Chill (17 page)

She could see for a hundred miles. Acres and acres of woods. The lake down below, cast into a golden glow by the sunset. Total freedom.

Everything her mother had ever wanted and never had. She’d come so close to her dream, and it had been jerked out from under her at the last second. Killing her.

Tears filled Isabella’s eyes. “Too late, Mama,” she whispered. “It came too late.”

“What did?” Luke began rubbing Isabella’s shoulders.

“God, that feels good.” She closed her eyes as his fingers dug into her back. He was staying away from her injury, but her body was so tense from trying to compensate for it, and from all the stress. It felt so incredible to have his thumbs working away at the knots in her shoulders.

“Figured it would.” He rubbed her neck. “Tell me about your mom.”

She tensed at his persistence. “I don’t want to talk about it.” If he knew the truth about her, she wasn’t sure he’d still come to Boston. Luke wanted those he
loved to be pure and perfect. If he couldn’t love his own father due to some shady dealings, how would he possibly stay with her if he knew the truth?

But a part of her wanted to be wrong. She wanted to tell him what she’d done and give him the chance to show he was more than she had initially believed. Maybe she should give him a chance. Maybe—

A faint roar made Luke stiffen, and she followed his gaze across the valley toward a small plane barely visible in the distance. “We need to go.” Luke caught her arm and hustled her back up toward the house.

Isabella hurried along beside him. “Do you recognize that plane?”

“Yeah, it belongs to a bush pilot named Titus Fector. He always flies this route. Shouldn’t be anything to worry about.” But Luke kept an assessing eye on the horizon as he unlocked the front door.

He shoved her inside, and she barely had time to gape at the magnificent interior of the not-so-rustic cabin with its panoramic windows and two-story ceiling with exposed beams, before Luke herded her toward the kitchen. “Get some food, then crash in the bedroom.” He looked at his watch. “It’ll take me a couple hours to get everything together, and you need to rest.”

The kitchen had granite counters and hand-carved wood cabinets. She loved its traditional clean lines. There was a thick rug on the wood floor, and she wanted to pull her shoes off and dig her toes into it.

The place felt like home, and she’d never been in such a cozy house. That felt so right.

It was the place of her dreams. A dream that had always been vague and fuzzy, unclear, because she’d never actually seen or experienced what it was she wanted. But this house, the way it made her feel, it resonated.
This was her dream. To feel this way. And now that she felt it, had found a building that made her feel like she was home, she knew that it existed. Really and truly.

Her dream could come true. Someday. Somehow. She would have this. And Luke, he was her enemy, and she could never trust him, but he was going back to Boston with her to help her. On this mission, for this moment, she wasn’t alone. On some levels, he was the personification of her dream as well: a wonderful, passionate, powerful man who could protect her and keep her safe, just because he wanted to. Not because she paid him or had some other leverage over him.

Luke was helping because he’d decided he wanted to, and she knew nothing would shake him.

Her throat tightened, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

“Isa.” Luke caught her arm and turned her toward him. “Are you listening? You need to catch some sleep. Do you understand?”

She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

His gripped her waist with his hands, and his eyes went dark and stormy. “For what?”

“For showing me your house. For going back to Boston with me to save Marcus.”

Luke’s face became grim. “Isa, I’m not going back to save—”

She kissed him.

She didn’t want him to ruin the moment with some negative talk about his father. She wanted to engrave the feel of it into her cells so she could re-create it, so she could pull the memory out in the future when life got tough, as a reminder that she had once felt this way and she could feel it again.

Luke fisted the back of her hair and took over the kiss almost instantly. His kiss was ravenous, as if he’d been stalking her, waiting for the moment to attack. His tongue plunged between her lips, a hot, wet probing that made chills shoot down her spine. He grabbed her hips and in one motion, hoisted her up and forced her legs around his waist, never letting up the assault on her mouth.

It felt so good to be against his hard body and to be held in his arms. He was strong, he was hot, and his kiss was so demanding, as if he couldn’t live another minute without her. The way he held her and kissed her made her feel wanted and beautiful. Sexy.

He kicked open a door, and she opened her eyes as he carried her into a bedroom. Against the right wall was a huge king bed with a light maroon comforter. The walls were soft beige, the ceiling raw wood, and windows stretched along two full sides of the room.
Scenic paintings decorated the walls, and big, comfy throw pillows filled half the bed.

The bed was lived in, loved and personal. It looked like a bed that had been chosen because it made him happy, not because it would be impressive when
Architectural Digest
did a story on the house.

The room was probably completely different from the one in which Luke had grown up.

She remembered the story of his mother’s death, and her heart tightened. Like her, Luke had never had a home. He’d created one here for himself. She might hate the way he judged his own father and the fact that his love was conditional, but at the same time…they were the same. At their hearts, at their cores.

He might, just might, understand her and what she’d done. She framed his face with her hands as he carried her across the room. She wanted him to know the truth about her. “Luke—”

He kissed her again. The kiss was so intense, so passionate, filled with such fire she forgot what she was going to say and got lost in the emotions rushing through her. She felt the mattress beneath her back, and then she was tossed into the pile of the pillows. She had no time to sink between them before Luke was on her. His weight pinned her to the bed, his kiss teased down the side of her neck, and his hands caressed her waist.

Excitement pulsed through her, and she threw her hands around his neck and pulled him toward her as she kissed him back, desperate to get closer. She wanted to bury herself in the gift he gave her: the sensation of being safe, of being home, of being protected.

Luke was going to Boston.

He hated Marcus, and yet he was going for her.

“Luke.” She arched her back as he tugged her shirt out of the waistband of her jeans, and then gasped when he kissed her bare stomach. The kiss was so tender and passionate, but it was also aggressive and dominant, exactly how Luke was.

She ran her fingers through his hair and he kissed his way up her body to her bra, and then he caught the waistband of her shirt and lifted. “Sit up, hon. I don’t want to hurt your shoulder.”

She did as he instructed, startled by the intense passion on his face. He didn’t take his eyes off hers as he pulled her sweatshirt off, but he was so gentle as he guided her injured arm through it that she almost felt like crying. He was intense, he was passionate, and he was also tender. Gentle. Caring.

Everything she wanted. Everything she’d craved.

Except he would leave her if he knew the truth about her.

Her stomach turned and she pulled back. “No, Luke, I can’t—”

He kissed her again, and this time it was pure tenderness. Deliberate. Seductive. A kiss that made her feel like a treasured lover, like a best friend. It was how she’d always wanted to be kissed. She didn’t want it to end. She couldn’t bring herself to walk away.

Maybe there was a way it could work between them. Maybe Luke could be healed. Saved. Maybe he would kiss her like this forever, not just once. Maybe—

He cupped her breast, and Isabella gasped with pleasure. God, she wanted it. She wanted him to touch her. To kiss her. To make her a part of this amazing house. To bring her into his pain, pain she shared and understood. She could help him. He could help her.

And he could destroy her as well. If she let herself
care, if she trusted him too much. If she forgot that he believed love should be conditional…She wasn’t perfect. He wouldn’t be able to cope with her past. “Luke!” She caught his head as he began kissing his way down her belly. “Stop!”

He looked up at her, but his hands kept working on the fly on her jeans. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not the woman you think I am.”

He raised one eyebrow at her as he unzipped her jeans. “How do you know?”

“I—” She caught her breath as he began to tug her jeans down her hips, following the path of her pants with his mouth. A kiss over her belly. Another kiss lower. And lower. And then on her inner thigh. He had such intense passion on his face, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. She couldn’t force herself to blacken her image in his eyes. She didn’t want him to look at her with revulsion. To—

“I think you’re courageous.” He pulled her jeans over her feet, and then ripped off his shirt. “I think you’re a survivor.” He unbuttoned his fly and began to slide his jeans over his hips. Slowly. “I think you love unconditionally, and that’s pretty fucking incredible.”

She stared at the expanse of skin he was revealing. Dark hair, narrowing to a V, and then…He was erect. Ready. Wanting her.

“It’s naive, and it drives me nuts that you love Marcus.” He moved over her, a deliberate tease, giving her the chance to stop him.

She couldn’t do it.

All she could do was watch in nervous anticipation as he moved between her legs. He lowered his hips between her calves and wrapped his arms around her thighs. He kissed the tuft of hair at the top of her cleft.
“I think you overestimate your ability to deal with the people after you, which could get you killed. That annoys the hell out of me.” He kissed lower, and her body clenched. “I think you try to be so tough.”

His tongue swept between the folds, and she closed her eyes. Dear God, it felt so amazing. “I’m not tough,” she whispered. “I’m scared all the time. Scared of losing everything that matters to me.”

“Which makes all you do that much more amazing.” He kissed her again, and her whole body shuddered as his words resonated in her. He thought she was courageous. Tough. Beautiful. And he recognized her need to love. And thought it was incredible.

This man…he was broken. But not irrecoverably. There was so much good stuff beneath the surface, beneath the pain…

He upped his assault. God, she wanted him. Wanted this man to be inside her. Now. To feel close to him. To reach him. To bring him closer to her heart and her soul. It was foolish, but she didn’t care. She needed him. She needed what he gave her. And this was her moment. “Make love to me, Luke. Please.”

He shifted position, kissing his way up her body as he wedged his hips between her thighs. He nudged at her entrance, and she was filled with the need for him to be inside her. To connect with him. To turn the bond she felt with him into something physical.

He kissed her lightly and moved his hips. Teasing. Nudging. “Are you sure?” His voice was tight with the effort of restraint, and tendons were taut in his neck. He moved his hips again, pressing a little deeper. “You say yes, and I’m going to take you at your word.”

She knew the answer. She was utterly committed to wanting him in whatever way she could have him. He
filled that void in her heart she’d been struggling to fill her whole life. Luke had the home, he was strong, he could protect her and she wanted him.

The future didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. She had to take what she could get.

His hips began to move faster. Press a little harder. “Isa?”

She met his intense gaze and trailed her finger over the tense set of his jaw. “Yes,” she whispered. “I want you to make love to me.”

“
Isa.
” He whispered her name so reverently she felt like a goddess to whom he was paying homage, and then he kissed her. A hot, passionate kiss that shattered all her restraints. She was suddenly desperate for more, to kiss him deeper and—

He plunged deep inside her, and she gasped at the sensation of him entering her, of her body adjusting to fit his, of them coming together in the way that bound a man and a woman forever.

“Jesus, Isa.” He caught her face as he withdrew and sank deeper again. “You feel amazing.”

Her heart tightened at the raw passion in his voice, and then he was kissing her again, and she was swept up in the sensations rushing through her. His weight pressing her to the bed was erotic and sexy, not a threat. Her skin felt like it was on fire, radiating heat, so sensitive to every touch as he kissed her, touched her, drove deeper and deeper, again and again, until her whole body was shaking and trembling, until she couldn’t think of anything but him, couldn’t feel anything but his body against hers, inside hers, until the pressure built inside her so much she felt like her skin was going to explode and—

“Let it go, hon. Just melt into me.” Luke’s husky
whisper went right to her core, and her whole body went rigid as the orgasm shot through her.

Luke drove deep and then let out a shout. His body vibrated and his muscles went utterly taut as he buried his face in her neck, his body convulsing against hers. She clung to him as the orgasms rolled through them both, together. He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tightly she could barely breathe, his body still convulsing as he whispered her name again and again against her skin.

It wasn’t until they were both still that her tears began to fall.

Luke didn’t want to ever let Isabella go.

Ever.

Her body felt so right beneath him, and he couldn’t bring himself to loosen his grip on her. Making love to her had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Even being with Anna hadn’t been this intense. And since Anna, he hadn’t let himself care about anyone he’d been with. He hadn’t been able to afford to.

But Isabella had gotten under his skin. He pulled back to look at her face. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. He swore. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head once, and laid her hand over his jaw. It was such a tender gesture, and he pressed his face into her touch. “I need to know something.”

He raised his brows. “Sure.”

She brushed her thumb over his whiskers. “Why did you leave Marcus?”

Luke stiffened. “I told you. My mom—”

“No.” She shook her head. “That happened when you were eight, but you didn’t leave until you were thirty. Why did you finally leave? What happened?” She caught his face. “I need to know exactly what it is about Marcus that you can’t forgive.”

With a groan, he rolled onto his side and pulled her
up against him. She snuggled into him, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling of skin to skin…but at the same time he kept listening for the sound of approaching planes.

Not that he thought there was a chance they’d be found, but he was keeping alert. He’d give himself five more minutes to enjoy Isabella, and then he’d get up. It simply felt too good to have her skin against his, to feel the heat of her body, the softness of her hair…“After the incident with my mom, Marcus brought me back and kept me tight by his side. Before her death, he kept me out of his business, but afterward, he sucked me in as much as he could. He taught me to shoot within three months, sent me on missions, taught me about the business.”

Isabella began tracing circles on his chest, and he concentrated on that sensation, making sure to keep his emotions partitioned from the story he was telling. “His business became somewhat less violent after my mom’s death, but it was still heading in that direction. His ethics were questionable at best, and I wanted out. I cut bait after college and I figured if I got a PhD, I’d be able to have my own career and ditch him.”

“But he co-opted your degree for his purposes.”

“Yeah.” Luke lifted a lock of Isabella’s hair and rubbed it across his cheek. “So damn soft,” he murmured.

Isabella scooted on top of him and propped herself up on his chest with her elbows. “Then what?” Her face was intense, her voice demanding. He could read her desperation for answers in the determined set of her body.

“Then I met Anna.”

She blinked in surprise. “Who?”

Luke tucked Isabella’s hair behind her ears. “She was a fellow grad student. Brilliant. From a good family. Her dad was a college professor and her mom was a minister. A minister. I loved that. Freaking loved the fact they said grace every night and that no one in the family would consider killing a business partner who tried to screw them.”

Isabella’s lips tightened. “She was the antithesis of your life. An immaculately clean existence and background. No skeletons in her closet, I assume?”

“Anna had never uttered a curse word in her whole life, let alone killed anyone. I think her purity was part of why I was so attracted to her.” Isabella tensed, and he squeezed her more tightly against him. “Anna and I started to date, and it got serious.” He kept tunneling his fingers through her hair, needing the touch of her body to stay in the present. “We got engaged.”

“Did you love her?” Isabella’s voice was tight.

Luke shrugged. “I loved what she represented at least. I dated her for three years before I finally asked her to marry me. When she said yes, I finally told Marcus about her. I’d worked hard to keep Anna under the radar, and I’d succeeded. Marcus was furious when I told him.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice at the memory of how Marcus had lit into him when he’d come into his office, riding the high of the new engagement. “The bastard couldn’t afford to share me.”

Isabella cocked her head and gave him a thoughtful look. “Did it occur to you that maybe he was angry because loving your mother had gotten her killed, and he was afraid the same thing would happen to you? Maybe he was trying to protect you and Anna.”

Her comment made Luke freeze for a second. Was
she right? Then he thought of the man Marcus had been, and he dismissed it. “Marcus wasn’t that sensitive.”

“But—”

“Two days later,” he continued, “I got a request from my father to go to South America to retrieve the earrings that went with the necklace you stole. I refused. He said if I didn’t go, Anna would get hurt.”

Isabella frowned. “He threatened her?”

“Sure did.”

“What did you do?”

“When Anna found a photo of my mother in her locker at the gym, I realized it was my dad’s way of saying he could get to her anywhere. So I went.” The same anger began to fester inside him again. “He gave me three days, but I took my time, just to piss him off. On my way back after a week, I got a call from Anna’s father.” He worked his jaw, feeling that same fury and disbelief that had nearly destroyed him eight years ago. “She’d been critically wounded in a hit and run while she was jogging.”

Isabella stiffened. “Dear God.”

“She died two days after I got to the hospital.” He felt a raw satisfaction in the shock he saw in Isabella’s face. Maybe now, she would understand. “It was my punishment for taking too long.” He worked his jaw. “I sat through her funeral and watched them bury a beautiful young woman who had done nothing but fall in love with the wrong man. Afterward, I drove to Marcus’s house. I walked in there with a gun. I was planning to kill him and Leon. To end it all. Nate was with me, and we were going to do it together.”

“Oh, Luke.” She set her hand on his arm.

“The place was empty. No one to shoot.” His body was trembling now with that same fury and betrayal.
Seeing Anna in the coffin had made something inside him snap. “Nate and I sat there all night waiting for someone to come home, pounding back Marcus’s finest scotch. When the door to his office finally opened in the morning, I shot right through the wood. I didn’t even give a shit who was on the other side of the door. Anyone involved with Marcus deserved to die.”

Isabella sat up, her hand over her heart. “Who was it?”

Luke fisted his hands to keep from pulling Isabella back toward him. If she wanted to go, he would let her. “It was the interior decorator dropping off samples on her way to the gym. My bullet hit her in the chest, two inches from her heart.”

Isabella’s jaw dropped. “Dear God, Luke!”

“As I stood there, in my half-drunk state, watching her clasp her chest and fall to the floor, everything came crashing down on me. I realized what I’d become, that I was willing to trade a life for a life, that I’d turned into a man who would murder in cold blood.” He stared at the ceiling, remembering the sensation of the world crushing down on him, unwilling to see the recrimination on Isabella’s face. “So, I hid the earrings and I walked out. I was done with that life, and I was getting out before Marcus could wreck me and use me to destroy others.”

Isabella was still staring at him as if he were a freak. “What about the woman? Did you even stay to see if she was all right?”

“Fuck, Isabella, of course I did. She recovered just fine, and Marcus paid her a fortune for her troubles. She quit her job and now splits her time between her flat in Paris and her mansion in the Florida Keys.” He knew, because he’d tracked her for years. It wasn’t until
he’d read she’d married some rich entrepreneur and had two kids that he’d finally allowed himself to accept she was okay. That he hadn’t stolen her life from her.

“Oh.” Isabella sank back down onto the bed. “Wow.” To his surprise, she snuggled up against his side, as if he hadn’t just told her he’d shot a woman in cold blood. “I understand now,” she said quietly. “You had to leave.”

“Yeah.” He shuddered as she set her hand on his chest and gently stroked him. He hadn’t been expecting Isabella to reach out to him after his story, but he should have. He’d never met anyone who stuck so firmly to those she had decided to believe in. He wrapped his arm around her and hugged her close, pressing his lips to her forehead.
Thank you, Isa.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel dirty. Isabella made him feel like he had a chance to cleanse the rot from his soul. He rubbed her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger and rested his cheek against her hair. “Once I got out, I swore I would never aim a gun at another living soul again,” he said quietly. “I also promised myself I would never get in a position where I could be manipulated again, and I would never endanger anyone by letting them get close to me.”

She propped herself up so she could see him. Her brow was furrowed with understanding. “But then your friendship with Cort got him shot.”

“Yeah. I can’t do this again.” He framed her face and pulled her down so he could kiss her. “You will stay safe, Isa. I swear it. The cycle breaks now.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Luke,” she whispered. “I didn’t understand why you left.”

“I know.”

She touched his jaw, a brush so gentle and tender he
wanted to grab her wrist and never let her go. “I didn’t know how you suffered,” she said. “I had no concept of how going back there will make you suffer.”

“Fuck that.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “It’s long overdue. I’m ready to end it.”

She shook her head. “Before you go back there for me, I need to tell you something.”

“No, hon.” He held her gaze. “I’m going back for me. Keeping you alive is an added bonus. Nothing you could say is going to change my mind.”

She put her hands on his wrists. “I have to tell you something.”

He raised his brows at the urgency of her tone. “Okay.”

“I killed a man.”