All the Pretty Lies (28 page)

“You said you wanted five minutes. Well, I’m
giving them to you. This ends now. One way or the other.”

That phrasing makes my chest tight, but I
can’t say that I’m totally blindsided. I can see why she would
write me off forever. What I did to her was pretty bad.
Unforgiveable even. I guess I’d just hoped that maybe she could.
Forgive me, that is. That she
would
. That somehow she’d view
what we had as worth another shot. I know I do. I’d give her a
thousand shots if it meant she’d stay and never leave me.

“In that case,” I say, draining my glass yet
again and walking to the edge of the dining room to the wet bar,
where I pour myself another. When I turn, Sloane is standing near
me, her eyes fixed on mine, her expression guarded. “I wanted to
tell you that I found the people who threatened your brother. They
won’t cause you or your family trouble anymore.”

She doesn’t look surprised. She just nods.
“Thank you.”

I wait for her to say something else, but she
doesn’t so I continue. “I also have my brother’s attorney friend
looking into any and all leads that might’ve had something to do
with what happened with the dirty drugs. I’ll find out who it is
and I’ll make this right with your brother. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she
says softly, reminding me of a conversation we had a lifetime
ago.

“I don’t. I make promises that I’ll either
keep or die
trying
to keep.”

She says nothing, just watches me. Finally,
after a long pause, she asks, “Is that what you wanted to tell
me?”

I take a deep breath. It’s now or never.
“Partly.”

Sloane glances down at her watch. “Well,
you’d better get to the other part.”

I waste a few seconds looking her over. She’s
wearing a black shirt with a deep V neck, a short, silver skirt and
silver sandals. Her toenails are painted bright red, as are her
fingernails, which I notice as she smoothes her skirt over her
thighs nervously. I realize when I see her gesture that this is
just as hard for her as it is for me, maybe more so. It’s time to
go balls out.

I take a step toward her. I don’t know if
she’ll welcome my closeness, but I’m not waiting around to find
out. I’m jumping in. Head first.

“From the very first time I saw you, there
was something in your eyes that I felt like I connected with. I
chalked it up to all kinds of other things, like physical
attraction, having been without companionship for a while, you name
it. And then when I saw how innocent you were…even though you had
this kick ass sex appeal…oh God! I didn’t know how the hell I’d
ever be able to resist you. I knew I didn’t need a distraction like
you, which is why I told you I wouldn’t teach you how to tattoo.
But then I saw you with your brother. I knew that I’d probably
never have another opportunity like that again—to be able to find
out more about someone I considered a suspect. So I took it. I told
myself that I would stay away from you in every way except to teach
you. And in the meantime, I’d pick your brain about your family.
And I got what I thought I wanted, what I thought I needed. As soon
as I heard you confirm that your brother had a connection to
Tumblin, I ran with it. I mean, all I’ve been able to think about
for two years was finding my brother’s killer. But that was before
I met you.

“Even when I believed I had found the right
guy, I felt like shit for passing on that information. I knew it
would hurt you, but I did it anyway. And every day that passed, I
felt worse and worse about it. Hurting you wasn’t worth it. It
didn’t bring my brother back. It just tore my heart out. And now I
know why, I know
why
it hurt me so much to hurt you. Even
then, I was already falling in love with you. I resisted you as
long as I could, telling myself that it was just sexual and that
once I had you, you’d be out of my system. But that was not the
case. If anything, that just made it worse.”

Sloane hasn’t said a word, but at least she’s
listening. And the more I talk about the way things were, about the
way she makes me feel, the more drawn to her I feel. So I step even
closer, close enough to touch her.

“It’s addictive, having something that no one
else has touched. It made me want more. I didn’t just want to
have you
. I wanted to possess you. I wanted to make you
mine, to mark you so deeply that you could never be anyone else’s.
I want you, Sloane,” I confess, reaching out to stroke her satiny
cheek with the back of my index finger. “I always have. But it’s
not enough. It’s not enough just to have you once or twice, or for
a little while. I want you to be mine. Forever. Because I love you
even more than I want you. And I never want to let you go.
Never.”

Looking into her eyes, I see the break. I see
the moment she lets down her guard enough that I can see that she
still feels
something
for me other than hate. “Please tell
me you can forgive me, Sloane. Please. Tell me it’s not too late.”
It’s when I see her lips part to release a shaky breath that I lose
the tight grip I had on my control. “Ask me to kiss you, baby.
Please. Please, God, ask me to kiss you. I need you, Sloane. I need
to feel you.”

I’m crowding her. I know I am, but I can’t
help it. I want to touch her, to kiss her, to take her in my arms
so bad that I can almost taste it. Beyond the tequila, I can
remember what she tastes like on the tip of my tongue. And beyond
the tequila, I crave it. Like I’ve never craved anything else. Not
even revenge. Or justice.

I raise my hands to cup her face, begging
her, “Please, Sloane. Please.”

She searches my eyes for so long that I
actually ache for her. In my chest, in my gut, in my groin. In my
head. I want her with everything I am. And I want it all. All of
her. Body, heart and soul.

And then she mutters the words that turn my
world around. “Kiss me.”

So I do. I take her soft lips in a kiss
that’s as sweet as the love I feel for her. I drag my tongue over
the crease between them, drawing her bottom lip into my mouth and
sucking gently on it. I feel her groan, her minty breath warm on my
face.

When my tongue enters her mouth, hers is
there, licking at mine, teasing me with the memory of her. I reach
behind her, pressing my palm to her lower back and crushing her
body against mine. I feel her fingers weave through my hair and
hold on tight, driving me up to the next level of my repressed
desire.

I hold fast to the reins of my passion. Now
is not the time to lose it with her. She needs to
feel
what
I’m trying to say to her, she needs to
feel
how much she
means to me. She needs to know that it’s not all about sex; it’s
all about
love
.

Sloane jerks back, startling me as she looks
up into my face. There are tears in her eyes and a tremor in her
voice.

“Make love to me, Hemi,” she demands quietly.
“Make love to me and promise me that everything is going to be all
right.”

“I thought you didn’t want promises.”

“I’ve never wanted to believe one more than I
do right this minute. So tell me. Tell me all the pretty lies. Tell
me everything will be okay.”

One tear spills from her lashes and I kiss it
away with the feather light brush of my lips. “Everything
will
be okay, Sloane. I promise you. I promise you that I’ll
do everything in my power to make it that way. I’ll do anything for
you. Anything to make you happy. Just say you’ll stay. Say you’ll
stay with me and I’ll never have to feel miserable without you
again.”

More tears puddle in her eyes. “I’ll stay as
long as life lets me.”

And that’s enough for me.

When she presses her lips to mine, I let go
of all that I was holding onto. All the reservations, all the
anger, all the fear, and I dive into Sloane.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE- Sloane

My hands on Hemi are urgent. Touching. My
lips on Hemi’s are desperate. Tasting. My heart on Hemi is certain.
Exploding. I love him. And he loves me. There is no more perfect
day than today. After all the pain, there is joy. Joy unspeakable.
And I have no regret. It was worth it. Worth it all to hear him say
he loves me.

Hemi’s skin has never felt smoother under my
palms. His mouth has never tasted so sweet. It’s like rediscovering
him, like falling for him all over again. Only this time, there’s a
net to catch me. He’s my net because
he
loves
me,
too. And that makes him worth the risk. Worth anything.

My hands find their way to the towel wrapped
around his waist. I loosen it and let it fall, dragging my hand
over his hip until I can curl my fingers around his rigid length.
He groans into my mouth and I inhale it. I inhale
him.

“Sloane,” he whispers, his hands hard and
demanding, yet soft and giving on my body. With great care, he
peels my shirt off, then my skirt and panties, even bending to slip
my sandals from my feet. When he straightens, he backs up and lets
his eyes wander my naked frame. “You are so beautiful. And you’re
all mine. Always. All mine.”

He showers me with kisses. Everywhere from my
neck to my navel, I feel them like butterfly wings grazing me. So
light, so sweet, so far, far away. “Your skin is so hot,” he
breathes against me. “You’re burning up.”

I hear his voice like he’s a million miles
from me, speaking to me from the edge of paradise as I wade through
warm waters to reach him. I even hear the urgency in his voice. I
don’t really understand it, but I hear it.

“Sloane, look at me.” I try, but my eyelids
won’t obey. And then I feel the world dip and I’m falling. But,
just like I’d hoped, Hemi’s arms are there to catch me. He’ll keep
me safe. For as long as I have left, he’ll keep me safe.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR- Hemi

“Sloane!” I yell, my voice having grown
louder the longer she goes without responding to me. She just fell
in my arms, boneless and limp. Her cheeks are flushed and there’s a
fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead. Her skin is hot to the
touch. She’s burning up with fever. “Sloane, answer me!”

I lower her gently to the floor and she
moans. And not a good moan, but one of discomfort. Her brow
furrows, letting me know she’s in pain. Or that something is wrong.
Terribly, terribly wrong.

I scramble for my phone, dialing 911. It’s
all I know to do. I don’t know what happened. One minute she was
with me, the next she wasn’t.

I give them my emergency and my address, and
then I call the guard to let him know they’re coming. I scoop
Sloane up into my arms and carry her to the couch, running back for
her clothes and getting them back on her as quickly and gently as I
can. Even after manipulating her arms and legs, after lifting her
upper then lower body off the couch to redress her, she doesn’t
stir. She just turns her head from side to side, her brow still
wrinkled as she pants, short, shallow breaths.

I bolt up the stairs to grab some jeans and a
shirt, taking them back downstairs to dress beside Sloane so I can
keep an eye on her. I’m just pulling on my shoes near the door when
I hear the diesel engine of the ambulance as it pulls into my
driveway. I open the door and wait, half in-half out so I can watch
Sloane until they can get inside.

The EMTs rush in, carrying their stretcher
and a bag of supplies between them. Both are in their forties, I’d
say. Both look serious and competent, which makes me feel
better.

“Sir, can you tell me what happened?”

“She just collapsed in my arms and now she
won’t respond. Her skin is hot, like she’s feverish. Other than
that, I don’t know
what
happened.”

I feel an unhealthy fear gnawing at my gut. I
can’t lose her. Not now. Not like this. Not when there’s still so
much I want to say, so much I want to show her and prove to
her.

My heart is thundering inside my chest when
they set to work on her and can’t get a response either. “What’s
her name, sir?”

“Sloane.”

“Sloane!” he calls loudly. “Sloane, can you
open your eyes and look at me?”

Nothing. No flutter of her eyelids, no turn
of her head, no movement of her lips. Just nothing.

One EMT sets his stethoscope on her chest
while the other takes her hand and presses his fingernail into the
cuticle of hers. She doesn’t even twitch. They mutter back and
forth to each other with their findings. One questions me as they
transfer her onto the stretcher they carried in.

“Has she been drinking?”

“No, sir, not that I know of.”

“Does she take any medications?”

“Only birth control that I know of.”

“Is she allergic to anything?”

I shrug and shake my head, feeling so
helpless. “Not that I know of, but…”

He nods, making notes on the paper pinned to
his clipboard. “Sir, we’re gonna take her to the ER. She’s out, but
her vitals are stable right now. You’re welcome to ride with us if
you want.”

“Yes, I would, actually.”

“Are you a family member? Or is there an
emergency contact who should be notified to meet us at the
hospital?”

“I’m not…no, I’m not family, but I can use
her phone to contact her father on the way.”

“Sounds good. If you’ll do that, we’ll get
her in the squad.”

With that, the two EMTs lift Sloane, the legs
of the stretcher extending so that they can roll her out the door
and down the walk. Since Sloane didn’t bring a purse in, I run to
her car, grabbing it from the back seat and running back to the
ambulance to jump in the back with her.

I see her phone the instant I open her purse.
It’s in a little pocket on the side, obviously designed to hold a
phone. I take it out and scroll through her contacts until I find
her father’s information. I tap his cell number and listen to it
ring as the EMT cleans off her hand to start an IV.