Hold On To Me

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Simone tossed the file Ryan had given her on her bed, closed the laptop on her lap, and raked her hands through her hair. She’d read the file ten times, had researched until her eyes hurt, and was still having trouble processing the information.

Steve had been a Cypher. He wasn’t an innocent victim. He’d known what he was getting himself into. And regardless of what had happened to him, whether he’d died of cancer or something more sinister—which she still didn’t totally believe—the angry truth was that he’d known the people he associated with would never truly leave them alone. He’d known what he was dragging her and their child into the moment he’d asked her to run away with him.

She shifted the laptop to the bed and rose, unable to sit anymore. Brushing the hair back from her face, she looked out at the darkening lake beyond her second floor window. Dusk was settling in, robbing the lake and trees and sky of color, turning everything to a drab gray chill she felt settle deep in her bones.

She hadn’t known Steve. Not the real him. That he could have kept something so big from her wasn’t just a blow to the sternum, it was a blast to her pride and the carefully constructed life she’d built for her and Shannon. But what really stung, what truly cut through her like a hot, sharp knife was the reality that she’d given up her life for someone she hadn’t even been in love with, all while the man she did love was suffering because she couldn’t be honest about her feelings.

Anger simmered under her skin, then turned to a bitter misery that sank into her bones when she thought of Mitch’s face the night she’d come back from DC and told him she didn’t love him. Of how angry he’d been last night, when she’d pulled away in that fire lookout after kissing him. Of the dozens of times over the last few months he’d told her he loved her, and she’d kissed him to shut him up or changed the subject entirely because she was too afraid of what might happen.

She closed her eyes, hating the truth. Hating that she couldn’t change it. It already had happened. He was in this nightmare. And if nothing else, she knew now he wasn’t getting away from it. If these people could get to Steve in the witness protection program, they could get to Mitch through her. And if there was ever anyone she should give up her life for, who deserved that kind of sacrifice, it was him.

One tiny burst of hope bubbled up through the murky darkness, forcing her eyes open. There was one way she could fix this. One way to make at least one small part of this right. Maybe she couldn’t protect him from what Steve had done, but pretending she didn’t care wasn’t working. There was a slim chance that if he knew how she felt, if he knew she wasn’t just trying to protect herself, that she could convince him to disappear like she’d tried to get him to do after his house had been destroyed. It was a long shot, but at this point, it was the only one she had left.

She opened the door quietly and peered out into the hall. The space was empty, but voices drifted up the stairs from the kitchen. Ryan’s, Kate’s, Kendrick’s, but no Mitch. Nerves humming, she moved quietly down the hall and stopped when she reached his bedroom door.

He could have left, but she doubted it. Ryan wouldn’t have let him leave knowing his life could be in danger. She lifted her hand to knock, then thought better of it. She didn’t want to give him any reason to tell her to get lost, and she didn’t need anyone downstairs knowing what she was about to do.

Her hand closed around the door handle, and she turned it. Quietly, she moved into his room and closed the door behind her.

The bedrooms were all similar, suites rather than simple guest rooms. Mitch’s room looked the same as hers but a little bigger—a king-size bed made of knotty pine, two matching nightstands and lamps, a dresser, and a flat-screen TV on the wall. But unlike her room, there was no half-packed suitcase, no clothes thrown across the bed, no sign he was planning to run. Like she was.

She closed the door at her back and looked around. The lights were off, only dwindling moonlight through the sliding glass doors that faced the lake illuminating the space. The bed was untouched, the room empty.

Her heart dropped, and she leaned back against the door, forcing back the defeat. He must have been downstairs after all. She could wait, but she didn’t know how long he’d be. And if he decided to leave before she had a chance to talk to him—

The sliding door across the room pulled open, and a burst of cool air whoosh in just before Mitch. Darkness and the hoodie over his head made it hard to see his face, but her breath caught when she saw the way his shoulders stiffened at the sight of her.

He tugged the hood of his sweatshirt off, turned and looked behind him, then pinned her with an irritated look, one she’d seen too many times over the last few days. “I think you have the wrong room.”

He was still pissed. And he had every right to be. But instead of running from it, she knew it was time to face the fire.

Hands shaking, she forced herself to step away from the door and move farther into the room. “I-I need to talk to you.”

“No, you don’t.” He shut the slider and crossed the room, heading for the closet on the far side. “We don’t have anything left to talk about.”

But they did. So much. She moved closer to the bed. “Mitch.” God, how did she start this? “I wasn’t honest with you. About…way too many things. I should have told you what was going on right from the start but I-I was scared. I thought that by not telling you, I was doing the right thing.”

He huffed from inside the walk-in closet. A thump echoed, followed by fabric rustling. “Sweetheart, you don’t know what the right thing is.”

No, she didn’t. He was right about that. But she knew this was better than what she’d done yesterday. And the day before that. “I never wanted to hurt you. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s the truth. I’ve lived under this shadow so long, I think I forgot how to open up and really let people in. You’re the only person I let get close, and it scared me because… Because part of me was afraid something like this would happen someday. I never wanted you to get sucked into this.”

She couldn’t see him, and she couldn’t hear him moving around in the closet anymore, but she needed him to come out and listen to her.

“Mitch.” She sighed, feeling lost, helpless…desperate. “I didn’t lie to you because I was trying to hurt you. I lied because I was trying to protect you.”

He emerged from the closet, barefoot, wearing only low slung faded denim jeans, dim light glinting off his muscular chest. But instead of the carefree, laid-back man she’d come to expect, this one was fire and malice and clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with her. “Why the hell do people think I need protecting? Do I have imbecile stamped on my forehead? I don’t need you or Ryan or anyone else looking out for me. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been getting along just fine by myself for thirty-six years.”

“I know you have. That’s not what I—”

“And I don’t need you coming in here telling me things that don’t even matter anymore.” He stalked by her, yanked open the dresser, and pulled out a gray T-shirt.

“But it does matter.” She tore her gaze from a body she knew almost as well as her own and stepped around the bed, blocking his path to the door, just in case that was where he was headed next. “I’m trying to tell you that I was wrong. I’m trying to tell you that I know I shouldn’t have lied to you yesterday or last week, or all those months we were together. But mostly I’m trying to tell you that…”

A lump formed in the middle of her throat, and she swallowed hard, her nerves suddenly jumping with what she was about to say. But it was time she got it out. Time she stopped hiding from it. “I’m trying to tell you that I love you. I was just too afraid before. Too afraid something bad was going to happen and that I was going to put you in danger somehow. But I was wrong. If I’d told you the truth sooner, maybe we could have avoided”—she lifted her hands and dropped them—“this. Maybe things would be different, now and you’d be somewhere safe, away from this entire mess.”

He stared at her in the dimly lit room, his eyes narrowed, his jaw hard. Moonlight cascaded over his chiseled shoulders, highlighting muscles and planes she’d touched and licked and kissed so many times she’d lost count. But he didn’t say anything. And in the silence, her nerves ticked up even more, because this wasn’t the reaction she’d hoped for. It wasn’t even one she’d anticipated.

“You love me,” he finally said in a low voice.

She swallowed again, because he wasn’t stepping toward her, wasn’t reaching for her, wasn’t even trying to bridge a gap hours ago he would have attempted to bridge. “Yes.”

“That’s rich, because you didn’t love me last night. You didn’t love me when I brought Shannon back to you, and you sure as hell didn’t love me when you came home from that trip to DC. In fact, I’m pretty sure your words were ‘I don’t love you.’ What we had wasn’t love, Simone; it was just good sex and nothing more.”

Panic pushed in. A panic that told her she wasn’t going to be able to make this right. She took another step toward him. “That’s not true. I’ve loved you for a long time. Ever since you stood in the middle of my bedroom and announced that you wanted to buy a stupid minivan. I just…I was afraid to tell you. But I was going to. I planned to tell you the night I came back from DC, but then I got that call from Will, and I…I freaked out. All I could think about was getting Shannon somewhere safe, and I knew if I filled you in on what was happening, you would have come with us. But I didn’t want you to do that. Don’t you get it? I didn’t want you to put your life in danger because of me. So I lied. I told you I didn’t care, and I knew as soon as I got the words out they were wrong, but you were so mad and you wouldn’t listen, and then all of this happened and—”

“Oh, so now it’s all my fault?” His eyes widened, and he pressed both hands against his bare chest, the shirt still clutched between his fingers. “That makes sense. Blame this all on me now.”

He had every right to be angry with her, but Simone’s own temper was inching up every second he wouldn’t listen. “I’m not trying to blame you, you jerk. I’m trying to talk some sense into you. You heard everything Ryan said down there. You know what kind of people are after me. I won’t be able to handle it if something happens to you because of me. I’m asking you—I’m begging you—just please disappear for a while, until I can figure out what it is they want. You don’t have to be a part of this anymore.”

Shock raced over his features. “You want me to run?”

“It’s not running. It’s being smart. It’s being safe.”

A defiant look filled his eyes. “I’m not tucking my tail and running like a coward.”

Like you.

She heard the words loud and clear. As loud as if he’d screamed them. Her blood ran cold, and what little hope she’d had of trying to talk some sense into him withered and died. But the anger—the resentment she’d lived with for far too long—was still there. Bubbling to the surface after everything she’d endured.

“You don’t have a clue what it means to live for someone else, Mitch. If you did, you’d know running doesn’t always mean you’re weak. And it doesn’t make you a coward when it’s protecting the people you love.”

She turned for the door. She was done trying to reason with him. Done feeling guilty. She couldn’t physically make him do something he didn’t want to do, and it hurt too much to sit back and watch him put his life on the line for something she could save him from. The only thing she had left to do was get to Shannon then, yes, run, at least until she could figure out what it was the Feds thought she had that was so important.

“News flash.” His hand slapped against the door, preventing her from escaping. “Running from the man you supposedly love doesn’t make you strong, Simone.” He grasped her upper arm and jerked her around to face him. “And yes, you are a coward because even though you’re standing here professing your so-called love for me, you’re still holding back.”

Her eyes widened. She yanked her arm from his grip. “Holding what back? I’ve told you everything.”

“You’ve told me what you think I want to hear. Not the truth. Not what’s really eating at you.”

Simone stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “The fact I love you isn’t enough? The fact I still love you, even after you slept with someone else hours after we broke up, isn’t enough for you?”

“No, it’s not. If you really want me to disappear, then tell me the truth. All of it. Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”

“I already told you,” she sputtered.

She tried to move away, but he blocked her path. “Just say it. Say the real reason you’re always running from me, from us.”

“I’m not running. I…” She braced her palms against his chest and tried to push him away, but he was like a solid rock, immovable. He was too big. Too close. Her head felt light. Her pulse raced. Sweat slicked her skin but did nothing to cool her down.

“I don’t need this,” she fumbled. “I don’t need you trying to make me feel things I don’t want to feel. My life was just fine before I met you. It was structured and ordered and…and I never had to depend on anyone but me. Can’t you see what you’ve done? You’ve made my life messy. You’ve made me messy. I had everything under control until you came along, and now I’m a complete disaster. And I don’t like it. I can’t control it. I can’t control you, and I don’t want to need you, dammit. Every time I’ve ever needed someone, they haven’t been there for me, even you. So just…just back off already and stop…fucking…pushing me.”

She shoved hard, and he finally stumbled back a step. Chest heaving, she took several breaths in the hopes it would calm her raging temper.

Several seconds passed in silence. Then reality hit, followed by a tidal wave of embarrassment. Oh shit, had she really said all those things?

“I didn’t sleep with that girl.”

Simone’s heart stuttered. Unsure if she’d heard him right, she lifted her head, but instead of the fire she’d seen burning in his green eyes moments before, now they were smoky, focused, and just a little bit unsure. “You… What?”

“I didn’t sleep with her. I was going to. I was so pissed at you, I thought if I could fuck her, it would prove I was over you. But when it came down to it”—he clenched his jaw—“I sent her home.”

She had to be hearing things. The Mitch who’d just laid into her moments before couldn’t possibly be saying this to her now. “Wh-why?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

Apparently, she did. Her brain felt like it was short-circuiting. Somehow she’d gone from professing her love, to screaming at him, to confessing her biggest fear—one she hadn’t even known was at the root of everything. “Um, yeah. Right now I think I do.”

His eyes softened just a touch, just enough to tell her…he still felt something, even if it was only a fraction of what he used to feel for her. “Because she wasn’t you.”

The room spun. And the blood pumping in Simone’s veins turned to a roar in her ears. Her body moved on instinct, before her mind even cued in to where she was going. Her limbs felt like lead weights, but she closed the distance between them and reached for him, needing the connection, needing to touch him, needing…him. “Mitch…”

“Dammit, Simone.” He caught her before she fell. His arms slid around her waist. Her fingers found his shoulders, his neck, threaded into the curls at his nape. Then his body was plastered to hers, his head angling down, his mouth closing over hers in a kiss that stole her breath.

She couldn’t think. Didn’t want to worry about an hour from now or tomorrow or next week. She only wanted him. Her fingers tightened in his hair. Her mouth turned greedy against his. She brushed her tongue over his, again and again, feeling the flames of desire building inside her. Feeling the cracks in her heart slowly mend with every brush and lick and nip and stroke.

He pushed her back against the door until the solid wood pressed up against her spine and his body plastered against her front. He angled his head the other way, kissed her deeper. One hand fisted in her hair, the other slid down her side, under her sweater, brushing the bare skin of her belly.

Every nerve ending came to life. Every inch of skin tingled. She lifted her chin so she could taste more of him, pushed her chest out in invitation so he would touch her. His hand streaked up her rib cage, sending tingles everywhere, then closed over her breast, squeezing through the soft satin of her bra while he continued to feast on her mouth.

Just when she was about to scream that it wasn’t enough, he jerked away from her, grasped her sweater at the hem, and yanked it over her head. Cool air washed over her skin, but it was replaced by his warm, solid, muscular chest pushing into hers all over again.

His mouth attacked hers with a fierceness she’d never experienced from him. Warm. Wet. So damn erotic. As if he were starved. As if he were possessed. As if he couldn’t get enough. His hands rushed down her back, over her ass, then under. She felt the heat of his groin, heard the brush of denim against denim as she kissed him, and then he was pulling her away from the door, lifting her in his arms, carrying her…she didn’t care where, so long as he didn’t stop.

Her palms grazed the scruff on his cheeks, her fingers toyed with the silky soft locks of his chestnut hair. He hitched her to his side, somehow freed one hand and unclasped her bra. Air whooshed over her bare back, and then her spine hit the mattress. He yanked her bra free. Startled, she looked up and caught his blazing gaze just before he lowered his head and laved his tongue over her right nipple. Electrical vibrations rocked her body, but in that one look, her pulse thundered and every hesitation she’d had about telling him she loved him disappeared into the ether.

“Mitch…”

“Don’t tell me to stop,” he said against her breast.

“I wasn’t. I won’t. Just…” She grasped his head, lifted her torso from the mattress, tugged his face back to hers, and kissed him, hard. He growled deep in his throat, his hands turning greedy, his fingers fumbling with the button on her jeans. At her hip, she felt his erection, already thick and hard, pressing against her. Her hands rushed down his sides, to the denim at his hips. Tangling her tongue with his, she pushed at his waistband, desperate to free him, to feel him, to make him hers once more.

She never should have walked away from him. She’d been stupid to think she ever could. Losing him had hurt a thousand times worse than losing Steve ever had, and now she knew why. Because he was the one. He was hers. He was everything that had been missing in her life for far too long.

“Mitch…” She nipped at his bottom lip, sucked it between her own, tasting him and a desperation that ignited a searing burn in her core. “I need…”

“What?” His hand slipped inside her jeans. “What do you need?”

His fingers found her sex, traced the line of her slit, drew her wetness up, then circled her clit until she saw stars.

“Oh God.” She pulled her mouth from his, closed her eyes, opened her legs to give him more room.

His teeth nipped at her jaw. He kissed his way across her throat. Pressed his lips against the soft, sensitive spot behind her ear until she shivered. His fingers continued to circle and swirl, then slid lower, until one thick digit pressed inside. “Tell me what you need.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. She was a burning inferno on the edge of combustion.

She turned her face back to his and lifted toward his mouth. “You. Just you. Now.”

His hands turned wild. He pulled away from her lips and stripped her of her jeans in one swift move. Gasping at the rush of cool air washing over her body, she pressed her palms against the mattress and tried to look up. But all she could see was him—blazing eyes, flushed cheeks, quivering muscles straining, all for her.

She wanted to tell him what he meant to her. Wanted him to know this wasn’t just sex, that it was more, that he was more. But she couldn’t find the words. And then he was there, pushing between her legs, lowering his hard body to hers, capturing her mouth with his own and robbing her of all ability to think as the thick head of his cock found her opening and he pressed deep inside.

Her eyes rolled back. Pleasure radiated outward from her center. She gripped his shoulders, lifted her hips so he could slide deeper, and groaned at the exquisite feel.

He thrust deep, retreated, thrust again.

Simone dragged her hands down his back, lifted her hips, and grasped his firm ass in her palms. “Oh…

She was in heaven. In hell. She needed to let go. Didn’t ever want it to end. Lifting her mouth back to his, she flicked her tongue against his as he plunged deep, gave herself over to him with every rock and glide, hoping he could feel with her desperation what she couldn’t express with her words.

He hit that perfect spot. Sweat slicked his skin, dripped onto hers. The slap of flesh echoed through the room, mixing with their moans and the wet slide of their mouths fusing together.

The blaze inside her built to a roaring inferno. She lifted her hips, encouraging him to drive deeper, harder, to make longer strokes. He picked up her cues, knew her body so well, knew exactly what she needed and how to get her there.

He fisted the comforter in one hand, braced his other against the mattress near her head. Her fingers dug into his hips as he filled her again and again, as she moaned, as he kissed her with his rough, greedy mouth until she couldn’t take any more.

White light blinded her. The orgasm tore through her pelvis and exploded in every cell. She wrenched her mouth from his and cried out, unable to think, unable to move, unable to do anything but feel.

Him. Just him. Not pain, not loss, not heartache. Just a shimmering bliss she’d always felt only with him.

His body stiffened, grew tight and hot and hard. Then every muscle strained, and he groaned long and deep in his throat, consumed by his own release. And his climax sent a second current of pleasure arcing through Simone’s entire body. This one wasn’t quite as intense as the first, but just as mind-numbing and so utterly sweet, her entire body shook with satisfaction.

He collapsed against her, a sweaty, slick mess of man she couldn’t get enough of. She closed her arms around him and pulled him close. Her hands slid into his hair, and she twirled the silky locks around her fingers, not wanting to think, not wanting to plan, just wanting to go on feeling…nothing but this.

His hot breath fell across her overheated skin, making her flesh prickle. Several heartbeats passed in silence before he said, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

The first semi-smile she’d felt in days tugged at her mouth. Hurt? He had to be kidding. “No. Definitely not.”

He pushed up on one hand and looked down at her. But instead of the sated, relaxed, playful guy he always was after sex, his eyes were hard, his jaw was tight, and the way he was studying her made her feel like he was double-checking that fact as if he didn’t believe her.

A slow chill replaced the warmth she’d just been feeling. He pushed off her without a word, the bed dipping with his movements, then disappeared into the bathroom.

Simone’s heart beat hard as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what had just happened. She’d gone from content to unsure in a matter of seconds. Outside, a light snow began to fall, but it didn’t lend a dreamy quality to the room. If anything, it made her feel even colder, and she shivered.

She replayed the last few moments in her mind. Sure Mitch had been angry, but they’d had emotionally-charged make-up sex several times after an argument, and he’d never once cut her after with that cold, assessing, almost detached look she’d seen in his eyes just now.

Then her mind flashed back to his words. “What we had wasn’t love; it was just good sex and nothing more.” Words he’d said before she’d thrown herself at him and all but begged him to make love to her.

Except…that wasn’t making love. Not with the way he’d rolled off her as fast as he could. That was sex, just like he’d said.

She sat up quickly, reached for her underwear from the floor, and tugged it on. She didn’t bother with her bra—her hands were shaking too much to get it clasped—just yanked on her sweater and looked for her pants.

The door to the bathroom opened as she was pulling her shirt down. “What are you doing?” Mitch asked.

There was a hint of surprise in his voice, but she wasn’t letting it stop her. Her fingers closed around the denim, and she lifted her jeans from the floor where he’d tossed them only minutes ago. “Getting dressed.”

She shook the jeans out in front of her, ready to step into them, but his hand captured one leg and pulled them from her hand. “You’re running again?”

“I’m not running.”

“Sure looks like it to me.”

She reached for her pants, but he held them out of her reach. Exasperated, she turned to face him. “What’s the big deal? You’re not exactly acting like you want me to stay.”

“You decided that in what, two minutes? While I was in the bathroom?”

“I don’t have to have a master’s degree in geology like you to predict when a landslide’s about to happen.” She reached for her pants again, but he twisted them behind his back. “Mitch, you’re being childish.”

“Sorta like you streaking out the door as soon as my back is turned.”

Her jaw clenched. She drew a deep breath to keep from lashing out, but it did little to settle her nerves. Dammit, she didn’t know what the hell to do. Or say. Everything she said or did lately just made things worse. “Mitch—”

“What if I said I wanted you to stay?”

The air grew thick around her. Slowly, because she didn’t want to read too much into his words, she looked up. Irritation still lingered in his gaze, but there was something else in his green eyes. A softness. A worry. A confusion she felt in the bottom of her soul and which she was still trying to work out in her own head. “Is that what you’re saying?”

He pressed his lips together and slowly lowered her pants to his side. He was wearing nothing but loose gray sweats, his muscular chest reflecting the little light coming from the windows, and though it was foolish, her heart skipped a beat as she waited for his answer.

“I want you to stay. If you want to stay, that is.”

Warmth bloomed all through her chest. He still didn’t seem completely sure, but he was right. She had been running. And she needed to stop doing that. If by staying she could try to bridge this gap between them and somehow even convince him to disappear for a while, then swallowing her pride—and her fear—was worth it. “Then…I want to stay.”

A whisper of relief crossed his features, and seeing it made her pulse beat even faster. He dropped her jeans on a nearby chair, moved for the bed, and pulled the covers back.

More self-conscious than she’d ever felt before, she tugged the sweater down and carefully slid between the sheets. She moved over to her side of the bed, but he climbed in next to her, pulled the covers up, then lifted an arm over her head and tugged her close to the warmth of his body.

Her hand pressed against his chest. The soft fabric of his sweats brushed her bare legs as his thigh pushed between both of hers. She closed her eyes on reflex as his heat seeped through her sweater and into her skin. He smelled of him, of her, of sex, and her body responded with a host of tingles that started in her limbs and raced to her core.

“Mitch, we still need to talk about—”

“I’m tired, Simone.” His voice was weary but soft. And in the darkness, he held her close, not letting her move away. “Let’s just sleep now. We can talk about everything tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

It sounded like a good idea, but something inside Simone wasn’t so sure.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, his voice already drifting off.

She just didn’t know what the hell either of them was going to say tomorrow that they hadn’t already said tonight.