Heart-Shaped Hack (24 page)

“You are
mine
.” He said it with conviction while looking into her eyes.

“Yes,” she said with equal conviction. “And you’re mine.”

He put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. She felt his hardness between her legs and pressed down on it, making him groan. He kissed her, gently at first and then slowly progressing to a rougher, almost bruising, meeting of their lips. There was something possessive about the way he claimed her mouth, and she responded with equal fervor as their tongues collided. He wound his fingers in her hair, tugged hard on it, and left a searing trail from her mouth to her throat. The pain and pleasure left behind by the scrape of his teeth made Kate ache. The next kiss was slow and whisper soft, and he lightly brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. The back-and-forth between rough and gentle, taking and giving, set Kate on fire.

He fluttered kisses along her collarbone, her shoulder. With agonizing slowness, he reached for the hem of her camisole and then pulled it over her head, baring her to the waist. He nuzzled his face in her breasts, cupping their soft weight and licking them until she was writhing under his touch. He began to suck, gently at first, but then Kate felt a stab of exquisite pain as he increased the pressure, sealing his mouth around her nipple in a way that would surely leave visual proof he’d been there. Only rarely did he mark her, and the few times it had happened had been accidental. But Kate thought he’d meant to do it this time and was shocked by how much she liked it.

He put his hand down the front of her boy shorts, groaning when he discovered how aroused she was. As he stroked her, she arched into his hand, inhaling sharply and then sighing softly. His touch was light, teasing, and Kate thought she might fall apart right there on the couch.

“I love watching you, listening to the sounds you make.” He took his hand out of her shorts, and without removing her from his lap, he stood.

She was never more aware of his size and strength than when he picked her up like that, as if she weighed nothing. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked toward the bedroom, his hands gripping her backside. After laying her down, he stripped off his clothes and dragged the boy shorts down her legs. Lying between them, he braced one of his elbows against her thigh, holding her open as his tongue traced a pattern and his fingers stroked her. She writhed underneath him, holding him in place, taking what she wanted, what she needed.

Kate was glad they’d taken the time to get tested and no longer needed condoms because as soon as she came, he entered her as if he couldn’t possibly wait another second. His thrusts were urgent, relentless, and there was something about the way he covered her body with his, pinning her underneath him without worrying he’d break her, that she loved.

His groans and his ragged breathing told her it wouldn’t be long for him. Another minute or two and she’d be able to get there again herself.

“Harder,” she gasped, and it was like throwing gasoline on an already raging fire as he complied.

“Kate,” he said, and she knew he was barely hanging on.

She answered him with her cries, and seconds later he joined her. It was the closest they’d ever come to finding their release at the same time, and she felt every pulse of his as the aftershocks of her own washed over her.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,” Ian said.

“Neither have I,” Kate said, trying to catch her breath.

He clung to her tightly. “Don’t ever lose faith in me.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

Why was he mentioning that now? He’d won her over, and she believed in him wholeheartedly. He was nothing like the man he’d seemed when she’d met him, and she understood it now. Knew why he’d come on so strong. It would take a certain kind of woman to be with him. Strong, fearless. Tolerant. Just like he’d told her in the beginning.

She
was
that woman.

And he was the man she hadn’t known she’d needed until the day she’d crashed into him on the sidewalk.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Kate received a text from Ian shortly before she left work on Monday.

Ian:
I’m going to take the Shelby for a spin. I hope she starts and that those boneheads at the storage facility haven’t been joyriding in her all winter.

Kate:
Better do it soon. It’s supposed to snow. Again.

Ian:
I love you, sweetness. So much.

That made her smile.

Kate:
I love you too.

By four thirty, when Kate walked home from the Pilates class she’d taken after work, the sky had turned dark and rain was falling. She’d forgotten to bring an umbrella and the icy drops pelted her cheeks. Ducking her head, she quickened her step, but by the time she walked in the door of her apartment her hair was soaked. In the bathroom, she stripped off her wet clothes and turned on the water, waiting until it turned hot and steamy. After her shower, she wrapped herself in her robe and sat down on the couch, throwing a blanket over her lap. She clicked on the TV and listened to the Channel 5 meteorologist issue a winter storm warning for the overnight hours. Kate groaned. March snowstorms were the worst: icy, slushy, heavy, and wet. The rain would soon be changing to snow and the National Weather Service predicted totals of six to eight inches for the area, along with high winds.

Kate:
Looks like you got that drive in right under the wire. I hope the Shelby has now been returned to its spot at the storage facility. Come home and keep me warm! Let’s order in.

She watched the rest of the newscast, and when it was over she picked up her phone. Ian hadn’t responded yet, and Kate hoped that meant he was on his way. She was excited to talk to him about North Carolina. The food pantry had been slow that day, and she’d spent some time in the afternoon reading about Charlotte. She dreaded turning in her resignation, but she was starting to look forward to the move and planned on breaking the news to her parents in the next day or two. Her mother would be happy for Kate, and even if she did have a few reservations, she probably wouldn’t utter them. Her dad might be a different story, but telling him she was going with Ian would likely go over better than when she told him she was going to stop practicing law. He’d probably try to convince her to return to it now that she’d no longer be responsible for the food pantry.

Kate felt a slight prickle of unease when Ian had not arrived by seven. She opened the app on her phone to track him and clicked on Ian’s Phone. But instead of a pinpoint on a map she got the word Offline. Her forehead creased in confusion. Was there a problem with the app? He wouldn’t have turned off the location function, would he? She called him, but it went straight to voice mail.

Kate set the phone on the coffee table and went to the window. The rain had changed to snow and was coming down hard, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle in his SUV. The Shelby, however, would be a different story. The temperature had plummeted and the wet streets would be icy under the layer of snow. The rear-wheel-drive car would be helpless in those conditions.

She fidgeted, unable to keep still, and she paced as the hours crept by. At eleven she drove to his apartment. The roads were horrible, and she had to fight to keep the TrailBlazer from fishtailing and sliding through intersections. When she arrived, she went to the main entrance to buzz him since she didn’t have a key. She pushed the button on the intercom for fifteen seconds straight and waited a full minute between each attempt. There was only silence in return.

Finally she went home.

She spent the night in the chair by the window, watching the snowflakes as they passed through the beam of the streetlight, her emotions cycling rapidly between frustration and fear, confusion and resignation. She wanted to heave something at the glass, feel the satisfaction and hear the crash when it shattered.

Every twenty minutes, she’d tap Ian’s Phone on the app.

Every time it said Offline.

Though he’d promised he wouldn’t, he’d left without telling her. There was no other logical reason for why he was not curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace with her.

She watched the sky lighten as the sun came up. At seven, she decided she would try his apartment again. Fighting tears, she pulled on her boots and wrapped a scarf around her neck. The roads were still a mess, and it took longer than usual to get downtown. She drove carelessly, her mind occupied by more important things.

A man wearing a dark gray sweatshirt with the hood up was sitting on a bench in the entryway of Ian’s building. Kate ignored him and crossed to the bank of intercoms, angrily jabbing the button for Ian’s apartment. No buzzer sounded in return, no voice spoke to her through the speaker.

Goddamn you, Ian
.

She stood there, trying to figure out what to do next. Should she wait? If she called the rental office and told them she was worried about him, would they let her in? Tears filled her eyes, and she exhaled in frustration and swiped at them with the back of her hand. The man in the hooded sweatshirt was watching her, and Kate turned away because she didn’t want him to know she was crying. If he asked her what was wrong, she’d probably break down sobbing. Kate decided that if she didn’t hear from Ian by noon, she
would
call the rental office. And if they let her in and she discovered his things were gone, she had no idea what she’d do.

On the West River Parkway, traffic came to a crawl at Second Street South near the Stone Arch Bridge. It was a little before eight, and at first she attributed the delay to the street conditions and morning rush hour. But as she inched closer, she noticed the people standing in front of a chain-link fence and how the fence was mangled like something had driven right through it. She hadn’t come this way last night, had chosen instead to reach downtown via Hennepin Avenue.

Behind the fence was an embankment, and below that the Mississippi River. Traffic had all but stopped by then, and a few curious motorists, frustrated with the delay, got out of their cars and went to get a closer look. Kate wished she hadn’t taken this route. She wanted to get home. What if Ian was there now?

Kate pounded the steering wheel and threw open her door. She pushed through the crowd, elbowing her way closer to the fence where she hoped to find a policeman who would tell everyone to get back in their cars and clear the way so she could leave.

Bystanders were pointing at something, and Kate craned her neck to get a better view. Her knees buckled when she saw the blue car with white racing stripes, its raised bumper attached to the chain of a tow truck that was parked at the edge of the riverbank.

The voices became a roar in her head as she caught snippets of their conversations:

—“Truck slid on the ice and hit him from behind.”

—“Crashed through the fence and disappeared under the water.”

—“Road conditions were horrible. No reason to be out driving in that.”

—“It must have happened fast, caught him off guard.”

—“Someone said they found him downstream.”

Kate zeroed in on the man who had made the last comment, her heart soaring.
He had crashed but someone had found him! He was hurt. That’s why he hadn’t called.

“Where? Where is he now?” Kate screamed, yanking on his sleeve.

“The morgue, probably. Not much they could do for him at that point.”

An anguished cry tore from her throat, and she fled.

The man shouted after her. “Miss? Are you okay?”

There had never been a time in all her years on earth when she’d felt such visceral pain. It was as if the loss was physical, her heart torn in half, beyond repair. The beat itself seemed irregular, and Kate thought she might be going into shock. When she reached her car, she slid behind the wheel and closed the door as sobs wracked her body.

The man was wrong. Someone had found Ian. Taken him to their home and given him a blanket. Warmed him up and called him a cab. He was probably on his way home to her right now. He would walk through the door and say, “Gotcha, Katie Long Legs! Boy, did that suck.”

It’s twenty-two degrees outside, and even colder in the water. If he was okay, he would have called.

The crowd had dissipated and traffic was moving freely by the time she felt capable of driving. Numb, Kate put the car in gear and shivered uncontrollably all the way home. When she entered her apartment, she looked around expectantly, praying desperately that she’d find Ian on the couch with his laptop and a cup of coffee.

Silence greeted her.

She sat on the couch, rocking back and forth, running her hands up and down her arms because she couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t get warm. She turned on the TV. Channel 5 was covering the story, and just before nine the newscaster announced that a body had been recovered and the victim identified as thirty-two-year-old Ian Merrick.

His last name is Bradshaw. It’s not him!

But Kate knew it was him. She ran to the bathroom where she emptied the paltry contents of her stomach, the bitter taste of bile coating her mouth. She flushed and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

For as much as she’d worried about the things Ian was involved in and those who might want to find him, she’d never once worried about the one thing she should have: that he was not actually a superhero and was no less mortal than she or anyone else. In Kate’s mind, Ian was invincible. Larger than life. To lose him in something as ordinary as a car accident was perhaps the most unexpected blow of all. Feeling hollow and empty, she laid her head on the floor and wished she could disappear. Just wither up and float away.

But floating made her think of water, and it was then she realized that the reason Ian hadn’t called and the app said Offline was because his phone had likely been carried away by the current of the cold and muddy Mississippi River.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

After sitting on the floor of the bathroom for an indeterminable amount of time, Kate called her mom. She needed Diane’s comfort more than anything, but she knew the minute she made the call everything would become real.