Ties That Bind (31 page)

A slight movement at the edge of her vision caught her off guard. Now she was seeing things, she cursed herself as she glanced at the clock. They would be landing in just a few hours...where had all that time gone?

“May I come in?”

Mitch
. From somewhere in her darkened room, he was there. Her stomach fluttered. How long had he been watching her?  “Of course.”

He moved slowly, as if in a daze. She could see no visible scars on him and his hair was only ruffled from the hand he kept dragging through it. His shirt was open, a white bandage no bigger than her fist the only indication that the night's events had even occurred. But he wouldn't meet her gaze and that told her enough. He sank down in front of her, burying his face in her lap. Her hand hesitated in mid-air before resting on the top of his head. He wasn’t crying, wasn’t even emotionally spent by the look of him, but the resignation of the night’s events seemed to have enveloped him. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way - his exhausted face pressed into her bare legs, but she couldn’t bear the thought of pushing him away for even a moment.

His soft breathing had almost lulled her to sleep when she felt it...the soft, silky slide of his lips along her flesh. His hands slid across her thighs, pushing the already short fabric of her slip higher up. He didn't ask permission, didn't even glance her direction for approval and that alone gave her chills. His mouth traced slowly along her skin, first sliding up one thigh and then down the other as he nuzzled her gently with his growing beard. Her breath caught in her throat as he scooted her further back on the bed, his hands drifting aimlessly along her curves as he shifted his body to lay on top of her.

His touch was light, almost irritatingly so, and she gripped his shirt tightly in her fists in an attempt to pull him toward her. Her movement accomplished nothing, though, not even a change in his breathing pattern as he continued to slip his tongue along the curves of her neck. His fingers tightened around her breasts, causing her to let out a tiny gasp. His mouth moved to cover hers, the pressure of his lips on hers and his hot breath causing her to almost suffocate under his demands.

He undressed casually, as if stepping into the shower, his movements seeming painstakingly slow. She wanted to grab for him, pull his body into hers and show him the desperation with which she wanted to be with the man he kept so hidden. But, he would have nothing of it. His caresses were smooth but not tentative, the self-assurance that normally aggravated her now causing her breath to stagger in her throat. She let her fingers slip along the muscles in his arms, across the sharp angles of his shoulder blades that arched rhythmically as he moved. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers as his body moved with a slow, calm rhythm just for her.

He only moved when she breathed...a hypnotic action that seemed to draw her deeper into him. She had no idea how he managed such serene control over himself but his gliding movement touched her more deeply than she ever imagined possible. She felt a warmth grow in her lower abdomen and sucked in a breath as he let his fingers trail down her side to crook her leg up toward him.

Even in her frazzled state, she could sense her perception becoming more acute- the metallic creak of the bed underneath them; his calloused hands rubbing on the back of her neck; the river of chilled air drifting across his shoulders from somewhere high up above; the thump of his heart pressing into her flesh; the medicinal stench of his first aid treatment being overtaken by his smell of sweet gun oil and salty sweat; the slight tickle of his long hair as it swayed against her face with his movements; the tremble in his already exhausted muscles as he tried to hold on long enough to get them where they needed to go.

She could feel him shift position, moving his arms underneath her shoulders to cradle her head in his hands. He had no energy to kiss her but dropped his face in her shoulder, his labored breathing hovering at the hollow of her throat as he used his new position to entwine them so deeply it tinged on painful.

“Breathe, girl,” he ordered quietly, his command veiled with a tinge of concern.

How he had noticed such a thing in his exhausted state was beyond her. That he could block everything out and be there only for her made her weak. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes as she tried to ignore him. She didn't want to breathe. She knew a single breath would cause the feeling to end, oxygen would rush over her and she'd no longer be able to stave off the feelings he had caused to well within her. She wanted to prolong it...to lock out the real world for as long as she possibly could manage, to keep it just the two of them – a tiny sliver of life where there was no blood or death or broken ties of loyalty.

She caught his eye uneasily, his ice blue eyes darkened to the color of piercing steel, looking far deeper into her soul than she thought possible. He knew.

He knew what she was afraid of and what she wasn't. What she wanted to escape from and what she longed to have. He understood that by holding her breath she was prolonging the sensation of true living that he had welled within her. He had recognized how desperately she feared the lost dreams her father had stolen from her.

Dreams of simplicity – days of sunshine watching her children play in the front yard; a happy marriage not tinged with death where hours were filled with common everyday things like washing clothes and dishes and baking bread – things she remembered her mother doing in childhood. She knew he could see her fear of never feeling this way again – and it terrified her. As tempted as she was to stay here in this place forever, he was telling her it was impossible and that she had to move on. She had a choice but it took his words to convince her to make the decision.

“I’m here, girl,” he whispered, pulling her into a reassuring embrace, “just let it come.”

She sucked in a desperate breath, her sobs punctuated by ragged gasps as he quickened and allowed shudders to overtake them both. She clasped to him, unwilling to let him move away. He rubbed her head gently, her body trembling with uncontrollable sobs from both fear and the effect he’d had on her.

He traced the curve of her waist as he felt her heart slow and her emotions return to normal.

“Ask me, Toni. I'm only giving you limited time to come up for air.”

Whether it was a threat or a promise, she wasn't sure. She considered the many thing she wanted to ask him – about his past, her past, Gino, Jimmie, even Ashli – but none seemed to be appropriate after the tender, almost reverent love making they had just shared. “Are you alright?”

His hand traced lightly down her face, slipping across her jawline, his fingertips brushing loose curls away from her glimmering eyes. “I'm stronger with you beside me,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing hers, “and yet, a thousand times weaker as well.”

His lips traced hers without touching them, her ragged breathing giving away her impatience as he continued to explore the curves of her face with his lips. He could feel her pulse race beneath him, her lips becoming more demanding, and her touches more aggressive. When she shifted her body to lay over him, he pulled inches away. “I'm not,” whispered, “and you should know that going in.”

“Mitch,” she smiled, “I knew that the moment you first arrived in San Francisco.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

He kicked at the cobblestones, lagging a few paces behind the others as they meandered through the ever narrowing passages of Valderice. He inhaled the fresh scent, the salty breeze that managed to waft away all the odor from the nearby fields where goats were rambling loose across the countryside. He raised a hand in greeting to a grandmother, accepting a fresh orange from one of the children he supposed lived in the tiny hovel she called home. All the houses here were of stone, crumbling remnants that had been whitewashed with age. What he remembered as dark brown and cinnamon colored were now the lightest shades of beige and khaki. He smiled as Toni drifted back to his side, letting Gino and Jimmie walk on ahead. A few paces behind them, Gino's entourage was following, their footsteps so quiet even over the pebbles that Mitch had to constantly remind himself that they were actually there and danger had still not passed.

“Gino is telling stories of a Halloween massacre,” she said with a lopsided grin. “I decided his morbid tales are ruining the beauty of such a place. He told me I should come be philosophical with you.”

“Not me,” he laughed, offering her a slice of the orange he was peeling. “Not today anyway.”

“Not enough alcohol for philosophy?” she queried, letting her arm slip through his.

“No alcohol yet,” he admitted. “Although I'm told Gino has lunch planned for us at a nearby vineyard so we'll all likely be soused by the time we get back to his house.”

“Gino called Nicolai,” she said quietly. “Told him if he had a problem with my being here to take it up with him and leave you alone.”

“And he replied?”

She shrugged. “He offers his condolences for the loss you and Jimmie have suffered and prays that the federal situation will be quickly resolved in the favor of Vinetti Industries.”

“How diplomatic.”

“Yes, he's nothing if not
diplomatic
,” she mumbled.

He let his hand rest on hers, tightening it around his arm. “I give, Toni. I don't understand your fury at him. Not about this. This was not his doing.” When she didn't answer immediately, Mitch stopped mid stride and turned to face her. “Or am I mistaken?”

He eyed her intently, confused for a moment at her silence. She was fingering the locket around her neck, the one with the Terenari family crest on it, the one he had forced her to put back on before they disembarked the plane in Sicily. She refused to tell him why she had ripped it off to begin with but he wasn't going to allow her anger at her father be displayed for everyone to see. At least in public, she would be a loyal daughter.

A loyal daughter
. Mitch's mind raced with the obscure comments she had made to him since their reunion. How Nicolai was no longer honorable, how she had been witness to his misdeeds, how she knew without question that Nicolai would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. And it had all started with a single unsolved murder almost 10,000 miles from where they now stood.

“How long have you know Nicolai killed Coppell?” he asked.

A dam broke instantly in her emotions and her words came fast. “I didn't know you would join the Vinettis. I had no idea. Nicolai had no idea. He had counted on you coming to him after Coppell's death. You retreat to familiar, that’s what he said. He'd made sure you weren't even in the country so there could be no question about your involvement in it but those stupid cops...and then Ashli stepping in from nowhere. Everything happened so fast. Instead of moving you closer, he forced you to Jimmie's side. None of this, not you being shot, not Ashli turning, not where we stand at this moment, would have happened if it weren't for Nicolai and his damned determination to always come out on top.”

He placed a hand on her to calm her. “Make no mistake, girl, I am at Jimmie's side by choice. Not by any turns of fate or foiled intentions of your father. My current situation is a result of my own actions and no one else's. Never forget that.”

“And me?” she whispered.  “Is it a decades old promise, memories only, that keep you beside me?”

Mitch sighed, knowing what she wanted to hear and knowing there was no way he could offer it. He couldn't and wouldn't love her – no matter how easy it might be for him to do so and how difficult the battle to fight it was. But she was the one constant in his life. The one thing that shone through despite all the lies and betrayal the mob and the IOC dealt him. He couldn't love her but he wasn't willing to lose her either.

Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her forehead and then dropped his lips to her ear. “I am beside you because some fates are impossible to fight.”

“My complicity in Coppell...” she trailed off and then tried to straighten herself to face him. “Were it not for me, I think, this all could have been prevented.”

“Your complicity?”

“I was there,” she whispered. “He made me go along. I hadn't been back at his side long and I think he meant it as a test of sorts. I didn't even know who Coppell was at the time – had no idea of your connection to him.” She was shaking now, her body trembling as she tried to voice the thoughts jumbling through her. “We were alone in the room with him. It happened so fast. He was in his pajamas, they had little gold fleur de lis' all over them. And the blood, it was everywhere. Nicolai's shot went straight through the back of his head. He didn't even slump over. It was just...”

“Oh, lord, girl,” Mitch mumbled, pulling her into his arms as her emotions finally broke and her anger turned into tears. The more she cried, the more his fury at Nicolai grew. That he would involve her in such a thing, that he would force her to witness such a thing...did the man have no redeeming qualities left in him?

“It won't happen again, I assure you.”

The growl in his voice caused Toni to straighten, putting things back in their rightful perspective. “Don't, Mitch. Don't give him ultimatums. It will only make things worse.”

“I will not allow him to destroy whatever humanity you've managed to hang onto while at his side. If you think differently, then you don't know me at all.”