s lifestyle in a documentary?” she asked.

“About mobsters?”
He laughed. “Sorry, but you have to be kidding. That’s been done before.
Nothing new to mine.
Besides, I like taking chances, but not with my life.”

“So your real father is dangerous.”

“I’m told he was. I don’t know about now. Most of those old mob guys went legit years ago. They took the money they earned illegally and put it into legal businesses. None of them want to make the state pen their retirement home. That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t have someone step in to protect their ‘good names.’”

Again, the laugh.

“So what does he do?”

Michael gave her an odd expression, then said, “You did it again, turned the conversation around. We weren’t supposed to be talking about me.”

Which meant he wasn’t going to answer.
“To tell the truth,” she said, “I’m all talked out tonight.”

Lilith slid off the stool and walked over to the cart near the fireplace where he kept his liquor. She took a quick look to see what he
didn’t
have, and when he asked, “Can I make you a drink?” she returned, “I would love a glass of red wine.”

“I’m out, but I can easily get a bottle. It’ll only take me fifteen-twenty minutes. There’s a liquor store with a great stock two blocks from here. What’s your preference?”

Thankfully, he didn’t seem suspicious. All was going according to plan. She needed him out of there to search for the heart-half.

“Malbec if they have it. If not, a Shiraz. Really, anything will do.”

“No problem.” He backed off toward the door. “I’m going to walk. I’ll leave your car up front. Your keys are here,” he said, leaving them on a small table next to the front door. “But you are going to be here when I return, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t disappear,” she said, thinking about how Hannah had.

The minute he was out the door, Lilith went to the window. While Michael’s building was off the main drag, she could see lights from restaurants and storefronts a few blocks away. She checked her watch to keep track of time. The moment she saw Michael on the street, she started her search, opening drawers, looking in boxes he had stacked all over the place.
Even the small ones – anything big enough to hold a heart-half.
Or anything else suspicious.

Nothing.

She hated doing this, hated suspecting Michael even a little,
hated
betraying him. But if the task force had him on its radar, there had to be a reason why. Gabe had been correct when he’d claimed Michael’s father was connected. He’d also said the man was dangerous, but Michael had shrugged that off. If she kept at him about his birth father, would he tell her what he was holding back, or would he simply close up?

Finished in the main room, she headed for his office and editing room. She checked her watch. He’d been gone nine minutes. Did she really have time to search it? She worked as quickly as possible and found nothing to tell her he wasn’t exactly who he claimed to be.

Six minutes left.
Hopefully, more.
He’d said fifteen to twenty.

Keeping her ears open for noises that would tell her he’d returned, she crossed to his bedroom, big enough for a King-sized platform bed with an extended headboard and nightstands. She gave them a thorough once-over but found nothing of interest.
To her relief, no heart-half.
Next, she looked over the shelves on the wall unit. Tidy.
Books.
A framed photo of an older woman.
His mother?

She opened a drawer.
Underwear and T-shirts.

Another drawer.
Sweaters.

Another.
Papers.

This one she searched, careful to put things back as she found them.

The last drawer held small personal items and a flat case – a man’s jewelry box.

Hand trembling, she opened the lid. Inside: cufflinks, tie tacks, a heavy bracelet.

No heart-half. Relief washed through her.

The sound of a key in the lock made her heart thud. She shoved the box into place and closed the drawer and was barely back into the main room before Michael walked in, bag in hand. He set the bottle of wine on the counter and fetched a battery-operated opener from a cabinet.

“You didn’t leave, after all. I was afraid this might be wasted.”

“And if I had?”

“My bad luck.”

He used the wine opener on the bottle, and she fetched two stemmed glasses from the cart and brought them to the island, where he filled them and handed her one.

They clinked and sipped, and she said, “I thought you were just interested in my mind.”

“I’ve expanded my interests.”

The wine warmed Lilith inside.
Relaxed her.
She’d been living and breathing tension – had been trying to hold fear for Hannah at bay – and just letting go of all that for a little while was a relief. She finished her glass and let him refill it. She was so relieved at not having found anything incriminating in her search, especially not Hannah’s heart-
half, that
she smiled,
really
smiled, for the first time with him.

Topping off their glasses, he said, “I like that.
The smile.
You don’t do that often enough.”

“Give me reason.”

“I thought you would never ask.”

Feeling more for this man than she wanted to, Lilith couldn’t move. He locked onto her gaze, and she felt something between them clicking.
Growing.

Attraction.

Empathy.

Connection.

He reached out, touched her cheek and moved closer.
Slanted his mouth over hers.
A brush of lips that made her entire body
sigh
. He pulled back a paper-width and their eyes connected again.

Michael slid his hand around her head to draw her to him more fully.

She needed this.
Needed a way to forget her fears, even if for a little while.
Needed his touch.
His mouth on hers.
His hand roaming along her hip, lifting her skirt, seeking her heat.

“Michael!” she whispered when he made her thighs quiver in response.

“Do you want me to stop?”

His fingers were already inside the edge of her panties, parting her lips, burrowing into her wet warmth. She could hardly breathe, her pulse was racing,
her
flesh was on fire.

It was just sex.

A much-needed release.

In answer, she kissed and opened to him.

He played her like a violin, with the precision of a man who knew a woman’s body, who knew the instrument that would make her whole body sing. Her clit had never known such a master. He played her faster and faster until she was nearly mindless with wanting and needing and, finally, having.

When she came, he had to hold her so she didn’t slip to the floor. Her knees seemed to have disappeared.

Her heart was pounding. Her head was light. Her skin was slick with
a sheen
of afterglow.

No words passed between them. He refilled their glasses, handed one to her. She downed her wine and set down the glass.

Then undid his belt and unzipped his jeans.

He was ready for her. Hot.
Heavy.
Hard.
He pulsed when she touched him.

With a moan, he leaned back against the counter, braced both hands on the edge and watched her intently. He filled her hand. And when he leaned forward and kissed her again, he filled her mouth. He set the rhythm with his tongue. She followed with her hand and fingers, flashing over his length, thumbing his tip and spreading the fluid there over his head.

He let go of the counter and found her breasts, slid under the material of her dress and bra so that she felt his flesh against hers.
Felt him thumb her nipples in the same escalating pace.
Heat spread through her, and her head grew lighter. She had to have him inside her. With her free hand, she moved her panties to the side and with the other, guided him up her slick path.

Catching her buttocks with both hands, he hitched her up so he could go deeper. She wound her legs around his back and rode him hard.

When they came, it was together.
An explosion of the senses.
Colors, smells, sensations all intensified.

He held her wrapped around him, foreheads meeting.

And then she quieted inside.

And remembered why she was there in the first place.

Remembered Hannah was still at risk.

When Lilith insisted on going home, Michael expressed his disappointment but walked her to her car. He kissed her good-bye. Not the light brush of lips on lips. Not the intense tangling of tongues.

His kiss was warm and deep and possessive.

And left her feeling guilty on two fronts, both because she’d betrayed him and because, for a few minutes in his arms, she’d forgotten Hannah and so had betrayed her sister, as well.

oOo

WANTING TO FEEL CLOSER to Hannah, Lilith went to sleep with the stuffed tiger cat, remembering the past when they’d been as close as two sisters could be.

Memories turned into bad dreams, and she slept restlessly, forcing herself up out of another nightmare of Hannah being hunted.

A noise outside startled her. Her eyes flew open, and she sat straight up, dropping the stuffed toy to the floor. Heart pounding, disoriented for a moment, she slipped out of bed and looked around. She checked the locks on the doors and then went to a window and looked out. Everything looked normal. No dark car with lights on in the middle of the street. Dawn was about to break, but outside, the street was still dark.

Empty.

Wait!
Movement.
Lilith squinted hard.

In the middle of the street that moved away from the river, the old homeless woman was pushing a grocery cart holding black bags filled with her possessions.

Dressed only in a sheer negligee, Lilith slipped on shoes and ran to the coat closet, where she grabbed a raincoat. She fetched her keys and hurriedly unlocked the front door, but by the time she got out on the sidewalk, the woman had disappeared once more.

She couldn’t have gotten far.

Lilith took off down the street after her. Running in heels was a bitch, but she determined to talk to the only person who’d been witness to what happened the night Hannah was taken. Maybe there was something,
some small
thing
, that
could help her figure out the identity of the man.

Away from the river, buildings multiplied – one of the old neighborhoods with apartment houses and two- and three-flats and single family homes a century and more old. Here alleys intersected blocks. Undoubtedly that’s where the elderly woman had been headed, to pick up items tossed out with the garbage.