Lara

Mark’s soft lips cover mine.

My fingers curl in his light brown hair, and I inhale deeply, relaxing in his strong arms. He’s never been timid with his kisses. He’s never been timid with his love-making. Warm breath whispers on my neck, and the tiny hairs on my body rise as his lips trace my ribs, moving lower to my waist.

A soft moan comes from my throat as he loops his fingers around my panties and tugs them aside. He’s always been forceful, and I love it. An aching pulse rises from the center of my body up through my arms and down to the arches of my feet as his lips close over my clit, giving it a gentle pull before circling it with his tongue.

“Mark!” I gasp, my orgasm rising fast.

Circling, pulling, stroking—my eyes squeeze shut, my back rises off the bed. My fists clench in the soft sheets as the irresistible tightness grows stronger in my belly.

“Oh, God!” I cry out as the crash of orgasm breaks through me, leaving me shuddering in its wake.

He’s up fast, kissing his way up my body. He stops at my left breast, giving the nipple a gentle pull before kissing a trail across to the other. Every touch sends another spark of pleasure to my tingling core.

Until finally our mouths meet, and I’m lost in his deep kiss, tongues entwining, tasting, pulling. So long I’ve waited for this, but it’s my turn to take the lead.

Like a playful kitten, I rise up and push him into the pillows, kissing his smiling lips, then his eyes. I taste salty tears, and my own eyes heat. He’s never been sentimental, but being separated has been overwhelmingly cruel.

I close my eyes and slide my face down to his bare chest. His heart beats as fast as mine, and a flutter of happiness fills me. I trace my finger over the lines of his stomach and the few coarse hairs scattered there, pressing my lips to his hot skin.

I feel his erection against my stomach, and slide my hand down to grip it, tugging gently. I move slowly, letting the tension build, but he’s impatient.

With a low growl he says my name and flips me under him again, searching for my mouth and pushing it open, pushing my thighs apart as he reaches between us to line his tip at my entrance.

With a sharp thrust, he fills me to the hilt.

“Mark!” My head tips back, and I gasp at the sensation.

Peppermint is on my tongue. He holds my hair back and kisses my neck, thrusting rapidly, sending me higher with every invasion. My second orgasm is building, and his mouth is on my throat, my cheek, my temple.

Another sizzle of desire pulses through me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, sending him even deeper.

“Lara,” he groans, driving faster until he holds, pulsing and filling me.

An excited sigh slips from my throat. His arms circle my waist, and he holds me in the secure embrace I love. My hands grip his shoulders as the waves of bliss flow over me, over both of us.

“I love you,” I whisper, and my eyes flutter open.

The room is pitch black and cold.

Silence presses against my inner ears so hard they ache.

My heart beats fast and my body is hot from the fading orgasm, but it’s only a dream. I’m alone here, lying on my stomach in the soft bed piled high with pillows and duvets. My arms are stretched out, searching to hold him, but no one is there.

I close my eyes and try to get back into the dream. It was so real. I can still feel him, still hear his voice. I press my face into the pillow, searching for his scent, but I only smell fresh detergent on a cool pillow.

In that instant, an ache twists deep in my stomach. My knees rise and my pillow muffles the low moan I can’t hold inside as I begin to weep. I’m throbbing, the physical frustration as painful as my emptiness. I wrap my arms around my legs and hold them, fighting for control. I have to hold on.

Several minutes pass, and I’m finally able to calm my breathing. I roll to the side and sit up carefully, reaching for a tissue from the box by my bed. I’m dressed in a long tee, and I go to the door, quietly crossing the hall to Jillian’s room.

It’s a tiny room Roland said he’s sure was meant to be a pantry. We’ve put her portable crib in it and a cute little Tree of Life lamp complete with animals circling it, and she’s snug and warm in the little space.

But when I approach, I see her crib is empty.

“What?” A jolt of fear seizes my chest, and I search, feeling around in the blankets.

Her baby scent is still there, and the mattress is warm.

Dashing out of the room, I run into the living area, when I stop in my tracks. Sitting on the leather couch, his feet on the coffee table and a Kindle in his hand, Roland has my little girl swaddled and sleeping on his chest.

The sight eases the pressure, calms the fears, and I go to them, quietly padding across the wood floor.

Worried eyes flicker to mine. “Another dream?”

I sit on the couch right beside him, and rest my head on my hand. Jillian’s eyes are closed, but her little rosebud lips move in a sucking motion.

I smile and place my hand on her back. “She’s going to want her bottle soon.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice is low and soothing.

Shifting in my seat, I look straight ahead at the French doors lining the front of his house. “I miss him so much.”

“He needs to know his daughter. It’s cruel to keep her from him.”

Guilt floods my chest. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” I whisper. “But I couldn’t leave her behind, and I couldn’t pull him deeper into this.”

“He’s going to find you, and when he does, I hope he takes a riding crop to your ass. If it were me, you wouldn’t sit comfortably for a week, possibly a month.”

My watery eyes roll. “You’ve been watching Fifty Shades of Grey again.”

“Damn straight. Jamie Dornan is fine.”

I manage to exhale a short laugh, but I’m still miserable. “And why do you have Jilly out of her crib?”

“I thought I heard her cry.” My eyes narrow, and he chuckles. “Okay, I wanted to hold her.”

“She’s pretty amazing.” I slide my hand over her back. “Are you sure you don’t mind keeping her for me?”

“She can stay with Uncle Roland as long as she wants. Just let me know when you’re ready to give her to me.”

His words help me smile through the pain, but it’s never far away. “What about your work?”

“Evie can’t wait to be over here spoiling her rotten the nights I have to play.”

“You like the piano bar?”

“It’s fun.” He exhales, shifting in his seat. “I don’t know if I’ll stay there forever, but the pay is excellent, no stress—”

“And you stopped smoking.”

“God, that was the worst part,” he groans. “I’m not sure which I hate more, the patch or the gum.”

I put my head on his shoulder, stroking my daughter’s back again. “I’m glad you had to quit. It’s much healthier.”

“No smoking in bars. Who would’ve believed something like that would happen? Still, I’m through the worst of it.” His slim hand covers mine. “Funny how they grandfathered in the Pussycat club… then it burned to the ground.”

“Good riddance.” The very thought of that place provokes a visceral response in me. Despite it all, I made some lifelong friends there. “How is Evie?”

“Very happy. She loves her boys. It’s one of my better matches, if I do say so myself.”

“You say that like it’s a real relationship.”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean? They’ve been together almost six years.”

“Phillip and Armand are gay…” My voice drops. “What does Evie get out of it?”

“A very nice home, clothes, excellent food, and from what I’ve heard, pretty mind-blowing orgasms.”

I pull back, thinking about that. “Who does she…”

Roland’s dark eyes slide to mine. “How can you possibly be so innocent after everything that happened? For starters, Armand is bisexual.”

Sitting back, I try to imagine. “I didn’t think that was a thing.”

“Time to evolve, dear.”

“Okay, so Armand goes both ways, but Phillip doesn’t.”

“From what I’ve heard, they liked to switch up which piggy’s in the middle.”

“As in Evie…” My forehead wrinkles. “But that hurts. Bad.”

“Darling, being forced is very different from having someone you love carefully filling all your holes.”

A cringe involuntarily moves through me. “Can we leave bad memories buried? The best part is not remembering any of it. Still, it took so much therapy to get over.”

“I’m sorry.” His warm hand covers mine, and he gives it a squeeze. “You brought it up.”

“I did not.”

Jillian starts to squirm, and we both stop talking. He mouths “you did” to me, and I narrow my eyes.

Once it’s clear my daughter isn’t waking up, I sigh and shake my head. “To each his own,” I whisper.

“Speaking of, how’s your own?”

I put my face on my hand again. “He’s so good.”

“I’m sure he is.” I get a naughty wink for that.

“No, I mean… Well, yes, he is, but I mean in every way. He’s so good. He really is a hero.” The light through the windows is growing slowly brighter, and I push off the couch to start Jillian’s bottle.

“You’re really good,” Roland says, catching my hand. “You’re beautiful and talented and loyal to a fault. And when you make a promise, you damn well keep it.”

“This one is going to be better than all of us,” I say, leaning down to kiss my baby’s head, her chestnut hair soft against my lips.

She starts to move, and I know she’ll be awake soon.

Roland rubs his hand up and down her back. “You’ve done enough for her.”

It takes me a moment to realize he means Molly. “I made a promise.”

“And she’s taking advantage of it. With all that therapy, why didn’t she take part?”

“Confronting these men is her version of therapy.”

“You said she found Esterhaus in Canada. He’s the last one. So why the trip to Seattle?”

Standing in the kitchen doorway, I look down at my feet, turning the truth over in my mind before speaking it. “We’re going after Gavin.”

Anger flashes across his face. “No.”

“He harbored Guy. He protected the monsters. He used all of us so they could pocket hundreds of thousands of—”

“I said no.” His voice is stern. “Let sleeping dogs lie.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You can’t? You?” His dark brow lowers, and he leans forward. “I thought all this was because of your promise to Molly. Instead it’s about you?”

“He’s the last one Molly wants to go after.”

“But you’re clearly onboard.”

Tears sting in my eyes. “How could he give away a little girl like she was nothing?”

“Because to him, she was nothing.”

“That better not be all.” My teeth clench, and I shake my head. “He’d better come up with a better reason than that.”

“Or what? You’ll kill him?”

I can’t answer that question. I’m not planning to do anything like that ever again. At the same time, I can’t make any promises on how I might respond to seeing him after everything that’s happened.

“Lara.” Warning is in his voice.

“I just want to know why.”

“You need Mark. Gavin is dangerous. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect himself.”

“Mark is a cop, Roland. If he knows what we’ve done… What I’ve done…” Pain burns in my heart, pain mingled with fear, because while I know I’m right, I know what Roland is saying is the truth. Gavin has always been powerful and unpredictable.

Still, how can I ask Mark to choose between helping us and breaking his oath to uphold the law? Our justice falls in the gray zone laws haven’t been able to sort out yet.

“How will you find him? He went underground shortly after the fire, and no one’s seen or heard from him in years.”

“Molly will find him.”

He exhales deeply and shakes his head. “Let the past go and learn to live with it.”

“After I find Gavin.” I go into the small kitchen and prepare Jillian’s formula.

Shaking the bottle, I return to find her big blue eyes open and her small hands reaching for Roland’s face. She’s smiling, and every time her little palm makes contact with his lips, he gives it a kiss. For a minute I stand and watch them, wishing it could all be this simple.

“I don’t know how I’m going to leave her tomorrow.” My chest tightens, and I’m afraid I might cry again. “Three days feels like a lifetime.”

“I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know.” I hand him the bottle and sit beside them on the couch. As soon as I sit, she fusses for me, and he hands her over. This dark topic is wearing me down, and I can’t think about it. I can’t analyze it. I just have to do it.

“So tell me about Rosa and the other girls,” I say, hoping for a distraction. “What are they doing?”

“Oh, they’re scattered around town. Rosa’s working at another show. Vanessa’s still stripping. Badly. Bea’s on the school board—”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I were.”

I’m out of words, so I look at my sweet baby’s face. She smiles, tangling her tiny fingers in my hair, and my chest relaxes. She’s only three months old, but she’s so alert and happy. Her world is bright and full of hope, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep it that way.

I glance up at my friend and think about us here now, outside that prison. “We never used to talk like this.”

He nods. “It’s true. It was hard to think of much else besides survival in those days.”

My eyes return to Jillian. “I can’t imagine her being trapped in a place like that.”

Roland scoots forward and untangles her fingers from my hair. “Do you ever sing anymore?”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Here.” He takes my hand. “Sing it with me.”

My nose wrinkles. “I don’t want to. It’s been too long.”

“Just the main chorus.” He hums the first note, but I don’t think I can do it.

Still, when he begins, I join him on the harmony.

You’re in my arms, and it feels so right…

But it’s simply aaahhhn illusion.

“You know, sometimes I wondered if you wrote those words for Mark and me.”

“It was some of my best work.” He leans back on the couch, sliding his hands down his thighs. “I don’t miss the pressure or the darkness, but I do miss the creative freedom.”

“You can’t do what you want now?”

“I can. I just don’t have anyone to do it with.”

Jillian finishes her bottle, and I put it on the table, positioning her on my shoulder so I can burp her. He watches, and I can tell what he’s thinking.

“Sing with me tonight.”

I’m shaking my head no before he even finishes speaking. “I have to pack, and I want to spend my last night with her.”

“Jilly will be asleep before I even leave for the bar.” He takes her out of my arms. “We’ll do the old songs. I’ve missed your voice.”

“Give her back to me.”

“You’re not burping her right.” He puts her on his shoulder and starts patting her little back. She burps immediately. “See?”

“No!” I start to laugh. “I got her warmed up for you.”

“She just loves Uncle Roland best.”

It feels good to laugh, to be here with him fussing over my daughter. “Let me hold her now.”

“She’s very comfortable.”

“Here.” I hold out my hands.

“You’re going to make her cry.”

Shaking my head, I get off the couch and carry the bottle to the kitchen. “I’ll text Molly later and let her know. She’ll probably want to join us.”

“I’ll buy her a drink.”

“We’ll stay until Jilly starts to cry.”

“Baby in a bar. Welcome home, cher.”

Cutting my eyes at him, I gaze out the window at the rising sun. “Nobody says cher anymore. And it’s not a bar. It’s a musical venue.”

“So you’ll do it?” He watches me calmly, knowing I’ll say yes.

“I’ll do it, but it doesn’t change anything.”

“I never expected it would.”

Tomorrow we leave here on the quest for the last old man who thinks he got away with it. Maybe I do care too much about this one.