Chapter 24

24

JACK

W hen she pulls away, I feel the crushing devastation roar back into my chest, all light and hope burn out. Then she says she's just cold and dirty. I nearly laugh with relief. I didn't think I'd have the chance to have her back in my arms. Especially not when she's been held hostage by an enemy, which would seem to confirm her worst fears. Yet she doesn't seem in a hurry to leave. She is in my shower now.

I keep my body on a leash, determined not to overwhelm her or rush her in any way. It can be enough that she is safe for tonight. If she wants to go to her dad's house, I'll drive her myself. I'm just thankful she's unharmed and safe. I'll give anything, I'll even let her go if it makes her happy.

It feels like I'm taking the first full breath since I got that picture on my phone this afternoon. I take off my jacket and tie, my shoes. Every muscle in my body was tense, ready for combat. The sense of release is incredible, the knowledge that Vinny Carbini can't hurt her or anyone else ever again. It feels like my mission is complete for today.

Serena steps out of the bathroom on bare feet. My eyes travel from her toes all the way up her long legs to the hem of my dress shirt skimming her smooth thighs. I make a throttled sound as my body hardens in response. Her hair is wet and tousled, her eyes bright. Her lips curve into a smile just for me. I wait on the couch even though I want to leap to my feet, cover the distance in two long strides and claim her. Patience, I tell myself severely.

She doesn't keep me waiting. Serena is beside me, one bare leg tucked beneath her, on the couch. She turns to face me. The scent of my shampoo mixes with the familiar smell of her skin. Serena's closeness is too much for me. It's all I can do to marshal my thoughts and keep my hands to myself while I wait for her cue.

"I love you. I know it's weird to say just out of the blue like this, but I never said it to you before. I should have, a hundred times. Ironically, I was too afraid then. Today, the worst happened, or what could've been the worst, and there you were, kicking in the door to save the day."

"I knocked," I correct her.

"I'm giving you credit anyway," she says with a smile, "You saved me, even though I walked away from you and from this—this is everything , Jack. I can't tell you what it did to me to hear your voice on the phone the other day. I wanted to beg, Jack—I love you that much. More than that. More than anything."

"You don't need to say another word," I tell her. My chest is so full. She loves me, she's said it out loud. I wrap my fingers around her calf, possessive. She shifts at my touch. I couldn't resist her if I tried. I see her cheeks flush, the glimpse of her collarbone at the open collar of my shirt.

"We have to talk, Jack," she insists.

"I'll listen to anything you have to say," I tell her mischievously, "in about an hour… maybe two."

I think she's going to protest again, but she surprises me. Her fingers open the buttons of my shirt. She trails one fingertip down, from the base of my throat all the way to my belt buckle. My entire body jerks in response to her seductive touch, the fiery trail blazed by her fingerprint down the length of my sternum. I catch my breath, lean forward, seal my mouth over hers.

I delve my tongue in deep, and her pliant body arches into me. The hand on her calf glides up her smooth, familiar skin. I revel in every inch of her flesh. Her strong thighs feel different in my hands now, meatier somehow, and her hips were narrower when I held her last it seems. I must not remember as perfectly as I thought I had. Because here she is, perfect beneath my touch, and I would not change a thing about her. Tormenting us both, I slowly unbutton the shirt she borrowed. Every time I reveal a sliver of her pale skin, I dip my head to kiss her. The hollow of her throat, just below her questioning look. Here eyes are fevered and bright, her face flushed, lips swollen from my kisses. She sits back on her knees and lifts her chin.

Serena unbuttons the shirt herself, opens it so that I can look my fill, greedy eyes traveling from her collarbone, between her breasts. I part the white cotton fabric to bare her lush breasts. They look and feel more ample, her nipples big and juicy, a pretty flush on her skin. I kiss each one, savoring the salt taste of her warm flesh, the responsive tightening of her nipples when I lick one. I fumble with the next button, but Serena catches my wrist to stop me.

I lift my head from where I was busy laving her nipple with my tongue and trail my eyes from her breasts down to the curve of her belly. The rounded swell of her abdomen which is very different from the slight curve of her flat stomach that I knew so well. I narrow my eyes, letting it sink in.

Serena is pregnant. I stare for probably a full minute, speechless. She puts both her hands on her stomach, not to cover it up, but to cradle it. She reaches for my hand. I let her take it. She presses my palm to her bare skin, lets me learn by touch the new shape of her.

When I look up and meet her eyes, I feel my shock give way to something unexpected. First is the overwhelming wave of joy. The wonder of this brave, beautiful woman carrying my child. I start to reach for her, to draw her protectively into the circle of my arms. Just as suddenly, the joy burns out of me and anger thrashes in my chest as I jerk my hand back from hers.

"Is this why you walked out on me?" I accuse. "You weren't scared off by the danger. You found out you were pregnant and didn't want me to know."

Serena's face crumples for an instant. The hope I hadn't recognized in her eyes flickers out. She wraps my shirt around her body, hiding herself from my gaze now.

"It was both. I took the test the same day we met at the diner. You were late, then I found out you were hurt. Not that this is your fault. I take full responsibility. I was scared to tell you because after I stitched you up, I was so upset and emotional and I could only see how our baby would be a pawn in this business. That an enemy would kidnap or hurt our child to control you. We'd never have a moment when he could be a happy, carefree child because we'd have guards all over the place. I didn't want that, didn't want our child to grow up at such risk, and to wonder every second if this was the day that some rival family takes our baby for leverage."

Serena is trying not to cry. I might respect that effort, but I'm so pissed off that I can't even see straight.

"I was wrong to keep this from you. I was so scared and that's no excuse. I know now that you're the only one who can keep us safe, Jack. Please. Please—" She breaks down and weeps into her open hands, right there on my couch, wearing my dress shirt with the sleeves so long on her that the cuffs almost cover her fingers.

I can see her shoulders shake with sobs. I open and close my mouth like a fish gasping for air and dying on the deck of a ship. I can't reach for her again or imagine trying to comfort her because I'm bleeding out right there, my whole life blown apart. For a long time, I can't speak. There are no words to tell her how she could have grabbed the gun out my nightstand, pumped my chest full of lead at point-blank range and laughed in my face while I asked her why—and that would've hurt me less than what she did. Grief swamps me, a wildfire leaving only ash and emptiness behind. Then in the hollow husk of me, rage flows back in, bitter and wretched. Misery soaks me like acid rain.

When I find my voice, it sounds, to my ears, exactly like my father's voice.

"You're carrying my child and kept it a secret. You hid this from me, had the balls to act sad and say you couldn't bear to talk to me on the phone—God, when I think how that got my hopes up, thinking you must really love me like I'm some stupid teenage motherfucker who didn't know up from down."

I rake a hand through my hair, get up and put distance between us. I can't stand the sight of her, sitting there on my couch in my shirt like she's the damn Virgin Mary with tears tracking down her cheeks after she betrayed me that way.

I've never been angry enough to lose my head and hurt someone. This moment, I've scared myself because I feel out of control. I have to get out. I can't stand this place or this feeling.

I walk out and get on the elevator while I call my car. It feels like I'm dropping fifty levels into hell as the elevator plummets to the ground level. Fuck this. I'm not spending another minute listening to her bullshit excuses. No one has ever hurt me like this, no one ever came close. She might as well be a goddamn assassin because I feel like I've been shot about seven times through the heart, through the head, maybe one right through the eye for good measure.

I don't know what I'm going to do, but I have to get my head together, make some heavy decisions. I feel sick, gutted, like I'm dying only worse. There's no one I can tell, because the person I trusted the most is her.