The storm stalked them from California to Nevada, thunderclouds darkening the early-evening sky. No rain yet, but it would come.
As the bright lights of his family’s compound came into view, a sense of peace washed over Nick. The mountains rose up behind the property set on five acres, and to the east was a partial view of the Vegas strip in the distance.
There was no safer place on earth for Lori. He’d imagined bringing her here during his conversations with his mother. What it would be like having her in his childhood home, surrounded by people who knew him best. Sharing the other side of himself with her.
But none of his delusions had been under such horrible circumstances. It was the dose of reality he needed.
The drone of the helicopter’s engine had smothered his anger and quieted his mind on the ride. If he thought of Lori only as a witness, then it was possible to keep his emotions in check and his perspective objective. So that was what he decided to do.
Bo landed on the helipad and shut the chopper down. As the rotor blades slowed, Nick took Lori’s hand and helped her climb out. The small touch sent electricity firing across his nerves, wreaking havoc on his brain.
As long as he didn’t touch her, he might be able to think of her as only a witness.
Nick broke the physical contact between them, and the striking loss of heat was immediate. She drew in a sharp breath, her shadowed gaze capturing his, and wet her lips.
Had she felt it, too, that spark of connection?
His pulse pounded in his veins for reasons that had nothing to do with danger.
He paused to take in the sight of her set against the backdrop of his family home. Those doe eyes, her fine-boned features, that pale, rose-colored mouth he longed to kiss until they were both breathless. Even though they were outside, the space around him seemed to shrink, condensing to her. She was everything he’d always desired, and he wanted her.
Not only to have her in his bed and appease this craving that was as terrific as it was terrible, but also he wanted her to be his, to hold and protect and love.
Maybe he was fooling himself to think objectivity with Lori was possible, or maybe loving her made him a fool.
He wished he could tell the difference. The one thing there was no denying—he wasn’t just crazy about Lori Carpenter. He loved her.
It was the only explanation for his jealousy over Vargas and why her past grated on him.
Coming up alongside them, Bo whistled. “So you’re the hottie my brother is sweet on.”
Nick squirmed on the inside but didn’t dare let Bo see it. “I never called you that. Not that you’re not attractive.” Lori was a knockout, but it wasn’t her beauty that had stolen his heart.
The ache in his chest returned at the thought of her with Vargas. He wanted to strangle the man.
Lori blushed, her gaze lowering.
“In his defense,” Bo said, “he never referred to you as a hottie to our mother.”
Her eyes and her brows lifted. “You talked to your mother about me?”
Nick elbowed his brother in the ribs to keep his mouth shut. “I may have mentioned you in vague terms, once or twice.”
Bo laughed. “Yeah, once or twice. Anyway, Nick only falls for hotties. So we all assumed.”
“Your family has talked about me?” Lori asked, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Once or twice. Come on,” Bo said, spurring them to walk to the house. “The moment I told Mom that you were bringing your witness here, she went to the kitchen and started cooking. I’m sure she’s got a feast waiting inside. Hope you’re both hungry.”
“I’m starving,” Lori said.
Nick’s appetite had also returned with a vengeance.
“Good,” Bo said. “Because not eating would offend her.”
They ascended the front steps to the wide wraparound porch.
Bo marched inside with his usual bravado. “They’re here!”
Nick ushered Lori inside ahead of him and closed the door. The large house smelled of turmeric and coriander and saffron. Scents he equated with safety and love.
Whenever he came back home, after he’d decided to carve his own path separate from his family, it was always strange but comforting at the same time. Like putting on your favorite pair of worn-in shoes that no longer fit.
Speaking of which, he pulled off his still-wet shoes and socks and put them in the row of other footwear by the door. Bo did the same and Lori followed suit.
His mother, Pamela Maadi-McKenna, drifted into the foyer barefoot, wearing a long kaftan in a dramatic print of jewel colors, mostly sapphire and emerald, her jet-black hair in a messy-chic top knot. She always made flawless perfection look effortless.
Lori did, as well. She didn’t have to try. Sans makeup, windswept hair, sweats that hugged her lean, curvy frame, she was absolutely stunning.
His mother wrapped him in a tight hug, then kissed his cheeks three times. She bracketed his face with her palms and looked at him as if she hadn’t seen him in years.
“You did right to come home,” his mother said, bypassing pleasantries and lightening his heavy spirit with the very first words from her mouth.
Mom swung her bright-eyed attention to Lori like Nick was now yesterday’s news. “Welcome.” She clutched Lori’s arms and kissed her cheeks. “I’m Pam.”
“Lori. Nick talks about his family all the time with such great affection. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for allowing me to come. I’m sorry to put you through all this trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.” Mom took Lori’s hand and held it between both of hers.
Lori threw him a questioning glance. He hadn’t thought to explain his mother’s peculiar ways before they had entered the house.
Flashing a shallow grin, he shrugged.
His mother stood there, smiling at Lori, holding her hand, doing her thing that made newcomers uneasy at the five-second mark based on the comments and questions that came afterward.
Explaining why his mother held someone’s hand while staring at them in silence didn’t help. In fact, it tended to push the awkward meter closer to unsettling. Girlfriends declined to come back to the house. Not that he’d brought anyone home in nearly a decade.
Pamela Maadi-McKenna had a gift. He wasn’t sure what to call it. His father had said she had a sixth sense. Could touch a person and tell things about them.
She shook my hand, stared in my eyes for ten seconds, his dad had said, and told me that she didn’t mean to scare me, but that I was the love of her life, that we were going to get married on a beautiful spring day, have three children and be happy. I thought she was a sandwich short of a picnic at the time, but she was so gosh-darn gorgeous and confident. Instead of running for the hills, I asked her out on a date, and it was the best decision of my life. Always listen to your mother, boy.
Nick clasped his mother’s shoulder and gave a squeeze that signaled please stop. “Whatever you cooked smells delicious.”
“Yes, yes,” his mother said, taking the hint and releasing Lori’s hand. She gave his cheek a pat. “Show Lori to the bathroom so she can freshen up and we’ll eat.” His mother drifted off to the kitchen.
Nick guided Lori down the hall. “I’m sorry about my mom.”
“Sorry about what?”
“Her holding your hand and staring at you. I promise she’s not crazy.”
“I didn’t mind. I liked it. A very warm, intimate way to greet someone.”
It was intimate all right, bordering on invasive, but it pleased him that she felt welcomed because he knew that she would be. He stopped in front of the bathroom. “Take your time. Mom keeps basic toiletries in the cabinet. The dining room is through there.” He pointed to his right. “You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks. I’ll only be a minute.” She held his gaze a moment, and he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the right words. Then she closed the door.
He went the way he’d indicated and found Bo talking to his sister Julie.
“Hey, Jules.” Nick hugged his little sister, relaxing a little more. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be in or out skip tracing.”
“Just finished an hour ago. We had a guy jump bail, but when I heard your mysterious witness that you’ve been safeguarding for a year was coming, I couldn’t miss the chance to meet her. Kicked down the right doors, knocked around the right heads and found him. So where is she?” Jules’s eyes danced like those of a giddy teenager.
“Bathroom.” Nick figured it was best to address the elephant in the room before it turned and stampeded him. “Look, I don’t know what Mom told you guys, but Lori is not my girlfriend. She’s just a witness. Let’s keep it professional.”
Jules winked. “Right, sure. Professional.” Her gaze lifted somewhere behind him and by the gigantic grin spreading on his sister’s face, he guessed Lori had entered the room. “Hi, I’m Julie,” she said, shoving him to the side, “but everyone calls me Jules. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Jules hugged Lori and thankfully gave her room to breathe.
“I’m Lori. It’s nice to meet you, as well.”
His mom came in and set platters down on the set table. “Let’s eat. Lori, please.” She gestured to a seat beside her.
Everyone sat. His mother outdid herself preparing all his favorites. Kabobs, fesenjoon, kashke bademjan—eggplant dip—tamarind-stuffed fish, saffron rice, dolmeh, stuffed grape leaves, and yogurt cucumber sauce with rose petals.
“This spread is incredible,” Lori said.
“Thank you.” His mother encouraged her to help herself.
The table hung in quiet anticipation waiting for Lori to taste the food.
“Oh, my God. This is beyond delicious, Mrs. McKenna. I can see where Nick gets his love of food. I wish I’d had this growing up.”
“Call me Pam, please. I’m happy you like it.”
“Love it.” Lori practically had a food orgasm with each bite.
Nick couldn’t help but wonder what face she’d make with him buried deep inside her, writhing in pleasure as he brought her to the brink and pulled her back before letting her orgasm.
Lowering his gaze, he shook the wicked thought from his head.
“Red wine?” his mom offered, and when Lori nodded, she filled her glass and passed the bottle.
“I have to tell you what an amazing son you’ve raised,” Lori said between bites. “I owe him my life. He’s the bravest, most honest man I’ve ever met and is kind enough to share his food with me. Doesn’t get much better than that.” She turned her sparkling gaze to him, and he wished the circumstances, all around, had been different.
“Keeping you alive is my job,” Nick said, his tone harsher than he’d intended.
“But sharing your food with me wasn’t. Or your mom’s recipes.”
“Really?” his mom asked. “Nick never seems interested in cooking here at home.”
“We cooked all the time together. Three or four times a week. But I have to confess, the fesenjoon we made wasn’t half as good.”
His mother gave him a knowing look and smiled at his scowl. She liked Lori a lot. It was hard for anyone not to.
“So how’s the bounty-hunting business going?” Nick asked, eager to change the subject.
“Good.” Bo stuffed more food into his mouth.
“What else did you and Nick do together tucked away in a safe house for a year?” Jules waggled her eyebrows.
“We talked a lot, went jogging, played board games, watched movies, but cooking was the best.”
It had been the best. That was when they swapped childhood stories. Hers had been dark and his had been complicated, but happy. It was the most sharing he’d ever done in any relationship.
“What was Nick like as a kid? Saint or hellion?”
Glances passed between his family members. “Hellion,” they all said together.
Nick grimaced. “Lori doesn’t want to hear about that.”
“But I do.” Her eyes shone with curiosity.
“Well then, I don’t want to hear about it,” Nick snapped. “Okay?”
Blessed silence.
Everyone ate and Nick hoped no one spoke another word during the entire meal.
Of course, it only took two minutes before his mother said, “Lori, what do you do?”
“I’m an—”
“She can’t talk about it,” Nick interrupted, and his mother responded with a glare of daggers.
“You all have your mom’s coloring and soulful eyes,” Lori said. “I’ve seen pictures of your dad, and I can see the resemblance in the boys, but Jules, you’re a spitting image of your mom. So beautiful.”
“Thank you!” Jules sat a little taller in her chair. “I love you already. I can see what Nick sees in you.”
“So can I,” his mother said.
Did his mom mean that in the way a regular person would, or had she seen something?
He’d learned long ago it was best not to wonder and certainly not to ask.
Forks finally lowered to the plates as the last of the wine was poured.
“Nicky,” his mother said. “Help me in the kitchen with dessert.”
They cleared the table of the platters of food and plates.
Carrying the nine-inch hand-painted gilded plates that had been set out, he joined his mother at the counter in front of his favorite dessert. The most delicious thing in the world. A three-layered chocolate cake with ganache and mascarpone pistachio filling.
She only made it on his birthday. A time for celebration. But he wasn’t feeling festive.
“What is wrong with you? Why are you so cranky?” she asked.
“Cranky? What am I, a damn toddler?”
“Language.”
“Sorry.” He hung his head. “It’s been a tough day. I’ve earned the right to be grumpy.”
“You both look like you’ve been through hell. But I don’t understand you. For a year you’ve talked to me about the woman sitting in the other room. Fifty-two conversations about all the things you admire and adore about her.”
Nick shot his mother a cranky look. He’d never used the word adore. Even if he did on some level.
“You’ve never spoken about any woman with such affection. Not even that girl you married.”
Nick winced. “Mom. Don’t bring that up.” They had only been twenty-one, both of them had been drunk and wrong for each other. It had only lasted twenty-seven days. The shortest marriage in McKenna or Maadi history.
“My point is, you’re enamored,” his mother said. “I dare go so far as to say in love with her. Yet, you are so cold and distant with Lori. Why?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
She tapped him hard on the nose with two fingers.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t be such a baby,” she said, slicing the cake. “And don’t be condescending. I understand more than you think.”
“I meant you wouldn’t understand because you’re not in the USMS and have never worked with a witness.”
She cupped his cheek. “I may not be a marshal, but I am a mother.” She returned to plating the cake.
He put his hand on her forearm before she cut a fifth piece. “We only need four. I’m not having any.”
“You could use a little sweetness. Trust me on that.” She cut a fifth slice anyway. “What is wrong, azizam?” his mother asked, calling him my dear in Farsi.
“I found out some things about Lori that I’m having difficulty with.”
She clucked her tongue, plating the slices. “You’re always so hard on everyone. Expecting people to meet some impossible standard of perfection that they can’t live up to. And when they don’t, you pull away and cut them off. It’s almost as if you only want what you can’t have and once you get it, you find fault. If you continue like this, you’ll deny yourself happiness and live a lonely life.”
He had put Lori on a pedestal and crowned her with a halo when she was human and fallible the same as him. Rather than showing her compassion when she was at her most vulnerable, baring her soul, he’d gifted her with anger and jealousy. Completely disregarded how she’d been manipulated and used.
Nick gritted his teeth, hating himself.
“I have sat with her, touched her, read her.” His mother let that sink in. “Lori has a good heart. And it is plain to see that she loves you. Have you ever done anything that you’ve regretted, that you were ashamed of?”
Horrible things. Things he’d shared with Lori and she hadn’t turned her back on him or judged him. She’d shown him affection and acceptance instead. Love.
“I thought so,” his mother said, wagging a finger.
“Did you read me? Is that how you know?” He stiffened, hoping she hadn’t.
“No, azizam. I didn’t have to. We’ve all done things that we regret. That bring us some measure of shame. The choices you two have made, the roads you’ve each taken, have led you both here, together. It’s okay to be a fool for love, so long as you are not a damn fool.”
The difference suddenly struck him, and he had his answer. “Mom, language.”
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Help me serve dessert.”
They carried the cake into the dining room, where Bo was pouring brandy and Lori was laughing with his siblings. The sound of her joy warmed his heart.
He had all the people he cared about most in the world in one room and somehow, he’d been too narrow sighted to enjoy it.
“Nicky, why don’t you and Lori eat outside?” his mother said. “Enjoy the view and the fresh air.”
LORI TOOK NICK’S nod to his mother’s suggestion as a hopeful sign. He’d been tense and terse during dinner. The opposite of what she’d expected.
They strolled out onto the porch and sat side by side on the patio sofa. Another hopeful sign. Watching the storm roll in, lightning flickering in the distance, the low rumble of thunder, the air heavy with the promise of rain, they ate dessert and drank brandy together the way they had so many times at the safe house without the alcohol.
Tomorrow she’d testify, and they’d go their separate ways. She didn’t know if she’d have an opportunity to tell him all the things in her heart after she took the stand, much less in private. This was her chance and she was going to take it. “Nick, you’re the first real thing in my life. Our friendship. What I feel for you. The happiness, the safety, the...love. It’s all real for me.”
He set his plate and brandy glass down. “I think I know why you fell for your husband and didn’t see that Dante was evil.”
She braced for some harsh retort, her stomach muscles clenching. All the men in her life had disappointed her, ultimately objectifying her and not seeing her as good enough. To receive the same rejection from Nick, in his home, surrounded by his caring family, might be more than she could handle.
But he took her hand in his, brushing his fingers across her knuckles, like they were a couple, bound together by more than his job. “They were abusers, like your dad. Their tactics were subtle and insidious at first. That’s why you didn’t see it. I know Vargas is a psychotic scumbag because I’m trained to see it. It’s my job to know, but it wasn’t yours.”
“A part of me realizes that I was set up and manipulated. But another part feels like I should’ve seen it coming. Or to solely blame my ex-husband and Dante is shirking responsibility.”
“The vast majority of people are happy to shirk responsibility for their mistakes and problems. Not you. But you’re not at fault for what they did to you and I shouldn’t have gotten so bent out of shape over Vargas. I was jealous.”
If only he knew how little there was for him to be jealous of. “I’m sorry for not confiding in you sooner.”
An odd vulnerability softened his eyes. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. For disappointing you when you finally tried to explain. You needed me to listen, to be the best version of myself, and instead I gave you Deputy Marshal Dredd.”
She snickered, loving him even more for owning up to it.
“Our pasts have made us who we are. It’s what brought us together. To get sidetracked by anything else is foolish. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, knowing you, falling in love with you. No matter what happens tomorrow or the day after, I need you to know that this is real.”
“I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Only about right now. Spend the night with me.” Her request dangled between them, leaving her feeling exposed.
His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Lori held her breath, waiting for his response.
He gave a sultry smile that stirred butterflies to take flight in her belly.
Pam came out onto the porch. “I know it’s been a long, exhausting day for you both. I’ve made up the bed in your room for Lori. Jules set out some things for you that should fit. Nicky, you can stay in the spare bedroom in the basement.”
“If it’s okay with Lori and you, Mom, I’d prefer to be upstairs in my room.”
Lori smiled, her cheeks turning pink. “I’d prefer that, too.”
His mother folded her arms. “I don’t know about that.”
“I’m not supposed to let her out of my sight,” Nick said, his tone matter-of-fact. “No funny business.”
“No. Funny. Business.” She wagged a finger. “Come in before it starts raining.” His mother picked up their dirty dishes and went back inside.
He waited a beat or two and said, “I’m going to make love to you. And if I do anything that remotely comes across as funny, then I’m doing it wrong.”
Lori laughed.
Cupping the back of her head, he leaned in, closed his mouth over hers in a long, lingering kiss. “Tonight I want to erase the past, everything that came before us.”
An exorcism of the darkness and a possession of something beautiful. She wanted that, too, for it to be carnal pleasure and sacred communion.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered across his lips, “but I have no intention of us getting any sleep.”
“Good. Neither do I.”
Hand in hand they entered the house. The aromatic delight from dinner was still rich in the air. Chatter came from the kitchen.
“Should we go say good-night?” she asked in a low voice.
He shook his head, giving her a sly grin, and led her upstairs.
The wall along the stairwell was filled with family pictures. Pam and his father on their wedding day, Nick with his siblings as children playing, their father teaching them how to shoot. Smiles, hugs, laughter and warmth radiated from each one. A wall of love.
Lori’s heart squeezed and she tightened her fingers around Nick’s.
At the top of the landing, she asked, “Where’s your mom’s room?”
“First floor.” He gave her a quick, light kiss. “Wait here a sec.”
Nick disappeared down the hall and crept into another room.
Lori turned to see more photos. Pam sat in a rocking chair; an older toddler stood beside her knees with his head in her lap, she held a baby in her arms and her belly was round with more life. There was a look of utter contentment on her face.
An ache blossomed in her chest. She thought about what it would be like to have Nick’s baby in her belly, in her arms. She’d never felt safe enough to ever entertain the idea of motherhood. The danger still hadn’t passed, yet if it did, this was what she wanted, children and a house full of warmth, with him.
Nick hurried back, carrying condoms, and whisked her into his room.
Before she had a chance to take in the bedroom he’d grown up in, he kicked the door shut and pulled her into his arms, his face coming down to press a kiss to her lips.
Butterflies swarmed in her belly, and her arms made their way around his neck, her fingers tangled in his thick, cool hair.
Their tongues met in an erotic slide. In the gentle cage of his arms, his hands, the pressure of his mouth, there was the sublime balance of tender roughness. His desire for her was unmistakable as well as his awareness of her comfort. He took care not to agitate her bruises while conveying the intensity of his passion.
Magic.
The smooth, slow licks of his tongue were deep and intoxicating, teasing her with the promise of what was to come. She could kiss him for hours, getting drunk on this foreplay alone. The desire for that, hours, days, a lifetime of his kisses, made her chest constrict.
He guided her to the bed in a sensual dance, their bodies swaying to music meant only for them, and lowered her down.
The evidence of his desire, the impressive thickness, nudged against her belly. Need for him pulsed between her legs.
Taking her face between his hands, he fused their mouths, pressing his tongue deep, unleashing her hunger for more intimate penetration.
When he pulled his lips away, she was left panting for breath and melting around him.
He peeled her clothing off, taking care with her injuries, and she helped him, eager to have every inch of herself exposed to his touch. “You’re so beautiful. Not just your body, but your soul. I’m so lucky.”
His words made her heart squeeze and soar at the same time.
As she stripped him, her fingers sifted through the dusting of hair on his chest, lingered on the ridges of his sculpted abs. Absorbed the heat of his bare skin. After months of flirting and wanting and craving, to finally have him was glorious.
Cupping her breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth and toyed with the other. Every wet tug of his mouth and sweep of his tongue drove her wild.
She clutched him tighter, pressed her belly to the thick, straining shaft between them, and rubbed her body against his with matching urgency.
It was like stoking a fire, and a maddening yearning took over. She was so aroused; she might die if she didn’t have him inside her.
Taking his hips, she guided him to the cleft between her thighs. “I need you.” She fumbled for a condom, ripped it open and rolled it down over his shaft.
“I wanted to get you there with my mouth first.” He nibbled on her earlobe, and she tingled at the thought.
“How about we take each other there later? I need you inside me right now. I can’t wait.”
He slid his hand to the place that ached for him; his fingers tested her readiness and spread her open.
Anticipation was a white-hot rush in her veins. The blunt tip pushed at her core, breached it, stretched her. She clutched his firm ass and pulled him into her to the hilt. He was hot and thick, and the searing kiss he gave her was a claiming. Soul to soul.
It was ecstasy.
Each slick thrust, each passionate brush of his lips, healed something inside her. Showed her what it was like to make love. To be cherished.
Agonizing need coiled tight in her core. Her whole body went taut as whimpers spilled from her, eyes squeezing shut, her nails digging into his back. She fell to pieces in his arms, doing her best to be quiet. And failing.
Just before the last rippling aftershock, he followed her over the edge. One last thrust, he stiffened and collapsed on top of her.
He held her close—his fingers in her hair, her cheek to his chest—and rolled them onto their sides, staying buried inside her.
For the first time in her life, she was completely connected to another, in every way possible. The closeness, this love, was everything she’d been missing but needed.