All the Way (12 page)

Swiftly, he scooped Payton's small frame up from the bed and followed Lila into the bathroom. Payton's eyes fluttered, and she mumbled a few words in protest. He sat her on the edge of the tub as Lila directed. Tom left them alone, not venturing far from the other side of the door.

“Get undressed and get in the shower with her,” Lila explained as she turned on the water. “I'm not sure she can stand without your help. We don't want her falling.”

Adriano nodded, keeping a steadying hand on Payton as he tugged at his undershirt.

“Tom and I will be right outside. Call if you need me.”

“She'll be all right?”

Lila rubbed his back. “We need to get the fever down.”

The hypnotic urgency of water beating against tile propelled Adriano into action. He pulled at the drawstring of his pajamas, letting them fall in a pool at his feet. He coaxed Payton to stand and hesitated at the appropriateness of his undressing her before slipping the gown over her head. It was foolish to let modesty interfere when her fever blazed out of control.

“What?” Payton mumbled as he helped her under the spray of tepid water. “What are you doing?”

He held her around the waist from behind, encouraging her to rest her weight against him. “Wake up, Payton,” he whispered next to her ear.

Payton slowly began to rouse. Groggily she asked, “What are you doing, Adriano?” She whipped her head right and left to avoid the water.

He turned her around to face him, bringing her body close. “You have a fever.” He wrapped his arms securely around her waist, holding her upright.

Payton's lashes slowly lifted, and she looked up at him. “I'm so tired.” Her arms went around his waist, and she rested her head against his chest.

As the intimate places on her body touched his, Adriano realized for the first time they were
naked . . . together
in the shower. She was totally exposed and vulnerable. Pulling his body away—separating them by inches—would be appropriate, but he couldn't will himself to move. He had wanted to do this since pinning her to the backseat of the SUV. Chemistry was simmering between them, and as they stood nude in the shower, the intimate spray cranked it up to a boil for Adriano. Their bodies fit together better than matching puzzle pieces. The water passing over her breasts, off his abdomen, warmed with his desire. It felt natural—even though he should be ashamed—when he hardened and pressed against Payton's belly.

Lila knocked at the door. “Are you all right in there?”

Adriano cleared the lust from his throat. “We're fine.”

Payton stirred in his arms. She looked up at him with a trembling bottom lip. “I'm really cold. Can we get out now?”

Chapter 13

The murder of an FBI agent wasn't news in Chicago, a city crammed with so many newsworthy stories the odds of a reporter getting the front page was rare, but in Charlotte the story was breaking news every fifteen minutes on every television station on the tube. Jake watched the reports, hoping there was a television in the house where Adriano was staying. He was on the phone within minutes of the first report, tapping into the
Chicago City
newspaper's affiliate stations until he found a reporter who could give him off-the-record information.

“Give me an endorsement with your editor, and I'm an open book,” Ethan said over the phone.

“Done, and I'll throw in a Chicago-style pizza when you're in town.”

“It went down at Bentley's on 27. Know it?”

“No.” The only club he and Adriano had visited was Skye, and they had been relegated to the first floor with the other common folk. Even their semicelebrity status as investigative reporters couldn't get them to the second level.

“Swank restaurant Uptown. The official story is the agent was having dinner with his wife when two thugs tried to rob the place. He intervened, was shot, and is now a hero.”

“Unofficially?”

“The agent was having dinner with his mistress. When they left the restaurant and were waiting for the valet to pull the car around, two thugs with automatic weapons took him out in a drive-by shooting.”

“Do you have a description of the agent?”

The description closely matched the one Adriano had given for the man hiding in Payton's apartment. It took Jake two seconds to put the pieces together. Grazicky's FBI agent had failed in his job and was put down. He couldn't afford to have another witness running around.

“This ring your bell?” Ethan asked.

“Maybe.”

“I was working an angle, but my editor shut the story down after Sherman Grazicky made a visit to his office.”

“Why would Grazicky want to kill this story?” Jake asked, already knowing the answer but not knowing how much Ethan knew.

“It should've been news at eleven, but like I said, my editor killed the story. The police chased the gunmen. One got away, but the other was shot to death. He was a guard at Skye.”

“The police shot him?”

“They're not admitting to it. The officers on the scene say they never fired a shot, but the man was dead inside the car. The bullet was from a police-issue. Ballistics is pending. If they didn't shoot him, who did?”

“Who's the guard?” Jake jotted down the name and description, intending to ask Payton about him later.

Grazicky had to get rid of the FBI agent, and now he was gunned down in a drive-by outside a fancy restaurant. The guard from Skye was probably hired to do the job and then became too much of a liability to keep around. Or the guard knew too much and was dead before the drive-by took place. Either way, Jake smelled a setup.

Grazicky was closing his ranks.

Jake had to get his hands on Payton's planner before Grazicky did.

“If I get a lead, I'll give you a call.”

“What about that endorsement?” Ethan asked.

“Anytime. Contact me through the paper.” Jake disconnected before he said something to pique the reporter's deeper interest.

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, flipped it open. A wide smile spread across his face as he stared at the picture of his wife cuddling their little girl. His girls. The loves of his life. After the stint in Baghdad, he'd promised his wife he wouldn't take foolish risks. She worried about him when he was away on a story, all contact severed to maintain his focus and keep his liabilities hidden.

“Baby, if you knew everything Grazicky has done . . . What he's capable of—” He kissed the picture. “You'd want to help Payton put him away.”

He grabbed his jacket, a mini-flashlight, and other spyware he'd need, including a sleek metal piece that would make quick work of the locks on Payton's door. He made his way to the lobby, stopping at the front desk.

“Lock these in the hotel safe,” he told the manager. He handed the man a small canvas bag with his wallet and other identifying pieces of information. If he were caught, he had several aliases he could assume. He didn't want to lead Grazicky's thugs to his family. Or reveal his connections to the newspaper. Also inside the bag was a letter to his wife, written the day after he was married, telling her how much he loved her . . . in case he ever encountered a mission that took him away from her for good.

Finding Payton's apartment complex proved difficult. His unfamiliarity with Charlotte didn't help, but the apartment was tucked away at the end of a tangle of one-way streets and crossroads with the same name. How could he be on the corner of Peachtree and Peachtree? He was tenacious, determined to get to the planner, so he continued to drive until he found the address.

After parking the car a few buildings away, the first thing Jake did was unscrew the light bulb over her front door. He wasted no time picking the lock. He searched her place in the dark, checking for any intruders. Satisfied he was alone, he began searching for the planner. He started in the obvious place: the makeshift office in the second bedroom. Of course, Payton wasn't the normal club manager, and after an hour of looking he hadn't found the book.

Jake took a different approach, changing his thinking to that of a woman. More precisely, his wife. Where were her little hiding places she thought he knew nothing about? He knew every one and kept a constant vigil on each, maintaining an inventory of the hidden contents. Yes, he'd read every letter from old boyfriends she kept stashed underneath the stairs. She had four hundred and fifteen dollars tucked away in the toilet tank of their daughter's bathroom. He never challenged his wife about this behavior; he knew it stemmed from a tumultuous childhood, and if it made her feel better, he wouldn't disrupt it. But he wouldn't be a victim of surprise in his marriage or his home. Somehow he felt she knew he snooped, but she never confronted him. Despite their dysfunctional behaviors, they loved each other and their marriage was working, so why push it?

“Thanks, baby,” Jake whispered as he pulled away the floorboard in the front closet. He removed a fireproof safe, made to keep documents from burning and not theft. Breaking the lock was easier than getting through the front door.

He leafed through the contents of the safe and felt the same passing pang of guilt he felt when checking his wife's hiding places. With the same resolve, he pushed it away. There was a purpose here. He held the mini-flashlight between his lips as he flipped through family pictures, award certificates, and other trinkets. She kept her vehicle registration, insurance papers, and apartment lease here. He constructed a model of her life from these things. It struck him there were no love letters, pictures, or tiny stuffed animals from past lovers. Other than the aging family pictures, Payton appeared to have no personal life. Like Adriano, she'd made her work her life.

There were several appointment books and planners in the safe, dating a year back. No time to read them all—he'd spent too much time searching the apartment. He stuffed as much of the safe's contents inside his jacket as possible. He returned the safe to its hiding place, righted the closet's contents, and made his way out of the apartment.

He noticed the nondescript black car three miles away from Payton's apartment. If he turned off the main road, they would make their move, ambushing him. He had learned drive-bys were a favorite method of attack. He drove until he found the freeway, taking the first entrance. The car followed, maintaining a discreet distance.

A fine sheen of perspiration dotted his brow. He'd just popped up on Grazicky's radar, and the people who irritated Grazicky were ending up dead. If this had been his town, he would know the nearest safe house, informant, or connection to go to for help. He had an emergency route permanently mapped out in Chicago. He knew very few people here.

He thought of his wife and little girl, steeling his resolve. Adriano was in the field, depending on him. Payton was counting on them both. Society needed him most—to rid the streets of trash like Grazicky.

Charlotte Douglas International Airport
—the sign provided him with an immediate plan. He followed the signage, falling in line with the airport traffic. He parked the car illegally, but he couldn't chance being caught in the parking garage alone. The black car was several lengths behind, pretending not to watch him. He mixed into the crowd, following the flow to the ticket counter.

“Chicago, one way,” he told the ticket representative.

Chapter 14

Payton came awake slowly to a darkened room, her memory returning in tiny slivers. Her life unraveled in quick flashes of detail, culminating in the shower scene with Adriano. She was drowsy, her body a little battered, but all things considered she was feeling okay. She was in bed now, safe and warm, and not alone.

Adriano's front pressed firmly against her front, and his arms encircled her, holding her captive. Payton boldly assessed Adriano's shadowy profile. His attention was focused on the news broadcast's report on what had been christened “The Massacre at the Mark.” Why were they sharing a bed? He flipped the television remote over and over in his palm. He was a handsome man—very sexy. She wanted to press her lips to his fairy kiss. His silky hair flowed across the pillow, matching the thick bushes that made up his eyebrows. She wanted to slide one of her fingertips over the bushes, settling an overwhelming desire to touch him.

Why were they lying in bed together? He was supposed to sleep on the pallet. She remembered the shower pelting her naked body. Adriano had held her from behind, devastatingly nude.

Wrapped in his arms now, with him gently massaging her, her brain became attuned to every move he made—and her body liked it very much. She melted into his muscular chest. He smelled like the rain forest: fresh and woodsy and mysterious. He took her breath away.

“Are you awake?” Adriano lifted his palm to her forehead. The gesture seemed too familiar. During her impersonation of Sleeping Beauty, he had claimed the right to touch her. He propped himself on one elbow, looking down at her. He swept his mane over his shoulder. “Can you hear me, angel?”

“Why are we in bed together?” she asked, keeping her voice low to hide the tremulous effect he had on her.

Adriano's lashes flickered embarrassment. “You scared me. You had a fever,” he whispered. “You've been asleep for a day.”

“A day?” She questioned the bizarre possibility of it.

“Tom and Lila have been keeping a close eye on you.” He shifted, looping an arm over her hip. Tranquility wrapped her in the warm cocoon of his body. His long legs surpassed hers, rippling cords flexing against her thighs.

“Why are you holding me?”

“I couldn't keep my hands off you.” His voice mesmerized, and his words mixed with the cool night's breeze to carry her to new altitudes.

“How long have we been this way?”

“Angel,” he said, sexual frustration written in every syllable. “It doesn't matter.”

His hand came up to grip her shoulder, and he pulled her down onto her back. Shirtless, he was sinful temptation. Roughened around the edges, polished in all the right spots, he had a body meant to be a woman's dessert.

He cupped her cheek. “This is the absolute wrong thing to do.” He inched closer, nudging her nose with his.

“Why do it?”

“Do you think I can stop myself?” he answered, his lips brushing her cheek with each word. If possible, he moved closer, the nightgown separating them becoming intrusive.

“You don't have to do this to get my story.”

“No. I don't.” His thumb stroked her cheek, firmly and with purpose. He moved in, his fairy-kissed brow blurring her vision. He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, pulling away quickly. He watched her in the darkness. Nature sounds wafted through the partially opened window, transporting them to a different place. Every stroke of his thumb opened Payton's mind to new possibilities.

Her fingers danced over his silky hair. “You have beautiful hair.”

“My mother is half Indian.”

“What about your father?”

“My father is African-American. There is also Indian ancestry in his bloodline, but it's too far removed to matter.”

She tangled her fingers in the soft tendrils, sliding down to press against the nape of his neck.

“Can you stop yourself?” Adriano asked.

No, she couldn't. The first kiss hadn't been a fluke. His teasing near-miss tonight had only reignited her curiosity.

He dipped his head, and something inside her moved. He stilled one breath away from touching her lips, offering her the chance to stop what was next. Aroused beyond belief, she waited for his kiss. He gazed deeply into her eyes, offering a silent apology for how this would complicate things between them.

He started with a light kiss at the corner of her mouth, but it wasn't enough. She exhaled, her lungs emptying with a brief
whoosh.
She kissed him: soft, firm, and demanding. He kissed the opposite corner of her mouth, and it became hard to breathe. He planned to take his time with this kiss, to show her he'd meant what he said about the intimacy of it. He wet his lips before pressing them to hers. Her mouth opened at the feather-light stroke of his thumb, and he delved deeper at the invitation. He tightened his arms around her, and lifted, bringing her entire body into the kiss.

Her arms went around his neck, and he instantly grew hard. His erection pressed against her belly, insistent and needy. The supreme mastery of his mouth made her forget all her troubles. She unleashed her desire for him, and he reciprocated with the grinding of his hips. She chased his tongue with hers, tasting his passion. He ran his tongue across the enamel of her teeth before crushing their mouths together again. When he tried to pull away, she tightened her grip around his neck, and her fervor coaxed him to linger a moment longer.

Adriano gazed down at her as if in a trance. His fairy-kiss winked at her. While he absorbed her essence, silently gauging her reaction, they remained locked in each other's arms.

He licked his lips, preparing for another kiss.

She tightened her arms around his neck.

His mouth opened over hers in an explosion of pent-up passion. His tongue glided over her lips with carnal hunger. They kissed as if they were rekindling a lost love affair.

If possible, her kiss deepened, bringing with it raw emotions that surprised her. Her entire body responded to him. His hand found her thigh beneath the nightgown, and he wrapped her leg around his middle. She pressed forward, lodging his hardness snugly below her navel. A profound heat simmered at the indentation of her belly—the place of impact between her flesh and the tip of his arousal. The heat consumed her body, washing over her in a rush.

“We're horizontal,” Adriano said, leaving her mouth unattended for only a second.

And his erection was the size of the Sears Tower.

“Something nice could happen tonight.” His palm cupped her breast, offering a preview.

Against all common sense, she arched into his touch.

“I've been wanting to do this since I pinned you down in the backseat of the SUV.” He lifted his leg, ready to climb over her. A flash of light stopped him.

“Oh!” Lila said, her hand covering her eyes. “I didn't mean to—I wanted to check and see—Oh! I'm sorry.” The door closed quietly, the sliver of light disappearing and leaving them in enlightened darkness.

Adriano flopped onto his back, his breathing ragged. “Worse than your mother walking in on you.”

She couldn't argue.

His head tilted in her direction.

“We need to establish boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Adriano questioned. “Like one of us has to put a chair behind the door before we get into bed?” He hooked his thumb in the cleavage exposed by the dip of Payton's gown.

“This isn't a good idea.”

“What? Acting on what we're feeling?”

“Yes.”

“I know what you want me to do to you. I know what
I
want to do to you—
all night long.
”

She folded her arms and gave him her most intimidating glare, but he didn't back down.

“Admit it.”

“Sharing a bed isn't a good idea. You admit it.”

He lowered his voice to a seductive pitch. “Since the beginning, every time I see you, all I want is to pick you up, throw you on a bed, and lick every inch of your body until you beg me to make love to you.”

Payton swallowed—hard.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “But this is business. Getting involved puts us in jeopardy. It's not a smart thing to do,” he added, clearly trying to convince himself.

Still unable to speak, she nodded, looking away, but not before her eyes flickered with disappointment.

 

 

The morning came and went, but Jake never arrived. Adriano helped Tom perform minor repairs to the old barn behind the house while Payton worked in the kitchen with Lila. The scene was a little too
Green Acres
for him, but he would do anything he could to help the couple who were taking them in.

By lunch, his senses were on alert, carefully watching all movement in the tobacco fields. The migrant workers came, did their jobs, and left without ever stopping at the house. With so little contact with others, it was no wonder Tom and Lila were lonely.

“Let's go in for lunch,” Tom said, wiping the sweat from his brow with the arm of his shirt.

“Right behind you. I want to finish this patch first.”

“All right, but come in soon. The sun's hot.” The albino tucked his hat on his head and left the shed.

Being in the barn alone was the safest place on the farm for him right now. He lost all control when he was around Payton. He needed to reset, to remember his purpose and get his mind in check. Impossible words. Jake had always warned him about a time when his emotions would cause him to tumble and fall off the casual-relationship band wagon. This was the worst possible time for it to happen. But he wanted what he wanted, and he didn't know how to ignore it.

“Adriano?”

His body responded immediately to Payton's voice. He walked to the edge of the loft. “Up here.”

She looked up at him, her eyes a beacon for his heart. “I'm coming up.”

“Careful.” He kneeled, offering his hand as she climbed the ladder. He took the huge bowl she carried, setting it beside him. As soon as she came within reach, he lifted her the rest of the way. His camera hung around her neck. He was curious as to why she thought he needed it.

“I brought lunch,” she said, smiling with pride.

“And my camera.”

“Thought you might want to take pictures.”

“Are you offering to give another interview right now?” He knew she disliked talking about herself when the material was going to be used to open her life to the world's inspection.

“Not necessarily,” she answered, leaving him even more curious.

He found a comfortable spot and sat to inspect the contents of the giant bowl.

“What have you been doing all morning?”

“I stacked the hay, and now I'm patching the roof.” He removed the sandwiches, potato salad, and a jar of lemonade. “What have you been doing all morning?”

“Cooking.” She made a funny face. “Baking.”

“How's it working out?”

She shrugged. “I'm not much of a cook.”

He unwrapped the sandwich and took a big bite. “Good. Thank you.”

“Why do they have a barn?”

“It came with the place.”

She smiled.

“The horses are at a boarding stable until the barn's repaired. Two. His son left them behind when he moved across country.”

“Do you ride?”

“I belong to the Cheyenne River Sioux tribe,” he answered, reminding her of his heritage.

She smiled again, dropping down next to him. “I thought Jake would have come by now.”

“Yeah.” He took another bite of his sandwich.

“Do you think we should call him on the satellite phone?”

Adriano shook his head. As badly as he wanted to know Jake was safe, calling wouldn't be a good move. “If Jake hasn't come or called, it's for a good reason.”

“Do you think he's all right?” she asked, her voice tight.

“He's fine. Jake can handle himself. To contact us would put us in jeopardy and reveal where we are.”

“That's all?”

He touched her chin. “That's all. Don't worry. If it were anything else, Mr. Conners would find a way to let me know. Jake and I have done this more times than I can count. He'll come through when we need him. For now we'll lay low and be perfect farmhands.”

She smiled unconvincingly.

“What are you thinking?”

“A lot of people have died because of me already.”

“Really? Because of you? Or because you were brave enough to come forward and tell what you saw? You know, a lot of people would have run away. Or tried to profit from the information. I see it all the time.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Don't doubt you're doing the right thing.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested her chin on her knee. “Think you could spend your life here?”

“On a farm? No. There's a reason I don't live on the reservation. I'm a city boy.”

“Where are your parents?”

“My parents live on the reservation with my sister and brother. They enjoy it there.” He shook his head. “They're practicing Catholics. Doesn't quite fit in with tribal beliefs, but they make it work.”

“Diverse.”

“You could call it that, or other things.”

“How'd that happen?”

“My grandparents moved off the reservation and attempted to fit in. They became Catholic and raised my mother as one. When my parents were married, they moved to the reservation, but continued to practice.”

“What was it like, living on the reservation?”