I swallowed the handful of pain relievers Mom laid out for me, pressed the ice pack to my head and leaned back.
“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down, honey?” Mom whispered, tucking the afghan around my legs.
“Mom, you don’t need to whisper. I just hit my head.”
“You knocked yourself unconscious and got five stitches,” she scolded with the motherly tone of disapproval she’d perfected years ago.
I rolled my eyes. “Technically, I fainted first.”
She sat next to me and cupped my free hand in her own. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry I can’t stay longer. Your grandfather needs me and I can’t find anyone else to watch him.”
I turned my head toward her in super slow motion. Not sure why my neck was so stiff. I guess slipping in a pool of blood and cracking your head open can do crazy things to a body. “Mom, it’s okay. I’ll be all right.” Physically anyway. Emotionally? Well, that was a soap opera I wasn’t ready to tune into.
“I know, I know. When will your friend be here?”
“Anytime now. She’s going to stay the night.”
Mom swallowed hard. Her eyes glistened with welling emotion. “Good. That’s good.”
“Mom, I promise. I’ll be fine,” I reassured her.
The doorbell rang and Leland let himself in. His gaze fell immediately on Mom, and he looked twenty years younger every time they shared the same space. He nodded. “Afternoon, Ms. Wood.”
Mom offered a shy smile.
He turned to me. “Tatum. How you feeling?”
“Peachy,” I grumbled. I don’t know why I acted like a moody teenager around that man.
“Can I have a word before we go?” he asked.
“Of course.” I handed the ice pack to Mom and she got up to take it to the kitchen.
Leland parked it on the opposite end of the couch, taking care not to jostle me. “Masters confessed to helping Dahlia. Claims he had nothing to do with the murder but did help to set you up.” He smirked. “Of course, this happened after I was forced to leave Franklin alone with him for a significant period of time.” He paused, shook his head, then continued. “The two met at a charity event after her divorce and hit it off. She’d been obsessed with taking Cruse Investigations down. Masters offered to help. When he discovered you and Franklin worked there it was like winning the payback lottery. He put his own plan into action. They paid off one of your tech guys to manipulate the video feeds and hack the email accounts.”
“John?” I asked.
“Yes. John Staples. We arrested him this morning.”
“Dahlia came to the office asking for Nan the other day. She tripped into me and her rings caught in my hair. I have a bald spot where she yanked her hand free.” I ran my fingers across the back of my head. Brilliant. “That explains the hair, but what about the roses?”
“Sick bastard did that for show. Wanted to scare you, and drive Franklin crazy. Thought he’d punish Reed by going after you.” Leland huffed and shook his head. “They’d been planning for quite some time. Needless to say, Jay Masters won’t be able to buy his way out of these charges. Murder, kidnapping, and the list keeps growing.”
“So, I’m off the hook?” I asked with an unnatural squeak.
With a wide grin, Leland patted my thigh and stood. “Yes, Miss Wood. I think we can safely say, you’re off the hook.”
I shot him a playful wink. “I’m going to miss your handsome mug, Detective Waters.”
“Stay out of trouble, will you?” He winked back then turned to my mother. “Shall we head out, Anna?”
Mom blushed and nodded. Leland grabbed her suitcase and stood in the doorway. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” He flashed a sweet, mushy, tender smile her way, then looked at me. “Get some rest, Tatum.”
When he was out of sight, I couldn’t help but tease. “Nice of him to offer you a ride to the airport, huh?” I would’ve wiggled my eyebrows at her if my head didn’t hurt so bad.
She smiled her none of your business smile and bent to kiss me.
“Have a safe flight.” I grabbed her hand and squeezed.
“I’ll call when I get home. Love you, Tatum.” Mom shot me a wink, blew a kiss, and slipped out the door.
I heard Lizzie’s voice and then a faint knock.
“Come in.”
“Tate. Holy shit. Your mom is a bombshell. I see where you get your looks.”
“Hey,” I squeaked, fighting back an embarrassing surge of female emotion. I hadn’t asked Lizzie to come stay with me. She’d called, out of the blue, and offered her friendship services. I wasn’t dense. I knew Franklin put her up to it. Heck, he had probably bribed her with an obscene amount of money, or had held a gun to her head while she dialed my number. Most likely, he made her wear a wire so he could spy on our conversation. I hadn’t spoken to him since the whole kidnapping incident. Lizzie had, and knowing she had, made my bones ache. I fought the urge to drill her about his mental and emotional state. She was here to help, and it was a comfort knowing I wouldn’t be alone to wallow in my misery.
After a gentle hug, she plopped on the couch next to me. “You look like you’ve been butt-fucked by the grim reaper.”
I laughed, then winced. Ouch.
“Would it make you feel better to know your dip-shit boyfriend looks ten times worse? God, I’m so happy he didn’t fall victim to my charms. Life with him sucks hairy balls.”
“Stop making me laugh,” I warned, trying not to crack up.
“What shall we do with ourselves?” she asked, looking around the room. “This is quite a spread. You rich or something?”
“Sure am. Just got richer, too. My lawyer says Wallace Cruse had millions stashed in different accounts. Still not sure why he left it to me, but whatever. I might need it. If word gets out about Wallace’s scam, there’s going to be a butt load of lawsuits coming our way.” I couldn’t give Lizzie every detail of what happened, but I did hit the main points.
“That sucks. I’m glad I’m not rich. What’s going on with you and Mr. Reed? Why is he at the bar with Miss Leather Mini and not here taking care of you? Do I need to rough him up a bit?” Her eyes glowed with spirited curiosity.
A possessive fire burned in my belly. “Miss Leather Mini?”
“Yeah, the woman you mistook for a whore. They’ve spent the last two days sitting in your booth drinking themselves stupid.” She seemed a little too thrilled to be dumping this information in my wounded lap.
An invisible ice pick jabbed at my heart. “I told him I never wanted to see him again.” Why did it hurt? “Why do I want to kill her?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Damn, Lizzie. She knew exactly which buttons in my stupid, stubborn head to push.
“I don’t think there’s any reason to be jealous. The bitch made a pass at me more than once. Franklin finally made her stop.” She laughed, then sucked her lips between her teeth when she noticed I wasn’t laughing with her. “Talk to me, baby.”
“That’s the problem. I can’t.” I couldn’t talk to anyone because of his job. “The only thing I can tell you is that he’s not the man I thought he was.”
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Did he hurt you?”
He mortally wounded my heart and soul. “Yes. I mean, no. Not exactly, I guess.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know him. Not the real him.” He’d lied to me. His stalking skills put Jay Masters to shame. He’d admitted to being obsessed with me since we were children.
“So get to know him. You’ve fucked already, and by the look on both of your faces when you’re together, the fucking is pretty fucking amazing.”
Oh jeez. Brash much? “It’s complicated.”
“Only if you let it be,” she quickly retorted.
“You’re starting to piss me off.”
“Because I’m right. Right? Don’t be an idiot. Whatever it is you’re mad about, get over it. Men like Franklin Reed don’t come around very often. The guy worships you. He’d kill for you. What woman doesn’t want to be wanted like that by someone like him, huh?”
“I think I just need a few days. To process.”
“Don’t wait too long. You’ll kick yourself for letting someone like him slip through your fingers.”
God, she had no idea. I couldn’t enlighten her, either. I couldn’t tell anyone. This was my cross to bear. Alone.
Stalker. Assassin. Sexpot. He’d been a major player in my life story, a character I didn’t know existed, lurking in the shadows. My protector. Not Dad, the man who’d become a mystery to me. The whole time, it was Franklin.
Franklin was my hero.
* * * *
Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” played on a continuous loop in my head. I finally pulled out my iPod and played it for real. It used to be Mom’s favorite song, and when I was growing up, I’d heard it at least once a day, either blaring from the stereo or from her lips. I finally understood why she’d loved it so much.
I made sure Lizzie was squared away in her room and tucked myself in bed after one too many glasses of wine. I downed an ibuprofen-acetaminophen cocktail and dug out my new favorite sleeping garment: Franklin’s Pearl Jam T-shirt. He wasn’t getting the shirt back. Ever. It was mine. I’d earned it.
I turned the volume to ear splitting level and found a comfy spot on my pillow. My head throbbed and my heart hurt. Every word, mixed with the soulful, husky edge of her voice, wounded me. My muscles ached deeper than I’d ever thought possible. Was it the wine? Maybe. I sang along, pushing through the lump in my throat, wiping away tears with the corner of my pillowcase.
Sometimes, a girl just needed to find a sappy song and sing and wallow. Things would be better in the morning. A good hard cry did wonders for the female psyche.
When I’d regained consciousness on the floor next to Dahlia’s dead body, I lost my shit. Franklin had knelt by my side, holding a bloody towel to my head. Like a maniac, I’d screamed for him to get away. To stop touching me. “I hate you! I hate you!” I don’t know how many times I’d said those words before I’d pushed him off and bolted out the door. I couldn’t bear to look him in the face. Leland had caught me before I stumbled down a set of stairs and forced me to sit until one of his officers could drive me to the hospital. Franklin hadn’t come after me. Nor had he come to the hospital, or the police station when I’d given my statement. He hadn’t called. He’d stayed away, like I’d told him to.
I no longer fit in my bed. Without Franklin, I was a flea lost in a giant pile of Egyptian cotton. Lost forever in the vast loneliness surrounding me. I turned the music up louder, cried, and sang.
I woke the next morning feeling like I’d swallowed a chalkboard eraser. A glass of water sparkled under the early morning sun on my nightstand. My iPod and headphones lay on the pillow next to me. It’d been turned off. I assumed Lizzie had checked on me. That was until I noticed a crumpled suit jacket at the foot of my bed.
His musk lingered, adding an unexpected warmth to the room. I sat up nice and slow, grabbed the pillow next to mine, and held it to my nose. It reeked of sweet alcohol. I looked to the bathroom, my heart flittering much faster than it should’ve been. It was empty. I slunk out of bed and pulled a pair of sweats over my naked legs. Lizzie was still asleep in the guest bedroom.
The rest of the condo was empty.
I hated the way grief made my whole body ache.
By the time I’d brewed an extra strong pot of coffee, Lizzie stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. “Morning, sunshine.” She gave me a peck on the cheek and a slap on the ass. “Nice T-shirt.”
I brushed my hand down the front of it. “Thanks. Hey, did you hear anybody come in last night?” I handed her a cup of black heaven.
“No. I slept like a baby pumped full of Benadryl. God, it’s so quiet here at night.” She quirked an eyebrow at me. “Why? Who would come in? Who else has a key?” She dumped half my sugar jar into her coffee and didn’t bother to stir.
“Franklin.” Holy cow, I couldn’t even say his name without blushing. It belonged on my tongue. It was mine to speak. And fuck my wounded heart, I’d die before letting another woman own it.
“He didn’t wake you?” she asked, eyes wide and smiling.
“No.”
“Hey, didn’t you say he put cameras in here?”
Cameras. How did I forget about those? “You’re brilliant. Yes. I’ve never used them, though. But I think I can access them through my computer. Or my phone. Maybe both.”
We ran like giddy schoolgirls to my computer and turned it on. Franklin left handwritten instructions right next to it when he’d installed my new security system. In a matter of minutes, Lizzie and I examined the video feed from the night before, fast forwarding to the good parts.
We’d called it a night around eleven-thirty. I cried and sang in my room for about an hour and a half. At two thirty-six, Franklin came in. Clearly inebriated by the sway in his step. He came straight to my room and stood in the doorway for a good twenty minutes before removing his jacket and slipping my headphones out of my ears. He put them on and listened. For ten minutes he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. Then he turned off the iPod, rolled to his side, and stroked my hair. He didn’t sleep. He watched me, occasionally brushing his fingers over my arm or my hip until five-thirty. He rose, got me a glass of water, and sat on the floor next to my bed with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. At six-fifteen, he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead and left.
“Oh Tate, look at him. He’s so, so…” She scratched her head. “Not the Franklin I know.”
“Lizzie. What am I going to do?” How could I crave him so desperately when he’d left me with festering wounds?
Lizzie snapped her fingers in my face. “Snap the fuck out of this funk you’re in and go get that man. He loves you. Can’t you see that?”
I could see he was miserable. But was it just guilt? “It’s not that easy. You don’t understand.”
“What is there to understand, exactly? The hottest man in Seattle, possibly the entire western hemisphere, is sneaking into your room at night to be with you. He could be in any bed, naked, with any woman he wanted. He’s here, with you. Do you need to watch the playback again? He is so in love with you, and distraught, and sad. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it’s tearing him apart. He’s been drinking for days, Tate. I’ve known him for three years. He’s never done that before.”
“Lizzie, who knew?” I hugged her. “Under your tough exterior, you are a big softie. I bet you have romance novels stuffed under your bed, don’t you?”
“Eww. No, thank you. I’m more of a horror fan.” She rose and grabbed my empty mug. “More coffee?”
I nodded.
“When are you going back to work?”
Yeah. There was that little matter. I didn’t want the company. I didn’t want the headache, and I definitely didn’t want to inherit the bad rep. Wallace had done a number. I had to wipe my hands clean of the place. There was nothing left of my dad there. And quite frankly, I was kinda pissed at Dad. Or maybe, I couldn’t bear the weight of walking into that building every day knowing Franklin wouldn’t be sharing my space.
“I meet with the lawyers today. After that, I’ll check in at work.” I didn’t want to face my coworkers. I wanted to let the company crumble. But they had families. Bills to pay. I couldn’t do that to them.
“Good. Let’s get going then, shall we? I need to get back to the bar. Make sure they haven’t burned the place down in my absence.”
I pulled my new best friend in for a big bear hug. “Thanks for staying with me. It wasn’t necessary, but I appreciate it.”
Lizzie snorted. “I had fun, baby. Besides, it’s not like Franklin would take no for an answer.”
“I knew he put you up to this,” I huffed.
She grabbed my shoulders. “Hey, I would’ve come anyway. Like I said, the guy’s head over heels. Borderline obsessive, if you ask me.”
I laughed. “You have no idea.”
* * * *
I straightened my skirt, lifted my chin and pushed through the door. Nan stood at my desk, looking frazzled and shocked to see me. “Tatum. Hi.”
Her forlorn expression cut through the wall of defense I’d constructed in anticipation of our reunion. My heart melted for her. She’d lost a loved one. A secret loved one. Leaving her with no one to share her grief.
I hugged her tight. “How are you holding up?” I asked.
She sniffled. “Plugging along. I’m surprised to see you here.” Her embrace lacked any effort or emotion.
“Yeah, well. I guess I have a company to run,” I said, releasing her.
“So I hear.” Dark shadows clouded her eyes, but her face paled.
“Nan. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to take the lead while I figure out what the hell I’m doing. Everybody knows you run this place anyway.”
She looked at the floor and shifted her feet. “Tatum. I don’t know what to say. I assumed the worst of you and I’m truly sorry.”
“Don’t. It was no secret I detested the man.” I paused and sucked in an encouraging breath. “How long have you been in love with him?”
Her eyes snapped to mine. Wide. Disbelieving. Relieved. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Years, Tatum. Years.”
“I’m sorry.” I was. How she could love a man like him, I’d never understand. But loss was loss. Grieving sucked.
“Thank you.”
“Is anyone else here?” I asked, plopping my tired rear into my chair.
“Yes. They came back for you, dear. Everyone except for John. I’m sure you’ve heard. Oh, and Franklin.” She hadn’t heard about Franklin. Nobody had. They couldn’t. I’d have to tell everyone he quit.
I still couldn’t believe John had been in on it. “Nan, I have to ask you something.” She stopped in the doorway and turned back toward me. “Did you know about the actors Wallace hired?”
“No. I didn’t. And I won’t believe it until I see proof.” Her voice cracked. God, she had been smitten. And delusional.
“Okay,” I conceded. How could she have loved the weasel and known the comings and goings of everyone in the company for the last four years and not have a clue about Wallace’s shenanigans? It wasn’t the day to push. “I’m not ready to dive in yet, but maybe you can help me get his office in order later this week.”
“I’ve already started. Hope you don’t mind. I figured you’d want to move in as soon as possible. You can’t run a company from this sad excuse for an office.” She offered a pathetic grin.
“I was hoping you’d take it. I’d rather work out of the janitor’s closet.”
Her face lit up.
“Let’s talk about this later. Today, it’s business as usual. I’ll man the phones, you do what you do. Sound good?” I asked.
“Sounds lovely.”
Relief washed some of the sadness from her eyes. She shot me a thankful glance and headed to her office. I got busy with my routine. Or tried, anyway.
My Franklin-sized hole was back. The place was a prison. The sun shone bright, but my office closed in around me, dark and dismal. Or maybe that was my spirit caving in.
I dug my cell from my purse and ran my finger over the screen. I could call him. Maybe the sound of his voice would soothe the ache. My finger itched to push the dial button. What would I even say?
The man had stalked me my whole life. He’d manipulated me from the shadows. Kept me from experiencing relationships or nurturing friendships. I had been an unknowing puppet. He’d been the master. How many boys had he threatened? Assaulted? Did Dad put him up to it or did he develop that skill on his own?
Was he watching me now? I studied the small room. There were few places a camera could hide. I wasn’t going to search. Instead, I flipped my middle finger to every corner of the room, scooped up my handbag and keys and headed down the hall.
My phone buzzed, announcing a text. A bomb exploded behind my left breast.
That wasn't nice.
Gah! Bastard was watching me. Fire brewed in my belly and spread to my aching brain. I strode to Nan’s office. She sat, staring blankly.
“You got things covered here?” I asked.
“What’s wrong? Your face is beet red.”
So was hers, but I didn’t want to say anything. “I have to go. Something’s come up. I hate asking you this, but can you handle things?”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Tatum. I’ve handled things for years. Go. Do what you have to do. You’re the boss now, remember? Oh, by the way, I put an ad out to hire a new receptionist.”
Huh. Wise move, considering I’d been promoted to head honcho. “You’re the best. You know that?”
She waved me off.
I stormed to the elevator, searching the corners and ceiling for cameras. I wouldn’t see them. Wasn’t sure why I bothered to look. I flipped my middle finger again. My phone buzzed.
You’re hurting my feelings.
God. Did he think this was funny? This needed to stop. Today. I couldn’t live my life constantly looking over my shoulder, guarding my every move.
I slid into my car and paused for some deep breathing exercises. My hands trembled with rage. My vision blurred with angry tears. I couldn’t drive until I calmed down. Resting my head against the seat, I studied the ceiling of my car. Nothing looked unusual. I flipped my middle finger and waited.
Nothing. When I’d calmed, I started the car and headed toward a confrontation that would either make or break me. Or, gauging by the thunderous roar of blood pounding through my ears, end with Franklin bloody at my feet.
Woman scorned and all.
* * * *
I drudged up the stairwell leading to his apartment, bursting with nervous energy. A rush of dread swept through me when I spied the bullet holes in the door. Bullets meant for me, that by some miracle had missed their mark. Except it wasn’t a miracle. It was Franklin Reed.
My first attempt at knocking was more of a tap. Sheesh, why was I so nervous to face him? I hit the door again with my palm and made it loud.
No answer.
I headed downstairs to the bar. Like a super magnet controlled me, my eyes were drawn to him seated in our special corner, hunched over the table, eyes glued to his cell. He didn’t look up.
Lizzie grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side. “No trouble, okay?”
Did my fury show? “No trouble, I promise. Is he drunk?”
“No. He just came down. I haven’t served him yet. Don’t want to. I hate seeing him that way.”
Why did it warm my heart knowing she was watching out for him? “God, I love you, Lizzie.” I kissed her cheek.
I walked slowly to where he sat, biding time to let my courage build. He glanced up, eyes clouded with remorse. My knees buckled. When he caught my gaze, ten years melted off his face. He immediately stood, grabbed my elbow and led me out the back door.
I was out of breath by the time he pulled me into the apartment, not from exertion, but anticipation. Strong fingers sent pulses of electricity through me, striking my girlie parts. The man commanded my full compliance with the force of his being. I was doomed.
He closed the door and pushed me against it, pinning me with his hips. Oh, God. There wasn’t time to state my reason for coming. He tilted his head, searching my eyes, stealing my ability to speak, then took my mouth with fierce, desperate abandon.
He melted me from the inside out. The way that man kissed. Holy hell. It was lust, passion, need. But more than that, desperation. Like goodbye. Like this was the last time we’d share a lover’s embrace and he wanted to communicate everything he couldn’t put into words. He poured his heartache, remorse, and loneliness into it, expressing his internal struggle. I realized, in the midst of his brutally honest kiss, I didn’t want to be the cause of his torment. I wanted to be the cure.
I kissed him back, forcing my anger and hurt at him. My own desperate need. His strong hands slid up my back, then he cupped my head just below the stitches, protecting me from the hard door. Always shielding me.
His lips left mine and made their way down my neck, then over my thin blouse to my breast. Oh no, I was going to come. If he so much as breathed on my nipple, I would explode.
“Franklin, I—”
“Shhh.” He silenced me. “No words, not now, please, baby.” He worked the buttons of my blouse. “Just feel. Feel what you do to me.”
“No,” I moaned, unimpressed by my own conviction. I’d come here to put an end to this mad affair, hadn’t I?
“Not no. Not today. ‘No’ doesn’t exist.” He reached down, hiked up my skirt and hooked his thumbs into the waist of my panties. “Say ‘yes,’ love. Please. I’m suffocating. Can’t breathe without you.”
Oh crap. Why did he have to talk like that? “Yes,” I moaned. Wait. Shit, what was I doing? “No.” I shook my head and slapped my palm to his chest. “No.” I pushed, but he didn’t budge.
His hands fisted against my hips, and he dropped his forehead to mine.
“No.” Each time I said it, I reclaimed a few of my wits.
I’d never been overcome by such a mish-mash of emotion. I didn’t know how to sort or where to catalog. This was wrong, right? Franklin murdered people—he spied, lied, and God only knew what else. He said it was for the good guys. Did that make it right?
“Franklin,” I whispered. “This has to end. We can’t continue like this.”
A disgruntled groan vibrated low in his throat. “I’m not a monster.”
Oh, shit. “No, you’re not. And that’s my point. What you’re doing, what you’ve done. It has to stop. I’m not your possession or your responsibility. You can’t spy on me, or lie, or control who I see, what I do, where I go.”
He dropped his hands and stepped back. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me, because I’m trying to make sense of this and I can’t. You know everything about me. More than I know. It’s my life. Do you know how fucked up that is? I can’t live like that.”
He lifted his face to the ceiling, rolled his shoulders and pumped his fists. One, two, three deep breaths and he drew me to his chest, fingers curling into my shoulders. For the first time ever, I saw fear in his eyes. I put it there. “You can’t run. I’m begging you. You are my everything. Do you understand? I can’t let you go.” His breaths blew hot and measured in my face.
The panicked, desperate pain behind his words should’ve wounded me, but only added spice to the brewing pot of frustration boiling inside me. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to run, but how can I stay? You’ve manipulated my life for how long now? You’re still spying on me. Don’t you see how wrong it is? Don’t you get it?” I wanted to scream, kick, punch, and draw blood all over again.
“Being without you is wrong,” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s what I know. You’re all I have left. That’s my reality.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me with him. I scrambled to pull my skirt down over my butt as he led me through the hallway and into his bedroom, kicking the door open.
He stopped in front of his wall-o’-weirdness. “I was a freshman in high school when I started this board. Fourteen years old. You were ten. Tony said it would help keep me focused on the target. Was it wrong? Maybe. I’m not going to question his motives. It brought me to you.” His hand tightened around my wrist.
“You were only fourteen. You couldn’t have loved me.” I tried to regain control of my aching appendage. He sighed and released me.
Franklin turned, burning a hole through me with the intensity of his glare. “You don’t have a Goddamned clue what I felt.”
Oh. It was disgusting the way that look made my insides twitch. “You’re right, because I know nothing about you.” I stepped back. “You know what doesn’t make sense? If Dad loved us both so much, why didn’t he introduce us? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”
Franklin dropped his arms to his sides in defeat. “He didn’t want you to know that side of him. Your Dad lived and breathed the darkest parts of humanity. He didn’t want any of that ugly touching you. I didn’t either.”
I stumbled backward and plopped my rear on the bed. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Franklin.”
“Killer.” He sat and leaned forward, elbows to knees, hands clasped, head tilted to look at me. His deep blue eyes captivated me, sung to me, worshipped me. “You’re here because you can’t stay away any more than I can. Because we fit. Crazy as it is, we fit.” Franklin leaned in and stole a kiss.
“Don’t,” I gasped, pulling away.
“Don’t now or don’t ever?” he asked, the tension in his voice palpable.
I stood, brushed a finger across his lips, then turned toward the wall of photos. If there was any chance of things working between us, that wall needed to go, along with the spyware recording my every move. For the moment, I could do nothing about the surveillance gear, but the pictures? Well….
“I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t,” he pleaded.
I looked over my shoulder to shoot him a glare. Then I started ripping the pictures of me off his wall.
I got a few good chunks torn down before Franklin caged me in his deadly weapons disguised as arms. “Please, stop.”
“No. These go, or I do.” It was a threat I wasn’t sure I could follow through on, but I needed to get my point across.
“You’re not going anywhere. Neither are they.”
“Let go of me.” I wiggled against him, trying to wrench myself free. Damn, the man was strong. And he smelled yummy. Made it difficult to stand my ground and fight. “Don’t you see? I’m right here. I’m right here in front of you. You don’t need those anymore. Take them down, please.” God, why was my voice so weak and shaky?
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“It’s my history, too.” He let me go and grabbed a photo from the top right corner. “See this one?” I studied it. It was taken while I waited for the school bus on my first day of high school. “That’s the day I took my mother to the emergency room for the first time. She’d swallowed a bottle of pills.” He tossed it on the bed. “You helped me cope.”
“And this one.” He pulled another picture off the wall, then sat back down on the bed. It was of Mom and me eating lunch at our favorite bistro. “That’s the day Tony realized I was in love with you. He tried to beat some sense into me. I’d been training, though, and I held my ground. I didn’t strike him back, out of respect.” Franklin chuckled. “The bastard broke my nose. Told me that love made us weak.”
I hadn’t known my father at all. I rubbed the small bump at the bridge of his snout. “Why didn’t you ever reach out to me?”
“He would’ve killed me, Tate. He didn’t want you connected to this life any more than I did. I was his recruit. And you have to understand, if I fucked up, especially over a woman, it would’ve tarnished his reputation.”
“He wouldn’t have killed you literally.”
“Baby, the Antonio you knew wouldn’t have. The Tony I knew would’ve in a heartbeat, to keep you safe.”
“Just like you.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I learned from the best.”
“Take the pictures down.” I pushed myself between his legs and cupped his face, tilting it up to look at me. “Put them in a box.” I bent and softly grazed his lips. “Put them in a photo album. I don’t care. Just no more of this creepy wall.” See? I could compromise. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need those anymore.”
Franklin pulled me in for a hug, snuggling his cheek against my breasts. “You’re being awful bossy, Miss Wood.” He slid his hands down my back and rested them on my rear.
“A girl has to be the boss once in a while.”
“Hmm,” he groaned, pulling my skirt back up to expose my ass. My body warmed, from the inside out. A throbbing heat hit my cheeks.
“Franklin, I—”
Before I could finish, I was lifted, twirled and tossed on the bed.
“No—no—no. Not here.” I scooted back, away from the beast stalking me. Hungry and dangerous. Oh, shit. I was not about to get naked and sweaty in a room filled with computers and a wall full of—me. No way. I jumped from the bed and sprinted into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
“Tate, baby,” he groaned into the door. “What’s going on?”
“I need to clean up a bit.” Lie. I needed to pull myself together. The man fried my brain cells just by looking at me the right way. “I’ll be right out. And we are not going back in that room.”
“Fine, but hurry. I’m taking you home where I can fuck you senseless in every one of your rooms. Oh, and I’m bringing rope.”
Why did that make my heart beat so fast? Going home would be good. We’d be alone in the car, where he couldn’t distract me with sex, and we could talk. Perfect. I used the toilet, fluffed my hair, righted my clothes.
Then I made him wait.