In the Shadow of Vengeance (15 page)

Noah circled her waist and drew her back against his chest. She should pull away. Everything in her cried out to reinforce her walls. Easing them for even a short time would cost her more than she could handle later. But this man was becoming her opposite pole, her positive. And each time she let him in, their connection intensified.

“Elizabeth, just tell me all of it from the beginning.”

“I can't. I have never told anyone.”

“I'm not anyone. Trust me.”

Were there two more devastating words on the planet than
trust me
? She could survive the attacks and live with the threats. Time had stitched her back together after the last man she'd trusted ripped her life apart. But she wasn't strong enough to resist the allure of those two words. She bit the inside of her cheek once and took the plunge.

His arms cradled her gently, but as she progressed through the story, the muscles in his stomach and shoulders grew hard. By the time she got to the tornado, his breathing changed and she could feel each heartbeat against her back.

The dead silence that followed the end of the story began to grate on Elizabeth's nerves. She shifted so she could face him. His expression shocked her to the core.

Noah's bright, cobalt blue eyes turned almost black. His jaw was so tight, the nerve at his neck appeared as if it could burst through the skin.

She cupped his cheek and traced her thumb over the vein. “It was a long time ago, Noah. I'm not that foolish, naïve kid anymore.”

His expression hardened another notch. “Don't you dare blame yourself for that fucking bastard's sins. It will piss me off.”

She couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her throat. “I think you're already there.”

He took in a breath, then another. “What happened once you spoke to the FBI?”

“They sent a team to the outpatient clinic and found the body. The surgical team was arrested. Spencer's car was located in a cornfield about a half mile away with the body of the man eventually identified as Victor De Rousse.”

“And your husband's body was never found.”

“There were no traces of his blood in the sports car. The FBI assumed he was picked up by the tornado. His body could have been torn to pieces and dropped anywhere. He was about four yards behind me when I crawled into the storm drain.”

“If this guy is dead, then who placed a hit on you?”

Elizabeth lowered her eyes. “Have you ever heard the name De Rousse?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“The De Rousse family is like Mendoza. They travel in the best circles while performing unthinkable acts in the darkest corners of their empire. They want revenge against me because they blame me for their son's death. He was the prince, and I took him from them.”

She never understood the De Rousses' warped reasoning and almost laughed herself silly when she was told why the price was set so high.

“Every bastard around the world with a gun in his hand is after me because I lived through a tornado and their son didn't. After Danny was taken, the marshals went through Mendoza's file with a fine-toothed comb, but they never found any connection that would tie De Rousse with Mendoza. Hence, why they didn't relocate us three years ago.”

“I have the damn file memorized and that name was never mentioned by any of the associates we have picked up since Mendoza's arrest.”

“So maybe it's not Mendoza at all. The De Rousse family finally found me.”

“How do you explain Evan Nash?”

She gave Noah her best glare. “I hope you don't expect me to answer that question. He's your family ghost. Ask him.”

“Hell no!”

She couldn't help laughing at the look of pure shock in his eyes. Then his features softened and their gazes held. In the movies, the couple that glared at one another one moment was naked on the sofa the next.

She broke their connection, pulled away from him, and rose. Picking up the dinner plates, she moved into the kitchen. She needed distance before she did something she would regret for a long time.

She scraped the food into the trash and ran a tub of soapy water. Just as she dipped the plates into the suds, Noah's sexy-as-hell herbal scent wafted over her. He stood directly behind her with his hands resting on her hips.

“Elizabeth, what just happened?” His breath caressed the back of her neck.

“Nothing. It's late and the kids will be here in the morning.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“What part of what I said isn't true?”

“That's not why you skirted into the kitchen like a scared rabbit.” His head lowered and his lips touched the tender skin just below her right ear. “Why did you pull away?”

“Okay, truth. I didn't want you to kiss me again.”

“But I love kissing you, and you don't seem to mind it either.”

Elizabeth rinsed her hands and turned as she dried them on a kitchen towel. She placed both hands on his chest, gave him a shove, and edged around him. “You do understand that it doesn't really matter if it's Mendoza or De Rousse after me? I'm still leaving.”

“Not if we stop both of them.”

“Don't you think if the FBI and the U.S. Marshals could have arrested the De Rousses, they would have by now? We've been playing this hiding game for years. People died trying to protect me. Don't you get that?”

The damn stubborn, pigheaded man.
She stormed around the island toward the front of the house.

Noah blocked the kitchen entrance. “Stop a minute, damn it. We have to talk about this.”

She tried to shove by him, but he didn't budge. “Move!”

“No.” He stepped closer.

Elizabeth wasn't a petite woman, but in a span of a couple of minutes, Noah seemed to have grown taller, wider. There was no way she was going to get past him unless he allowed it.

He wasn't the first wall she had encountered, but for some reason, he was the one that cracked the dam around her emotions wide open. Long streams of tears began to fall. Derek had warned her time and again that it wasn't healthy to keep everything so bottled up inside. She had been fine until this damn man stuck his nose into her world.

“This is your fault,” she said, wiping the back of her hand over her cheeks. “I didn't need this in my life right now. There is too much at stake.” She placed her fisted hand at his chest. “And I don't appreciate it one bit.”

With her back against the door frame, she slipped to the floor, drawing her knees into her chest.

“Ah hell,” he murmured and eased down next to her, resting her against him.

The sobs seemed to go on forever. Once the well of thirteen-year-old tears dried up, she gathered her strength to move away from Noah and rose. At the sink, she pulled several paper towels off the roll, wet them, and applied the cool compress to her face.

What just happened? She never allowed herself to lose control like that. And when part of the story she hadn't told him began to slip out, she didn't try to stop the flood behind it, either.

“As soon as they found De Rousse's body and realized who was behind the organ trafficking ring, I was taken into protective custody. Derek and his partner, Samantha, were part of my protection detail. Samantha was this no-nonsense, drop-dead gorgeous woman, and I think Derek was crazy in love with her. They talked me into allowing everyone, including my family, to believe I was dead. For the next several weeks, Samantha and I spent every hour together. She was so sweet with Erin and helped me face the endless doubt about what lay ahead.”

She leaned her hip against the sink.

“On the day I testified, I was ushered out a protected entrance of the courthouse. Samantha turned to say something and her face exploded in front of me.”

Noah started toward her and she placed the island between them. “There was a sniper. Samantha took the hit meant for me. It didn't do any good testifying against the ring. They are still out there—Spencer is out there, living among all of us, doing unthinkable things that only feed my nightmares.

“My children have always lived in this nightmare. They just don't know it. I have to tell them, knowing it will destroy what is left of their childhood.” She paused and formed the words in her head before she said them out loud. “There has always been this chemistry between us. But I can't ever act on it and neither can you.”

“Why, Elizabeth? If we only have tonight, can't we make the most of it?”

“The few moments of bliss in your arms will only make leaving you that much harder.” She wiped her hands onto the paper towel still clutched. “If you would prefer, I'll call Derek and have him pick me up.”

“No, damn it,” he said, charging toward her. “I'll not touch you again, but you're sleeping here tonight with me. I get to give you one fucking night where you can let your guard down and know you are safe.”

His eyes grew even stormier than they were during the Spencer tale. How she would have loved to kiss the seriousness from his features, turning the hardness in his eyes back to their cobalt color. Instead, she dumped the wad of paper towels into the trash and moved toward the staircase off the foyer. Noah said nothing as he turned off the lights behind them and followed her up the stairs.

The second floor split into two wings. Noah took the right wing and opened the last door on the left. Like the rest of the so-called cabin, his room was so large, it would have taken up most of the first floor of her townhouse. A king-size bed sat in the center of the room. The furnishings and wall hangings that completed the space were items Elizabeth could only dream of owning.

Neither said anything as they readied for bed. Noah came up with an old T-shirt that came to above her knees for her to slip on. He lifted the covers on the right side of the bed, the farthest from the doorway, and nodded to her. He switched off the light and got into the bed on the other side. The idea that they were going to sleep on opposite corners of the large structure lasted about half a minute before Noah reached for her, pulling her back until she rested against his stomach, and settled an arm around her waist. His lips brushed the nape of her neck.

“Good night, Elizabeth.”

Don't turn around
. Need. Desperation. Want. If she couldn't have all of him, she would take this moment. Wrapping her hand over his arm, she settled closer into him. She closed her eyes, taking in his musky herbal scent, and prayed she could etch into her memory the strength and power in his arms for those future sleepless nights.

“I thought you weren't going to touch me,” she said in a choked whisper.

“I'm not touching you. I'm holding you. If you need me to show you the difference between the two, I will, gladly.”

Heat rushed into her core. Damn stupid man. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. She shoved down the need he ignited in her and asked the one question she never felt comfortable asking Derek.

“Noah, was there any value in my testifying against those monsters?”

“Yes.”

“How can you say that?”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“The price was too high.”

“Yeah, it was, but it's not all on you anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm not letting you go.”

The soft, melodious country ballad drifted into her consciousness, interrupting the most erotic dream in memory. Coming full awake, she instantly recognized George Strait, one of her all-time favorite music performers. His heartbreaking lyrics brought her back to the days when there was nothing more important than taking turns with her sister dancing on her father's shoes while her brothers chased lightning bugs in the yard.

She sat up in bed and hugged the pillow at her waist, pushing the memory into the void where it belonged. How she wished she had the same power over her body. The dormant parts pulsed from the dreamy images of being wrapped in Noah's arms while his lips caressed every inch.

His words,
I'm not letting you go,
kept her awake long after soft snoring sounds escaped from his throat. Elizabeth had forgotten what it felt like sleeping next to a man, and for the first time in years, she yearned for her walls to come crashing down so she could take what he freely offered.

But nothing had changed. Her life was dangerous, unpredictable, and she wouldn't drag Noah into it.

It took a moment to realize that he no longer lay next to her. The bedroom door stood ajar and a soft light came from the room across the hallway. She slipped out of bed. Following the music, she quietly crossed the hall and eased the door open.

Noah stood with his back to the door, shirtless and holding an art pencil in his left hand. Her gaze fixated on the movements of his firm, solid shoulder muscles as his hand seemed to caress the canvas on the easel in smooth movements, blending the dark charcoal lines into soft grays. His body obstructed the image he created until he stepped away and observed his work. She tore her focus from the beauty of the man and eyed the canvas. The likeness of her was remarkable. He had somehow turned her into a beautiful woman.

“That's incredible,” she whispered as she took a step closer. “You are an artist, Noah, an amazing artist.”

“I dabble in the medium.” He reached over and turned the music down. “Sorry I woke you.”

“You didn't. I had a dream and …”

She swallowed the lump in her throat as heat rushed into her cheeks. The last thing she needed was Noah asking her what her dream was about. “Danny never mentioned this about you.”

“I've been drawing for as long as I can remember. Jared makes lists, Jason takes long rides on his bike, Mac reads everything under the sun, and I do this.” He glanced at the easel. “It relaxes me and helps keep what's real front and center.”

“And Adam?”

He shrugged. “I don't know, but I intend to find out.”