Chapter Three
At the top of the stairs there was a door. Slade rushed up to it and turned the knob, only it was locked. He banged.
“Normandy! Open up!”
A moment later, the latch clicked and it swung inward. For a second, they stared at one another. He drank her in, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her red eyes were slightly swollen with dried tear tracks down her cheeks. She gave a little hiccup and launched herself into his arms, wrapping hers tightly around him. He hugged her back as she succumbed to her anguish in a crying fit. It shredded his heart to see her so broken because Normandy was one of the strongest women he’d ever known. He pulled her close and buried a hand in her hair, kissing the top of her head. His shoulders relaxed as he breathed out all the relief and fear that had slowly consumed him.
For a long time, they stood locked in the embrace, until her tears dried up and her body gradually stopped shaking. Normandy only stood five foot four compared to his six foot, so all she could do was rest her head upon his chest. The last time she’d embraced him like this was the night he had decided to leave their marriage, so the reunion was almost bittersweet. The horror of thinking that he lost her still left a cold grip on his soul, one he never wanted to experience again.
“They’re dead,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“They were targeted, weren’t they?”
“Probably.”
“Do you think I was supposed to be … attacked … too?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God.”
Keeping his arm around her, he maneuvered her into the apartment and closed the door behind him with his foot. The small room was cluttered with crap, leaving only a small walkway to walk down. It seemed Whiskey was a mini-hoarder in the making, with every square inch crammed with something, from a mound of toilet paper to a heap of plastic bags. He hoped any critters the mess had amassed stayed carefully out of view, otherwise they’d be one more stain on the carpet. A small loveseat had been jammed against one wall and he prayed he didn’t contract some type of bacterial infection as he sat down and pulled Normandy onto his lap.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It wasn’t a typical day,” she said softly. “Dad wanted to go to the club because the quarter was almost up and he wanted to get the books in order. You know he always paid quarterly to allay any suspicion on his network, and even though it was a few days early, this was nagging at him, he said. Instead of the usual breakfast at the diner, he and Gregory went in one car to the club. I was supposed to catch a ride with Robbie, but…”
“But?” he prompted.
“I had gotten into an argument with dad just that morning and I didn’t want to be around him because I was angry.”
“How did you come to be here, of all places?”
“It was the only place I could think of that no one knew about, except for you, because it was our place.”
He hugged her tightly. “Jesus. I’m so sorry about your dad and brothers. They were good men.”
“I know what my father did for his money. I was his accountant so I wasn’t that naïve.” She sniffed and pulled back enough to look at him. “I also found out what he said to you, to make you leave me. It’s why I was angry. I hated him for that.”
“Normandy—”
Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “I won’t get a chance to tell him I forgive him.”
“Shh,” he said and wiped the moisture from her eyes. “He’s in a place where his soul knows what’s in your heart. He knows you love him. Sometimes parents do what they think is right for their children and you know he wouldn’t want you to dwell on your argument.”
She nodded. “He was wrong, you know. As much as I love my family, you mean more to me.”
Slade sighed. “I’m sorry, Normandy. It was my fault, too. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”
“Next time talk to me before you make any decisions on what my happiness means.”
His heart began to pound. “Next time?”
She gripped his hand and squeezed. “I want my husband back. I love you, Michael Slade.”
For the first time in almost two years, pure happiness radiated through him. He and Normandy had a wealth of history between them, and it had crushed him when he’d left her.
“How could I be so happy when it was brought about by such a horrible tragedy?” he asked.
She shook her head. “One has nothing to do with the other. When my father told me what he’d said to you, I had already made plans to come after you.”
Amusement flashed through him. “Oh, really? You know I’m V.P. of a motorcycle club, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said. “The White Death. Interesting name.”
He shrugged. “Kix Rockwood was my best friend while growing up in Rider Pass, before I had to move to St. Louis. When I went back, he offered me a place in his club. Without you, I had nothing else, so Kix’s offer was a lifesaver.”
The corners of her mouth turned down as sadness descended over her face. “I’m the last DiLuca,” she whispered. “My father had capos help him run his business, but … but that’s all gone now without a DiLuca to run it.”
“You could run it.”
“Those men would never follow a woman. Especially Cousin Harry. He’s too old, too set in his ways.”
“Make them, Normandy. You are your father’s daughter.”
She touched his face, traced over his brow and down his cheek. Something shifted between them, snapping with sexuality. Slade’s dick hardened and he shifted a little to try to ease the sudden tightness in his jeans. He didn’t want her to think all he wanted was sex, especially at this moment when she was grieving for her family.
“Kiss me,” she said.
“Normandy, you’re vulnerable—”
“No,” she corrected. “I’m alive. And right now, I want you to kiss me.”
His willpower around her amounted to zilch. Always had and probably always would. He’d found her fascinating the first moment he’d set his gaze on her, and through the years he’d come to love her deeply. The two years he had lived without her came out in the desperation of his kiss. He cupped her face and their mouths met in a heated exchange, tongues meeting and twining together. Seconds later, without breaking the seal, she moved until she straddled him, her legs gripping his hips. The kiss went from white hot to frantic and Slade only hoped he didn’t come before he’d gotten her off. It’d been two years since his dick had been buried in pussy because it simply wasn’t interested in any other woman but his wife, and Normandy seemed just as eager since she began to wiggle out of her shorts as quickly as possible. He even forgot about the dank and dirty apartment they resided in as their kisses broke apart to shift clothing around. When she rose to discard her panties, he lifted his hips to unzip his pants and bring his cock out. Seconds later, Normandy straddled him again and lowered herself onto him, her cunt nice and wet.
“Jesus,” he moaned as he sank deep inside her heat. “I’ve fucking missed you, woman.”
“Oh, God,” she breathed. “Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me hard.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as he grabbed her hips to help her ride him. Gripping her tightly, he bucked upward and watched his cock slide in and out, moving with ease and slick speed into her. Normandy was gasping and moaning, bucking and writhing and he’d never seen anything so beautiful. His release was rising fast, but he had to feel her cunt grab his cock before he gave in. Sliding in and out of her, he reached up and grabbed her nipples and twisted them hard. She arched her back, shrieked, and came immediately
Slade couldn’t hold back anymore. He thrust one last time, burying himself, and came with a shout. “Oh, God, baby, I'm coming!”
His heart thundered in his chest as his senses soared and euphoria descended through every cell in his body. Normandy slumped against him and he could feel the frenetic thump of her heart pounding a duet with his own. They both gasped for air and he gave an amused snort.
“What?” she asked a bit breathlessly.
“I haven’t come that fast since I lost my virginity in high school.”
She leaned up to look him in the eye. “I want you to know that I’ve been faithful to our vows.”
He brushed her sweaty bangs off her forehead. “Me, too.”
Just as they leaned in to kiss once more, the door banged open. Slade’s instincts took over, and he rolled with her off the loveseat. Gunfire roared through the small room, almost blowing out his eardrum. His hand kept Normandy’s head down and he hovered over her to protect her from any stray shots. The only place he could think to escape was toward the kitchen area, so scooping up her shorts and thrusting them at her, he scooted her toward the small kitchenette. The bullets still whizzed by and Slade knew there was nowhere they could go. The tiny, cluttered apartment was about to become their tomb.