| |
NATE SHUT OFF THE LIGHT, pulled up the covers on the queen-sized bed, and stared at the ceiling. He hadn't left the house all day, had barely left the great room, but he was exhausted. All he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep, knowing the next day this would all be over. If their plan worked, Richard would go to visit Hunter, and the FBI would catch him in their net. Richard had kept her alive all this time. Surely, he'd keep her alive until he got his money. And once he was in custody, he'd have no choice but to tell the agents where Ana was.
It was all going to end well. Nate was sure of it. Or as close to sure as he could be, when so many things could go wrong. Things he didn't want to think about right now, when he needed to sleep. He hadn't slept well since this whole ordeal started, and who could blame him? He didn't know how Marisa was handling it.
Marisa.
They'd kissed. In that moment, he'd felt all his fears crumble away, felt all his hopes return. In that moment, he'd felt at home in a way he never had before. In that moment, he'd known he would never be the same.
But she'd pulled away. Had he ruined everything, in that moment?
What kind of a man took advantage of a woman going through the trauma Marisa was facing? He was lucky she hadn't slapped his face. There'd been no tension between them all afternoon, but what would happen when Marisa got Ana back? Would they return to Mexico? Or would she choose to live in her house in Queens and raise her daughter and leave Nate behind? Marisa didn't need Nate. Once this was all over, she'd thank him profusely and walk away.
He'd had his heart broken before. Rae'd broken it pretty soundly all those years ago. But the feelings he'd had for Rae had been nothing, nothing compared to how he felt about Marisa. Maybe the situation was making everything feel stronger. Maybe when Ana was back and there was no life-or-death situation hanging over their heads, maybe his feelings would fade.
He wouldn't count on it.
He shifted to his side and squeezed his eyes closed. He had to sleep.
But sleep wasn't coming.
A soft shuffling sounded near the door. He opened his eyes and watched in the dark as a tall, slender form moved into his room.
"Are you awake?" Marisa's voice was a whisper.
He propped up on one elbow. "Are you okay?"
"I can't sleep, and I thought...I mean...I just can't be alone."
Thank God he was wearing pajama pants.
"You want to lie down in here for a while?"
"Would you mind?"
He flipped the covers back on the opposite side of the bed, and Marisa tiptoed across the room and slipped in. "You sure it's okay?" Her voice came from the pillow. He could hardly see her face, but her dark hair lay in contrast to the white sheets. She'd taken the braid out, and he itched to run his fingers through her long strands.
He swallowed to keep his voice level, to hide the reaction the rest of him was having to her being in his bed. He shifted to face her and propped his head on his hand, as if this were a perfectly normal situation. "You want to talk, or do you just want to sleep?"
"I'm a little talked out."
"Yeah. Me, too."
"I want..."
Her voice trailed off, but he understood. "Turn toward the wall, okay?"
She did, and he settled behind her—close, but not too close—and wrapped his arm around her. He could feel the thin cotton of her pajamas, the warmth of her skin beneath. His arm and chest picked up the rhythm of her breathing. "Is this okay?" His voice sounded husky and had probably given away too much of what was going on in his mind. In his body.
Sweet torture.
"Yeah. It's..." She sobbed, and he could feel the slight trembling of her body as she let out even more tears.
"Shh." He held her close and inhaled her scent and told himself how he'd feel in the morning if he took advantage of the situation. How he wouldn't be able to look at her. How anything more than just holding her would ruin any chance for a relationship. The reminder helped.
Her sobs didn't hurt. They brought tears to his own eyes.
A few minutes later, her crying ceased. She sniffed, relaxed. Her breathing became steady.
He kissed her hair, inhaled her scent. He made himself comfortable and settled in to sleep beside her.
* * *
LIGHT BOUNCED IN THE dark room.
Nate shifted away from Marisa, trying to figure out the light. He was crazy. It was a dream.
He closed his eyes, opened them again.
It's not a dream if your eyes are open.
The light, a beam of light. A flashlight. He started to sit up, saw a long shaft, a hand gripping the end of it. And the shaft came toward him.
He tried to shift away, but it was too late.
A flash of pain. Everything went black.