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by Maya Banks
Not so this time.
She instinctively snuggled deeper into Beau’s body, twining her legs through his so that his heat surrounded her completely. She nuzzled her cheek against his chest and then sighed in contentment as only a woman with the perfect man could do. The perfect man for her.
I chose you.
Those words, so powerful and heartrending, played over and over in her mind, soothing away the splintered fragments of pain, anger and violence.
Were there any three sweeter words to hear? She thought a moment and then acknowledged there was. Only one phrase that had more power than a man telling a woman that, out of the millions of women in the world, he chose only one. One! He chose her.
I love you.
Oh to hear those words from his lips, from his heart. To know that he meant them with every fiber of his being. She’d give anything in the world to have her heart’s desire. Her parents alive, safe, home. And Beau Devereaux’s love. If she ever were assured of those two things, she’d never ask for more.
By acknowledging the yearning from the deepest recesses of her soul, she was forced to acknowledge the depth of her own feelings. Her heart had literally been breaking apart, splintering, cracking. Piece by piece, chipped away as she’d walked—or rather tried to walk—away from him. To leave him the peace and strength of family that he deserved.
She knew how important family was. Her own family wasn’t as large as Beau’s, but it didn’t mean it was any less strong. And perhaps it was because it had always been only her, her mother, and her father, that their bond was so indestructible.
In a world where divorce was common. Where children left home at an early age. Where husbands beat wives. Spouses cheated on one another. Children were abused. Ari’s family had stood the test of time, and in fact, had strengthened—not weakened—with each passing year.
Her memories—so many wonderful, cherished memories—were so very dear to her and she prayed with all her heart that they would share many more memories to come. That she would one day give them grandchildren to protect and spoil every bit as much as they’d done with her.
Beau’s children.
The thought whispered enticingly through her damaged mind. She automatically lifted her head, seeking the reassurance that looking at his strong facial features always gave her. Her lips parted in surprise when she realized he was fully awake—had been awake for a while, because there were no cloudy remnants of sleep lingering lazily in his eyes. They were alert and aware. And they were solidly focused on her.
It was apparent she wasn’t the only one who’d been absorbed in a quiet moment of reflection. She only wished she was privy to his thoughts. She wanted so badly for her wants and desires, her hopes and dreams, to align with his. She wanted to share her life. With him. Only him.
Was she crazy to have fallen so hard and so inexplicably fast? Her brow furrowed momentarily as her perusal of Beau’s beautiful face gave way to silent contemplation of just how long, or rather how short, a time they’d even been associated.
Her only knowledge of Beau Devereaux, until just a few short days ago, was by name only. And only when, in those rare moments when her father was in a serious mood, and she’d always gotten the uneasy feeling that he was . . . afraid. Of something. Or someone. Because it was when he was in those very rare moods that he seemed to further gather his wife and daughter to him and would only separate himself from them for a few moments at most.
It was those times that he’d, out of the blue, very somberly remind Ari that if she were ever in need, ever in danger and that he wasn’t, for whatever reason, available, close or simply unable to see to his daughter’s safety and well-being, she was to immediately contact Caleb or Beau Devereaux and only in person. Not over the phone. Never to give them the opportunity to give her the brush-off, think she was nuts, or say they were booked solid.
Her father—and mother—had laughingly told her many times over the years that no one had a chance upon laying eyes on Ari’s sweet, beautiful features and that her eyes were capable of bewitching even the hardest of hearts.
She supposed that was why he’d wanted her to seek Beau out personally. Perhaps he’d been afraid that he wouldn’t help her unless she pleaded her case in person. Whatever the reason, she offered silent thanks to her father. As a result of that extracted promise, not only did she have her best chance to save her parents, but she’d also met a man who made her want to dream. A man she wanted forever with.
“What on earth are you thinking, honey?” Beau asked softly, reaching out with one finger to gently caress away the lines creasing her forehead. “Are you worried about something? Are you hurting?” he demanded, as though the thought had just occurred to him.
He was already reaching for the medicine bottle on the nightstand when she issued a hasty denial. She placed her hand on his chest to stay his motion and he reluctantly turned back to her, concern burning brightly in his eyes.
“Are you certain?” he asked in a skeptical tone. “Ari, if you hurt, you need to control the pain or risk another bleed, or God forbid, a more serious hemorrhage.”
She smiled, her heart warming to its very core over the depth of concern, both in his words and in his entire body language. She looped her arm as far around his broad chest as she was able and gave him a fierce squeeze, her attempt at a hug since they were both lying down, him on his back and her on her side nestled into the curve of his armpit.
“Hey,” he queried softly. “Not that I’m complaining at all, but what was that for? What’s going on, honey? You looked so puzzled and then worried. Your eyes were flashing as though you were processing half a dozen thoughts in that pretty head. And the very last thing you need is any kind of stress. So tell me so I can take care of it and make it better.”
She wanted to say it so badly. The words burned on her lips, begging to be set free. Instead she licked them to ease the tingling sensation. Just the thought of offering him those three little words, the most important words in the world—in her world, at least—filled her with gut-wrenching terror. And offering someone your love should never be terrifying. It should be celebrated. Embraced. A memory to savor—and hold close to your heart—forever.
But she was scared. Of rejection. Of seeing discomfort or even dismay flicker in those dark eyes. Or the worst possible reaction of all. Pity.
The very last thing she ever wanted from this man was pity. She wanted his love. His commitment. His protection. She wanted the kind of love her parents shared, and oh but she could see it so clearly with Beau. Never before had she met a man who even made her wonder if he could possibly be a man who’d measure up to her father. That she could share with him all her mother and father shared.
Wistful yearning twisted her chest and brief sadness tugged at her heart, squeezing it gently as she imagined a love like that simply . . . disappearing.
The world was a better place with people like her parents. Everyone should want more—better—should demand it. Her parents were an example to be held up in esteem, an example of the testament of absolute love, loyalty, fidelity and selflessness.
“Okay, Ari, you’re starting to worry me,” Beau said firmly, reaching up to nudge her chin so her attention was forced to him once more. “I swear you keep drifting away to God only knows where. I only know you’re not here with me.”
“But that’s exactly where I want to be,” she said softly, her palm sliding over the wall of his chest, exploring every hard contour, the ripple of his abdominal muscles. Then she pressed a kiss just above his left nipple, enjoying the brush of her lips over his firm skin and even firmer pectorals.
“You can’t possibly want it more than I do,” he said, sliding his fingers up the length of her arm that was still flung across his body.
“Do you mean that?” she asked hesitantly, instantly searching his gaze for any sign of the veracity of his words.
He looked confused and then worried. He turned on his side, his hand wrapped around her arm so
it stayed anchored around him when he moved. Then he reached to trace a line from her temple to her cheek, sending shivers of sheer contentment coursing through her veins.
“How can you doubt that?” he asked. And then faint alarm registered in his eyes and he stared intently at her, as if doing the exact same thing she’d been doing to him. Trying to see into her thoughts, to understand or discover her thoughts, her feelings. And her fears.
“Ari, do you doubt that I want to be with you? That I want you with me? And not just temporarily. Not days. Not weeks. Not months.”
“How long then?” she whispered, dodging his question of whether she doubted his words. She was much more interested in the last things he’d said.
Hope made her pulse flutter and then speed up. She held her breath for seemingly an eternity as she waited for . . . confirmation? Something more? Commitment?
Love?
Oh God, she couldn’t go there. Could not set herself up for devastation. She had to learn to steel herself. Not to take so much to heart. To be able to shrug off the negative things and embrace the good.
His cheeks puffed as he blew out a long breath and his hand slid from her face to capture the arm lying over his chest. He took her hand, lacing their fingers, and then simply placed their joined hands over his heart.
“This is where you are, Ari. Here. And this is where you’ll stay. And because you’re here,” he said, pressing her hand harder against the steady thud of his heartbeat. “That means that I want you here.”
He gestured to the bed. And then swept his arm to encompass the room.
“Everywhere,” he said softly. “Everywhere I am is where I want you to be.”
He leaned forward, still keeping her hand trapped solidly between their bodies and he fused his mouth to hers in the sweetest of kisses. He was still treating her gently, as though he feared she would break or that he’d somehow cause her more pain.
“Forever,” he whispered into her mouth, the word swallowed up as she inhaled the scent, the taste, the feel of him surrounding her. “I want forever.”
And that one word, so simple but utterly sincere, gave her contentment such as she’d never known or experienced.
Love finds you when you least expect it. Under seemingly impossible circumstances, but it was there. Young and blooming still. Unwavering and constant.
Love truly did conquer all. Love required trust, unconditional faith in the face of adversity.
Some of the overwhelming fears of losing her family dimmed, because, in this moment, Ari knew without a doubt that Beau would find her parents and that Ari and Beau’s love would be as steadfast and true as her mother and father’s and that they too would withstand the test of time
TWENTY-THREE
BEAU’S expression blackened and he emitted a soft curse when a firm knock sounded at his bedroom door. He rolled to his back with a groan and slapped his palm to his forehead in a signal of frustration.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Now? Someone’s going to interrupt us now of all times? Swear to God, the house better be on fire.”
Ari smothered a smile and tried to summon irritation equal to his, but he was too funny with his pouty sullen look of a boy who’d just been denied his favorite toy.
When the knock persisted, Beau rolled, sliding his feet to thump on the floor, and then rose to stalk to the door, yanking it open with enough force to rip it from its hinges.
“What?” he barked
Ari turned, curious as to whom would brave Beau’s wrath to interrupt them so early in the morning. She frowned. Or at least she thought it was morning. Yesterday was a fog bank, and she had to struggle to part the veil of mist in order to remember all that had happened.
She shivered with the bone-deep cold that always assailed her after a psychic burst—a word she’d made up on the fly because, well . . . it was appropriate—because Beau was no longer there to warm her and the bed was suddenly chilly. She dug her feet deeper, seeking residual warmth from the imprint of his legs and feet.
At first she couldn’t see who had knocked on Beau’s door because Beau solidly filled the doorway and they were speaking in low tones. So she couldn’t hear? Or out of deference to the fact she was always so sound sensitive. But she wasn’t now, so it had to be that they didn’t want her to hear.
She frowned, sitting up in bed, craning her neck to see around Beau, and was finally able to see enough of the intruder to recognize him. Zack. Only he wasn’t alone. Caleb and Dane were both flanking Zack. She bit her lip in agitation. What on earth was going on? Why were all three men standing there wearing determined expressions? Except Caleb, whose eyes and face seemed locked in impenetrable stone. He neither frowned nor smiled. He was utterly unreadable—but obviously serious, and even so, he definitely intimidated her.
She unconsciously settled further back into the pillows, drawing the covers protectively to her chin as if by doing so she offered some kind of barrier between her and the daunting, cold figure Caleb represented.
What had made him so? Only when he was around his wife, or she entered the room, did his entire demeanor soften, and he seemed to light up, glowing from the inside out. Ari could see the immediate change—the difference—knew that he quite obviously adored the other woman and that he’d lay waste to any threat to her.
Surely a man who became utterly defenseless the minute his wife walked into the room couldn’t be all bad. Her own father could be considered quite ruthless. Even cold and daunting, all the qualities she’d attributed to Caleb. But, like Caleb, he became a different man the moment his wife so much as smiled at him. And she knew for a fact that her father was a good man, despite appearances. So perhaps she wasn’t being fair to Caleb. She’d jumped to some rather hasty conclusions fueled by her overwhelming fear. Something that now made her ashamed.
Beau spoke to the men a few more moments, but it didn’t escape her that he ensured he was a solid barrier to the inside of the bedroom. Specifically the bed where Ari lay. Not that he needed to have concerned himself since she was currently buried in the bed and only her face peeked out from the covers.
Then he softly closed the door and returned to Ari, his features carefully schooled. Instead of crawling back into bed and under the covers with her as she’d hoped, he sat on the edge of the bed and simply held out his hand as if he needed that contact with her.
Or perhaps he thought she would need his touch after he told her what had prompted the early morning visit from his brother and their operatives.
She slipped her hand from beneath the covers and laid it over Beau’s. He immediately curled his around hers, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.
“I need you to listen and hear me out,” Beau said in a carefully measured tone.
Her heart skipped a beat before resuming regular rhythm, but the one irregularity caused a momentary catch in her breath. He seemed perfectly in tune with her responses, her body language and reactions. He was perfectly in tune with her.
“Honey, this could be a good thing. So don’t jump to hasty conclusions. I need you to be calm and rational.”
Okay, so it wasn’t horrible. She could deal with that. She made a concerted effort to regulate her breathing and to relax. After a moment when Beau seemed satisfied that she was ready to listen, he scooted a bit closer to her and held her hand in his lap.
“Ramie has agreed to help us. She’s going to try to establish a link to one or both of your parents.”
This time her pulse leapt in excitement, not dread. It took all her control not to literally bounce up and down on the bed like an excited child.
“She did?” Ari whispered, unable to keep the incredulity from her voice. “But Caleb . . . He was so adamant.” And Beau did not miss her sudden shiver that she couldn’t control when she remembered just how vehement Caleb’s reaction had been.
Beau’s eyes grew cold at the reminder of just how adamant his brother had been. But then he seemed to make a concerted effort to shake off
his sudden anger and smiled at her hesitant yet hopeful question.
“Ramie is her own person, despite what Caleb may think or what he may make others think. He’d very much like to control every aspect of her life. Not because he’s an overbearing asshole—although he certainly can be just that—but because he loves her dearly and he only seeks to protect her and I can’t fault him for that. You have no idea the sheer horror they endured not so long ago. What Ramie has endured time and time again over the years. One day when I have the time and we aren’t pressed for it, I’ll tell you their story, but it’s not a pretty one,” he said in a grim tone.
“And since Ramie doesn’t allow Caleb to run roughshod over her and exert the control he wants, Ramie pretty much told Caleb that he did not make decisions for her, and that if she chose to help you, then she was damn well going to do just that. She really likes you, Ari. You struck a chord with her. It may seem silly, but no sillier than your thought—your belief—that the two of you were somehow linked—kindred spirits, even sisters of sorts, though you’d never met—is precisely the way Ramie feels about you. And it breaks her very tender heart that you’ve lost your only family. Ramie grew up with no family. She never had one until us. We’re her family now so she especially feels as though she can identify with the way you feel, and she wants to do whatever she can to try and help locate your parents.”
“When?” Ari choked out. “Where? Today?” Oh God, let it be today. Please today. She didn’t think she’d last even one more day without something—anything—to let her know her parents were alive.
Beau’s hand tightened around hers. “Yes, today. But first you have to do something for us.”
“Anything,” Ari instantly vowed.
“Ramie is usually able to establish a link to the victim by touching an item at the scene of the abduction. Even a small piece. Sometimes the seemingly obscurest of things. But if the killer touched what the victim had touched, or if he was even close enough to it, and if he gives off particularly strong imprints, Ramie can use that as a pathway.”