Chapter Three

Javier always had trouble remembering the time difference between the city and Oklahoma, but he thought if it was after six here, it would be past five there. Jorge should be home from work by now and since Javier had come up with nothing better, he planned to depart for the Sooner State in the morning. Now he had not only the possibility that Cecily would bring down law enforcement on his head, but he also had worries someone might recognize her from the footage. He'd built his career on being as nondescript as possible, but she was high profile. It wouldn't take much for some society airhead to say, "Oh, look, isn't that Cecily Randolph DeLauncy? I never liked the woman myself but that's her. Didn't she marry that old French guy for his money?"

He made sure the bedroom door was shut and grabbed his phone, ready to get this part over.

"Hello," Jorge's wife, a gorgeous Oklahoma-bred woman, answered with her Western twang.

Javier throttled down his nerves and did his best to make his tone sound normal.

"Hey, Ava, it's Javier. Is my brother close? I need to speak to him."

"He's right here. Hang on."

As he waited, Javier imagined his brother's ranch-style home in Guymon. Jorge probably sat at the round kitchen table, his first beer of the evening in hand while Ava prepared supper. The kids would be either gathered around the television watching the Cartoon Network or out in the large backyard.

"Hola," Jorge said. "What's up, bro?"

Javier drew a long breath and held it for a moment. Despite what he'd become, he hated lying to his brother. Mami raised them with honesty, but Javier could and did break that habit on a regular basis. With his brother, though, he often struggled.

"I'm thinking about heading west for a little while and coming to see you."

"Sure, no problem. My house is your house, you know that."

He did and suffered a pang of guilt because he never reciprocated. Not that Jorge would bring his family to the Big Apple but if he ever did, Javier didn't have space for extras, nor could he explain his upscale studio.

"I do but I thought I might rent a vacation place or something. I'm bringing a…"

Javier trailed off as he tried to find a word to describe Cecily. "Hostage" wouldn't work but he also didn't want Jorge to get a notion he'd found a soulmate or even worse, a wife.

"A what?" Jorge laughed.

"A friend," Javier stated. "Cecily."

"Driving or flying?"

Although he hadn't decided until now, he said, "Driving."

"That'll take a few days. We're here every day. I'm working four ten-hour days a week at the pork plant but I'm a supervisor now. I've got some vacation time I can take, maybe. How's life as a security guard going?"

"It goes."

"You ought to get out of that city, man. It's a rat race."

A rare and odd thought flitted through Javier's mind. He could leave the city behind in a New York minute and for the first time he realized he wouldn't miss it. "More than you'll ever know, Jorge."

They chatted for a few more minutes, then hung up with Javier's promise to be there by Saturday. Compared to telling Cecily the plan, that had been simple.

The clothing delighted her, and she changed immediately into jeans and a blouse. Cecily stroked the fabrics in a way that made Javier wish she would run her hands over his skin in the same way. The thought made him hard again.

"Thank you. I like having clothing. You have good taste and I appreciate it." She held a garment up to her cheek. For the moment, she wasn't snarking at him and Javier liked it. Goddamn, what a woman she could be, how charming, when she wanted.

"It's nothing," he said. "I ruined your dress anyway."

"You didn't have to replace it, especially not with a pile of clothing, but I'm glad you did. I'll be the best-dressed prisoner in the world. Thank you, Javier. You're the nicest captor I've ever had."

She often had to add that slight barb, but he dismissed it.

With tender steaks cooked to a perfect medium with sautéed mushrooms, baked potatoes with butter and sour cream, and a garden salad Javier threw together, he and Cecily dined like royalty. She ate with appetite and didn't complain. Since she didn't mention her stomach, Javier assumed all was well with it for now. He savored a cigarillo after the meal, then poured them each a glass of sangria.

"Salud!" Javier lifted his glass and touched it to hers. "Was your steak burned?"

He hadn't forgotten her earlier remark.

Cecily smiled. "No, it was perfect. Thank you for the good meal, Javier."

Her tone was mild so maybe she meant it.

Her gratitude made him feel like an asshole because the person he'd become wasn't nice.

"De nada," he replied, then plunged into the necessary information. "We'll leave early in the morning so you'd better pack tonight. There's a suitcase for you, one for me, and the toiletries bag we'll share."

Her mouth drooped open. "Where are we going?"

"Oklahoma. I have a brother there."

Sharing personal info came hard to him but he owed her a few facts.

"Can't I just go home? I won't tell anyone what I saw, Javier. I promise. Just cut me loose and we'll part ways."

At this point, he wanted to believe her but since his future, his very life hinged on her veracity, he refused to take a chance.

"No." He made no additional explanation but when she pushed, even begged, he added, "It's not just myself I want to protect, Azúcar, it's you, too."

Cecily bristled and her face flushed crimson. "Yeah, right. I don't believe you. I'm the innocent fucking victim here. I didn't do anything. I didn't shoot anyone."

He delivered the news in a calm voice. "They have us leaving the hotel on camera. It's from the back, yes, but if either of us can be recognized, it's you. It seems they think you're my accomplice."

She leapt to her feet, spilling the last of her wine. "I'm not!"

Javier grabbed a towel and mopped the spill before it could stain the carpet. "I know that, but the authorities don't. Sit down and calm down before you get knots in your belly again."

Cecily stomped to the couch and flung herself down, then picked up a pillow. She turned it over and over in her lap, then punched it multiple times.

"I should have never gone to the stupid reception that night," she told him, tears sparkling in her eyes. "I should have known better and when I left, I should have gotten a taxi to my place. I never should have gone up on the roof. If I hadn't, none of this would be happening."

He listened to her tirade without comment. "Why were you there anyway? I wondered."

She threw the pillow across the room, then huffed. "Eloise, Pierre's youngest daughter, got engaged. It was a party to celebrate, and they invited me. I thought maybe they didn't hate me anymore. Instead, they set me up to snub me in front of all kinds of important people."

Javier could envision it. Cecily dolled up in fancy dress, did her hair and makeup, then sallied forth to participate in "lifestyles of the noteworthy rich."

"And did it work out that way?" He lit another cigarillo as he spoke.

Her face contorted with anger and some other emotion, maybe embarrassment, possibly regret. "No. Eloise and her fiancé, Rock Harding, the actor, barely spoke to me. Neither did anyone else. I ended up in a corner with a glass of champagne in my hand. There's no love lost between us, and apparently I needed the reminder."

"But you stayed?" He wouldn't have.

Her lips twisted as she bit them. "I didn't want to be gauche. I was raised with manners, after all."

"So, you bailed and headed to the roof?"

Cecily nodded.

"I would have thought the party would have been over long before four in the morning."

She crossed her legs, then shifted to tuck them beneath her body. "It ended around one, I think. I've been to that hotel many times, even stayed there once or twice. I didn't want to listen to all the parting wishes, watch the others kiss each other's cheeks and ass, so I slipped to the elevator. I remembered the terrace on the rooftop and went up there.

The timeline didn't quite compute for him. "Wait. The event ended at one. What did you do, come back later?"

She shook her head. "No, I sat there for three hours, back out of the way, in a chair in the dark. I didn't have any good reason to go home, and I tried to work through my anger.

The back of Javier's neck tingled. "That can't be right. I would have seen you."

"I was there when you came. I saw you and I thought … well, never mind what I thought."

"Tell me." He'd engaged in fantastic fucking with her and the more he got to know her, the deeper his attraction became. He didn't just want to have sex or make love. Javier wanted to take care of her, bring a smile to her lips, and spend more time with her.

Cecily wouldn't meet his eyes. "I thought you were so handsome, and I wondered who you were, why you were up there. I'm foolish, I thought you must be a hotel guest with insomnia. I didn't think you would stay long so I waited."

Handsome. This rich bitch, who he'd accused of offing her ancient sugar-daddy husband, found him good-looking. Javier couldn't decide if that made him proud or mad. "For what?"

She threw her hands wide. "I don't know. I thought maybe we'd speak, maybe we could go for an early breakfast somewhere. You also had a dangerous air about you, and I liked that until you got out that rifle. I thought I could slip away while you smoked but then you shot that man, killed him."

Go out for breakfast? That wasn't part of his world. What the fuck had she been thinking?

If she hadn't whimpered, he would never have known she was present. Damn, but he must be slipping. He couldn't afford mistakes like that. "Motherfucking hell," he breathed. "What a total shit show. Did anyone ever tell you that you're a stupid bitch?"

Cecily had stood with arms folded as she finished her story. Her gaze focused on him but when he spoke, her face crumpled like a discarded cigarette package. "Often," she whispered in a voice as shattered as broken glass. "All my life. You hate me too, don't you?

He should have but he didn't. "Cecily, Bomboncita, no."

What he had said, though, had hurt her, deep and hard. She stared at him then spewed out more of her backstory.

"I'm not sure my parents liked me. I was, as they say, an accident. Ruined my mother's shot at modeling or acting. Put a responsibility on my father's back he resented until the day he died. Pierre wanted me for a trophy wife, nothing more. If he didn't hate me when he married me, I'm sure he did after. He envied my youth, disliked my sarcasm, and begrudged the reality I would outlive him. His children hated me from day one. I know I'm stupid. I always have been."

He wasn't a priest but apparently she'd decided it was confession time. Javier listened. Maybe he owed her that, at least. It might help him to understand her better. He already had a soft spot for the bitch, one he didn't want to have.

Cecily turned away from him and darted into the kitchen. Javier followed, his emotions in a boiling stew, and found her leaning against the counter, sobbing. Her cries cut into him and slashed his heart with pain. Such a lovely creature shouldn't experience such despair.

"Cecily, I don't hate you. I like you. You're beautiful with a tough spirit and a sassy mouth. Maybe we shouldn't have met, I don't know. We wouldn't have, under normal circumstances, but I'm not sorry you were on the rooftop. I'm glad."

As he spoke, he put his hand on her back, a gesture intended to comfort.

She stilled at his touch. "Are you?"

Javier was, although he didn't want to admit it. He'd rather this woman didn't have a hold on his heart or his emotions. He didn't care about anything but family and he kept them distant for their safety. "Yes," he said. "Tell me about your family. Why would you even think they hated you?"

Cecily faced him, heaved a sigh. "If I'm gonna tell you, I need a drink. Do you have any more wine?"

Javier poured two glasses of the sangria he'd served with dinner and handed her one.

"I don't think they hated me, I know it," Cecily said, then gulped half the glass of wine. "As long as I can remember, my father called me ‘Daddy's big mistake.' He didn't want to have a kid or a wife. The only reason he married my mom was because his agent thought it would look bad if he didn't. Can't have your Broadway lead doing a fuckin' stupid thing, like knock up some model like a horny teenager. I know Daddies are supposed to buy you ice cream cones or take you to the zoo. Mine never left the house with me. I wasn't allowed to watch his plays or sit on his lap."

Javier compared it to his childhood. Yeah, they'd been poor, and his papa died early, but he'd never doubted he was loved. Maybe his folks didn't take him to the zoo either, but they went to Coney Island once a summer if not more. Papi bought him Nathan's hot dogs when he could. Mami brought home the chicken that didn't sell every night when she worked at a restaurant. Occasionally, part of a cake or something.

"I'm sorry," he said and meant it. Sex with Cecily had proven to be amazing, off the charts, but it was fast becoming more than physical. He'd developed some feelings for her although he tried to squelch them. "What about your mama? Didn't she care?"

Cecily laughed, a bitter sound that made Javier shiver the same way nails running down a chalkboard did. "My nanny raised me. I hardly ever saw my mother. According to her, I ruined her modeling career and any chance at acting. My dad said she was a shitty, no-talent actress and not even a good piece of ass. In case you're wondering, she didn't brush my hair or let me play dress-up with her clothing or take me to a salon. She didn't even shop for my clothes or take me to school. The nanny did. As soon as I was old enough, they shipped me off to boarding school. I hated it there."

Then, like an afterthought, she said. "Do you actually like me?"

"Si, mi Tesoro. You complicate my life, but you give me something I'd almost forgotten. You make me feel things I never do. You make me crazy."

Cecily turned around and faced him, tear tracks marring her face, but she wore a smile.

"Livin' da vida loco," she whispered. "Let's get wild."

He needed no invitation, not when she threw herself into his arms, hotter than a flame, wilder than a lioness in the wild, sweeter than cake or candy. Javier grasped her tight and lowered his mouth to hers. He took but she gave, their lips molded together as her fire ignited his passion. He had to have her, fast, furious, and with a ferocity he'd never known.

Javier pressed her against the cabinet, fumbled down the zipper of her jeans, and worked them out of the way. Her panties followed as he shucked out of his shorts then he nailed her. Javier lifted her up against the countertop and took her. His hard cock slammed into her box like a New York Yankee hitting a home run. He hammered her with his dick, not so far gone he didn't feel it when she squeezed her cunt around him. Sensations of pleasure rushed through him, his mouth fused to hers while his dick remained deep in her pussy. They came in a savage rush of sensual delight that brought them both to their knees.

Collapsed on the floor, entangled in their half-removed clothing, sweating and messy with cum, they laughed. Javier found a joy in their lovemaking that he'd never experienced and realized it wasn't just sex, not now, not with Cecily. He lacked the words to express that, however, and so, when he could, he helped her up.

"Go get a shower, then pack."

His command lacked tenderness, but she smiled at him anyway. "I'll indulge in a long bath. I want to use those bath salts you had delivered. I'll see you afterward."

Cecily kissed two of her fingers, then placed them on his lips.

He stood and stared, then laughed as he straightened his clothing, pulled up his shorts.

While she soaked in the tub, he packed his clothing and gathered what he would take. He plotted the route and ended up with four days on the road. Leaving Wednesday would put them in Guymon by noon on Saturday. The long haul would be grueling, but Javier could handle it.

After Cecily's indulgent bath, she packed her garments and curled up to sleep. Javier climbed in beside her and although he held her in his arms, they didn't get intimate. He needed sleep for the long journey ahead.

Accustomed to irregular hours, he rose at four and woke her at five. By the time she dressed, he had loaded his car with their suitcases, his laptop, and his gun bag. Javier also took the cash from his safe, tucked into his laptop bag.

Before Cecily got up, Javier checked the news. He filtered everything out except Harrington's murder, but the emerging details made his blood run colder than January sleet.

"Hotel employees report that although a good likeness was not captured on the security cameras, they can describe a Hispanic man, thirty to forty years of age, who came through the lobby in the early hours of Monday. The desk clerk on duty, Tabitha Brown, Brooklyn, stated she believes it's the same individual who exited with the woman."

The scene cut to a woman on camera, wringing her hands and ill-at-ease. "I'd swear on a Bible if I had one it's the same dude. He's hot so I noticed. And the woman, I didn't recognize her, but I bet she was at something here at the hotel early. We had an engagement party, a retirement celebration, and a sorority reunion. I think he might have had a car parked nearby."

The camera returned to focus on the news anchor. "When pressed for a description of the vehicle, Ms. Brown could tell us it was black and late model. Since black is the most common car color in the city, that wasn't much help. As more details emerge, you can count on our news desk for coverage."

Javier realized he couldn't show his face in Midtown Manhattan anytime soon. Getting out of town for a while seemed to be the best option if he wanted to maintain his anonymity. A new concern raised an ugly possibility. Narrowing down guests at the three events might result in someone identifying Cecily. They both had much to lose.

They crossed over the Hudson River, a first for Cecily who had always traveled by plane, and into New Jersey. Hoboken and Newark were just place names on a map, unfamiliar to Javier, although he'd passed through before. Just before they got onto the Garden State Parkway, which they would follow most of the way through Jersey, Javier drove through and bought breakfast. He ordered two large coffees. "What do you want, Azúcar?" he asked.

Cecily peered at the menu board. "I can't read this from here. What's available?"

"What are you, from outer space?" he asked. "Biscuits or croissants with bacon or sausage or chicken with egg and cheese, some kind of potatoes, or biscuits with gravy."

Her smile segued into a pout. "I've never eaten fast food before, so I don't know. Order for me."

Rolling his eyes, Javier ordered them both sausage croissants with egg and an oatmeal-raisin bar. He handed her one coffee, then the bag of food. "Go ahead and dig yours out. I'll eat mine once we're back on the Interstate."

"We're eating in the car?"

"Yeah, Fancy Pants, we are, but try not to drip on the leather seats or make a mess. We have a long ass way to go so we can't stop at a restaurant with linen tablecloths and a wine list every meal."

Javier drank a long swig of coffee, needing the caffeine hit. Cecily sipped hers and unwrapped her sandwich. She nibbled it, swallowed, and asked, "How far is it anyway?"

"Over sixteen hundred fucking miles. Shut up and eat, will you?"

Muttering, she did as he asked.

Javier donned sunglasses and sighed.

This would be a long trip. Maybe they should have flown after all.