All the Way (14 page)

Knowing what he'd done—whom he'd ordered killed—he picked up the phone and made the call to start his contingency plan rolling. He'd been thoroughly educated in prison. He had learned the art of money-laundering in prison, right after he learned everything he needed to know to build a thriving drug trade. Some of his ex-con buddies were his best customers. His money was invested in businesses all over the state, giving him the perfect cover for the income he generated. His accountant understood the intricacies of the global financial markets, depositing large sums of Sherman's cash in countries with bank-secrecy laws. It was possible to anonymously deposit dirty money in another country, where it waited for him to use it. He called his broker and began the liquidation process. With that in place, he analyzed his next move.

Hiram hadn't told Cecily anything. If she knew . . . he would be dead already.

Hiram was sleeping with Cecily.
Sherman was sharing his wife with the help.

Sherman noticed the trembling of his hands when he poured himself a drink. He'd been in worse situations than this. Well, maybe not, but he wasn't the average criminal. He possessed the common sense most didn't.

What needed to be done?
Systematically analyze this,
he told himself.

Staying alive was first on the list. Cecily didn't know what he'd done, but Hiram did and he was her bed buddy. He couldn't leave town without his cash. He would wedge himself between Hiram and Cecily, sticking close to her until this was over and he could make his escape. Cecily was as fascinated with Payton as he was. He'd use her newly uncovered sexual deviance to keep her preoccupied with Payton. They'd experimented in their marriage before. When she returned home, he would take her back to those days.

Staying out of prison was priority number two. Hiram thought he'd bought himself some protection by winning Cecily's favor, but Sherman knew better. Cecily could be ruthless. If Hiram failed to retrieve Payton, he'd be dead. Cecily wouldn't give him the endless chances Sherman had given him. That would temporarily hold Hiram in line, but Sherman would keep an eye on him. He'd get people in place to take Hiram out the moment he started looking shaky.

Destroying the evidence against him was paramount to avoiding prison. He would not go back to that hellhole. He had to take Payton out of the picture. She knew too much. Sherman downed his drink, letting the liquid burn his throat as punishment for his stupidity. Annihilating Payton wouldn't do. His illogical hunger for her hadn't been squelched in all that had happened. If anything, he wanted her more, needing to conquer her to save his manhood.

Cecily wanted her.

He wanted her.

Could he use her before he made his getaway? Did he have the time? The temptation was too much to resist. If he said the right thing . . . touched her the right way . . . maybe she'd leave with him. He could force her along. He'd heard about hostages falling in love with their captors. As he waded through the crap of his life, Payton remained the only good thing in it, and to preserve his sanity, he needed her with him.

Chapter 16

Adriano was a decadent indulgence, and, like any dieter, Payton couldn't stop herself from binging. She crossed the yard, heading to the loft where they'd met at midday for lunch the past three days. She watched a shirtless Adriano riding Tom's son's horse toward the barn, the long tendrils of his hair trailing behind him. His hard work had gotten the barn ready for the return of the two animals much sooner than expected. His skin glistened golden with red undertones. He glanced in her direction, doing a double take when he saw her. She saw the flash of his smile across the distance, her body warming at his anticipation.

She climbed into the loft, knowing he would be waiting for her there. He would question her most of the time they were alone, delving for any information she knew about Sherman. But sometimes he asked about her, focusing on her hopes and dreams for the future. She liked those times best, when he was completely centered on her wants and needs. He had the power to make her forget the trauma associated with why they were there, replacing it with honest affection. She allowed herself this time to pack away her guilt and enjoy their time together without regret. It energized her, strengthening her for the fight ahead.

“Let me interview you for a change,” she said, pinching off a corner of the fried chicken leg.

“Shoot.”

He told her about his family and his upbringing. He demystified the history of his people. He spoke of the hardships still inflicting those remaining on the reservation. He gave her goose bumps when he became heated, outraged at the current political climate.

“You're more diverse than I believed,” she complimented him.

“Thought I was a shallow playboy?”

She smiled, not bothering to deny her initial assessment of his personality. “Why did you go along?”

He raised his fairy-kissed eyebrow.

“You knew I didn't have a weapon when I jumped into the SUV. Why did you drive off?”

He watched her for a long time, clearly deciding whether or not to feed her a smart-aleck line. His eyes danced with the truth, always sparkling with hope and promise no matter the situation.

“Well?” she prompted.

“If I hadn't gone along, we wouldn't be here now.”

She let it go at that. She didn't question where they were, or what they meant to each other. At that moment he made her feel like the luckiest woman on earth. She had been forced to abandon her life, but could the circumstances be any better? She was tucked away on a quiet farm with a gorgeous, intelligent, dangerously sexy man who never let her forget through subtle touches and quick quips he was attracted to her.

They became the free labor Tom and Lila needed on the financially challenged farm. They grew into the kids the couple wished still resided at home. Their kindness didn't feel forced. They never pried into why the young couple had needed covert shelter. They incorporated them into the family, welcoming them with every action.

Payton and Adriano continued to meet in the loft of the barn every day, lavishing in their time together but never letting the seriousness of the situation go unrecognized. Almost a week had passed since they'd last spoken to Jake. Adriano was worried. Payton could see it in his eyes every night when they climbed into bed together. He toyed with calling Jake but knew the silence was purposeful and doing anything blindly was too dangerous. Payton tried to comfort him, reminding him of the stories he'd shared with her of their dangerous adventures. He appreciated her efforts, but she felt the tension in his body as he platonically shared their bed, careful not to impose his needs on her.

 

 

Days later, Payton went looking for Adriano at lunch as usual, but he wasn't there. Fright immediately gripped her. He would never leave her. Not of his own choice. If Sherman had figured out where they were . . .

She climbed down from the loft, leaving the lunch behind. Adriano had become a staple in her life, and his absence felt obscene. She raced to the house, her thoughts running rampant. She'd seen what Sherman could do. He would force Adriano to tell him where she was hiding, but Adriano wouldn't give in. He had too much honor. He'd die first. The realization propelled her to burst through the back door of the house. She ignored Tom and Lila's surprise when they jumped up from the kitchen table. She didn't answer Tom's call. Instead, she rushed up the stairs, taking two at a time.

“Angel?” Adriano questioned when she rocketed into the room. He was draped across the bed but sat up and moved to the edge when he saw her. He looked ready to jump up and grab her, but the fear on her face stopped him cold. He spoke calmly, as she'd seen him do with the horses when they were in a skittish mood. “What's wrong?”

She stood in the doorway, her chest heaving from the run, anger, and panic. “You weren't in the loft.”

“I wanted to try Jake.” He indicated the satellite phone. “It's been too long,” he explained.

Standing in the middle of the floor, worked up into a froth, she realized how much Adriano had come to mean to her. Not finding him where she expected him to be had sent her over the edge. In all that had happened, she'd never lost her cool, openly exposing her emotions and showing her weakness. At the height of her terror she remained in control until it was safe to let go. Her actions now were shocking, raw and unrestrained. Massive confusion flooded her brain. She couldn't make sense of what she was feeling. She only understood it was too potent to ignore any longer.

Adriano stood and eased up to her. “Why are you so upset?” He was on full alert now, reading her hypersensitivity and misinterpreting it to have something to do with the danger they were in. He stepped up to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Something has happened.”

“Yes,” she said, inhaling deeply to catch her breath.

“Is everything okay?” Tom asked.

Payton didn't turn to face him. Her gaze was locked on Adriano, trying to make short work of figuring out when she'd fallen for him.

“We're fine,” Adriano answered. He moved to close the door, assuring Tom there was no problem. “We need a minute.”

The door shut with a soft click.

Payton turned to him.

“What's going on?” Adriano asked.

“I don't know.”

He calmly extracted the information he needed. “You said something has happened.”

“It has.”

“Tell me.”

She approached him, coming so close she needed to tilt her head back to look up at him. “I thought you were gone.”

Understanding moved over his handsome features. There was something in those dancing eyes that told her he'd been waiting for her to catch up with him. Everything was on the surface, bouncing between them with kinetic energy. Someone had to make a move—step away, or step out. One of them had to be the voice of reason.

Before Payton could rein in the wild emotions, Adriano buried his nose in the hollow of her throat and inhaled deeply, pulling her body into his.

“Not going anywhere without you,” he told her.

“What are we doing?”

“I don't know.” He used his finger to lift her chin. “But it feels natural. Right.”

“We should stop.”

“Too late.” He wrapped her in his arms.

She allowed herself a second of his comfort, but fought it. No matter how sensual or smart or great Adriano was, enough people had been hurt because of her. She swatted his hands away. “Stop it.”

His eyes narrowed. He didn't like being forbidden. “You stop it.” He captured her wrists with lightning speed, spinning her until she was pinned between his body and the door. “Stop pretending like you don't want me. Not after you came running in here all sexy and frazzled because you thought I was gone.”

She stood immobilized, excited but uneasy about what would happen next . . . where it would take them.

He dropped to his knees, keeping his eyes on hers every inch of the way. He tugged the pullover from the hem of her shorts and buried his nose in her navel. Her limbs went numb, and a warm shiver moved through the personal parts of her body. He inhaled deeply, holding his breath for an impossibly long time.

Payton pictured it all: him on top of her, sinking his member into her wetness, driving her crazy. He made her want to experiment with dirty things. Her imagination ran wild, willing him to take her further than she'd ever gone with a man. She could tell by the way he handled her body he could show her things her mind couldn't formulate. He was a sensual, sexual giant compared to her narrow experience. She had obsessed about this moment since their first kiss. He'd turned her into some sort of sexual addict, hooking her on the potency of his physique. All he had to do was enter the same room and her reasoning became distorted, her mind unfocused. Adriano was more dangerous than she'd realized.

Maybe she would dominate him. Push him back on the bed and make him succumb to her needs. She'd be in control, able to take advantage of his body. She'd cater to him through her authoritative acts, and she would liberate his mind in return. He could be her playground. Touching, kissing, pinching the areas she wanted to rule. How much would he let her do before his ruling nature resurfaced and he took charge? She'd never had these thoughts before, been so turned on by a man's body that she wanted to own it, command it, take control of it.

Her knees buckled, and she wasn't sure she could support her own weight. Adriano's possessive stance rushed at her, flushing her with desire. Most women fantasized about firemen or soldiers—Payton's new number-one fantasy involved the Indian kneeling in front of her on the floor. The heat swirling around them made her lightheaded. She squeezed her lids together, shielding her eyes from the bright explosion of his emotions. His tongue flickered against her navel, and she was never happier she had an outie. Her legs gave way, and she began to slip down against the door.

Adriano clutched her waist and pinned her against the wood. “Payton?”

She forced her eyes open, afraid of what she might see but curious about what would be revealed.

He looked up at her, beckoning. “Do you want me?”

“This has gone too far.” Her breathy reply would never convince him of the truth buried in her declaration.

“Kissing you isn't enough anymore.”

His speedy hands released her hips and grasped her behind. His fingers danced to her zipper, unbuttoning and unzipping until she was too near exposure. He placed his forehead against her belly, and her fingers loosened the fastening at the nape of his neck. She combed his locks free as he shimmied her shorts down her legs. He slipped his fingers into the seam of her panties and pulled the fabric to the side. His nose pressed into the flesh of her mound, turning his head right and left until he penetrated the slick folds of her vagina. Unable to hold back any longer, his head moved aggressively, with animalistic wildness.

His hands led him back up her body. He used his chest to press her against the door. “You do want me. I smell it all over you.”

Not being in charge of the situation or her emotions threw Payton off-kilter.

“Your body is responding to my touch. Desire. Heat. I smell it all, and it's good, so stop lying. You want me.”

She watched the feral prowess behind his eyes. Like Adriano, she had lost direction over her emotions. Neither had command over what they were feeling or doing. Her body wasn't hers anymore. It was doing its own thing. She had never been wetter in her life, and it was all because of Adriano's thorough handling. Her nipples were sensitive to the point of pain as they strained against his chest, and she liked the pleasure of it.

Adriano's tongue caressed his bottom lip, teasing her, and he said “I want you” before a rainbow of emotions so bright it threatened to burn her corneas exploded outward from his body. She tried to shield her eyes, but he captured her hands. She tried to turn away, but he forced her head back to look at him.

“Let me go.”

“Make love to me.” There were no shades of doubt, no questioning of reasoning in his voice. He wanted what he wanted.

Before she could contemplate an answer, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. In contrast to his touch so far, he laid her down with the gentleness of a lion carrying its cub. He gave her a feather-light kiss, pulling back to gauge her reaction before devouring her mouth.

All rational thought fled for cover. Payton flung her arms around Adriano's neck, pulling him to her. Their tongues fought for dominance. She pawed at his shirt, slipping it, between kisses, over his head. She felt him grow hard against the length of her thigh and decided she wouldn't analyze the situation. She would go with what her body needed. This wild abandon was so unlike her, which was an aphrodisiac in itself. With no consideration of the consequences, she cupped the crotch of his pants, testing the weight and heft of him in her palm. She opened the clasp, lowering the zipper in heated anticipation of what she would find.

Completely naked, Adriano pounced on her with unchecked recklessness. The pullover and black bikini underwear came off with one tug.

“Thank God you never wear a bra.” He dove into her chest, his massive hands easily palming her breasts. Using his thumbs to bring her nipples to life, he fed from her until he could taste the sweet cream their children would someday enjoy. He stopped only when a heady aroma floated to him, telling him it was time to enjoy the vanilla dripping between her thighs.

She arched her back while he inhaled her deeply.

“You smell like vanilla when you get hot,” he said. His tongue parted her and searched for her core, easily finding the swollen nub.