The Bounty Hunters: The Marino Bros.: Box Set (114 page)

Cat almost cried at the beautiful words coming from his mouth. No one had ever said anything so nice to her before in her entire life. Instead she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. In that instant, she knew what it was like to have a heart, and feel cherished. And what it was like to love. She had never experienced that before.

But still unsure of what she should trust, she parted. Looking deeply into his eyes, she expressed herself as best she could. “Andreas. That was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.” He kept looking at her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He waited for her to continue knowing instinctually she was not done, or ready for more right now. “I think I will go lie down. I need to think about this, us. Do you understand?”

“I do, Cat. Please let me walk you upstairs though, and see you to your room. Take all the time you need.”

*     *     *

The days passed
quickly and he spent much of his free time with her. She was getting used to the large family, and they were enjoying her company as well. He worked more at night after she had gone to bed, but was still making no headway with tracking down this killer and the identity he was now using.

The police had come once more to question her, and they were no longer sharing any information other than the fact that the fingerprints found in her apartment matched Romeo’s. He was working it alone now.

But they agreed to put work behind them for the day, and just enjoy a family holiday. Cat looked forward to it a great deal. It had been a long time since she had celebrated one. And that had been when she was a child.

Around eleven in the morning, with the other women still in the kitchen she popped her head into the study. The men greeted her warmly. “I need to steal Andreas for just a minute,” she interrupted. “I need him to taste my treat.”

After a brief pregnant pause, the men all burst into laughter and Cat was startled by the large guffaws that permeated the room. When Gio made lascivious actions with his tongue, she did something else she had not done in some time. She blushed, and that angered her. “My wine, you buffoon,” she added petulantly then stomped out of the room with Andreas after her. He worked hard to suppress his own laughter, glaring at Gio who was crying from laughing so hard.

He caught up to her as she was about to pass the dining room. “Cat, come in here. My brother can be a pig. I’m sorry. He meant no harm.”

“A great big pig,” she pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “I was embarrassed.”

He rolled his lips over his teeth trying not to laugh. “I’ll make him apologize,” he stated stiffly.

“You think it is funny too?” she asked, her anger turning on him.

He took her arms, and brought her closer. “It’s our American humor. Inappropriate at times. More so when we are just with family. But, take it as a compliment that he felt comfortable enough to tease you.”

“I don’t know,” she contemplated, but looked up at Andreas whose eyes were twinkling at her. She had the urge to feel his gruff. She wanted to feel it again on her cheeks.

“I suppose,” she murmured.

“Very good, Cat.” His hands on her arms now began to stroke them. His mirth was beginning to turn into something more.

She felt the goosebumps, and could not help let a low moan escape from her lips. She stepped closer, almost touching her breasts to his broad chest. Her body’s instinct to make contact with him was overpowering her. His hands made her feel alive. She swayed towards him and they were touching. He groaned primitively.

“You like that?” he asked, purring the words seductively, his face buried in her hair breathed in its scent.

“I do. It feels . . . . Nice,” she murmured feeling limp.

“Nice?” he asked beginning to change the pattern by making swirls along her arms.

“Mhmm, yes, and I have been thinking I would like you to kiss me gain, like you did by the pool. I want to know if it will feel the same.”

Andreas laughed sexily, and pulled back just a hair so he could see her face. “I would love to do that.”

Her body was already on fire. Ignited by his words, his every touch. She felt her nipples pucker even before his lips were on her.

“Do you want me to kiss you now, Cat?’

“Yes. Please!” she whined as the muscles between her legs clamped tightly and she felt warmth pool inside her pussy. She had to squeeze her legs together.

Leaning against the buffet, he positioned her between his long legs, and held her tightly.

Again, she felt more connected to this man than ever. That was her last thought. As soon as his lips touched hers, all she could do was feel. Divine. Limp. Excited. She wanted more.

When it was over and he pulled back, his smile told her wanted more. Needed it. But his single word, confused her.

“Well?” he asked.

Her mind had lost its ability to form a coherent thought. She lay her head against his strong chest as he stoked her back which only kept her dizzy. “Well what?” she replied.

“Did it feel as good as last time, Cat?” he asked, chuckling and she could feel the rumble vibrate in his chest.

“Better,” was her answer.

It was for him too. Each time he touched her, kissed her, held her, he wanted more. They held on to one another for a moment longer, until the sounds of Johnny running out of the study made them part. They could hear his voice in the hallway calling out, “Uncle Andy, it’s your turn. I just slaughtered Uncle Nikko, and now it’s your turn to face defeat.”

Cat shook her head and laughed at the intrusion.

“I better go.” He indicted the direction his nephew’s voice was going.

“Oh, but my wine,” she stopped him with a hand on his arm. She could feel the muscles jump beneath the skin at her touch. It made her feel suddenly powerful.

“The wine tasted fine, Cat. Delicious.”

She focused on his face, tearing her eyes away from his arms. “What?”

“I tasted it on you,” he teased and winked and added mischievously, “It was a treat.” He gave her a peck on the cheek and went off to find his nephew.

With her hand to her mouth, she suddenly realized what he had meant. She had tasted the wine to see if it was sweet enough, and he tasted it when they kissed. Feeling warm, she made her way back to the kitchen.

*     *     *

The day had
been perfect. Perfect. Thanksgiving was always one of his favorite holidays because it always brought his family together. His home had been fuller than it had been in a long time. All of his brother’s had married in the past year, and their wives brought laughter into their lives. And love. Love, he thought, as he twirled the stem of his wine glass, watching Cat who had been given a seat next to his Aunt Mary.

She was sitting at the opposite end of the table. He watched her talk to his aunt, and several times, saw her touch the older woman’s hand, laughing while they talked. His Aunt had been born in the old county. She had come to America as a young girl after World War II. From the snippets of conversation he could hear across the expanse, they were sharing stories of life in Europe versus America. She would occasionally glance his way, and when she did, their eyes locked, and she would blush and turn away.

There was something happening between the two of them. They both knew it. It was more than simple attraction. Andreas was just surprised he wasn’t running away scared, and that he didn’t want to run. But he knew he still needed to take his time with her.

*     *     *

When Aunt Mary
and Nick, Monica and the babies left, the other Marinos dispersed to their respective rooms leaving Cat and Andreas alone in the study. Cat, full from trying all the specialties made, yawned but patted her belly appreciatively. She was reclining on one of the sofas, and looked quite comfortable.

Hating to disturb her, he asked her if she would like a drink, and she shook her head in the negative before replying. “No, thank you. I have never eaten so much in my life. I don’t think there is room in there,” she laughed still patting her stomach.

“Even as a child,” he asked, “You never gorged like that?”

“No, on holidays, we paced ourselves a bit more than that. But, no.”

He joined her on the sofa, pulling her legs onto his lap and was pleased when she didn’t resist. “Well, I’m glad you experienced this tradition with me.” He patted her legs, and when she still didn’t pull away, he tentatively stroked one leg from the knee cap down.

“When I . . . was a captive, sometimes even a small meal was difficult to come by. The men who held us were always afraid of us getting fat.” She hadn’t known where that had come from as she rarely thought about that time.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He could only sympathize, he could never understand, so he said no more. He would allow her to reveal what she wanted to in her own time.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It made me who I am. I quite like the life I have made, and even if others do not understand it, I have helped the girls who worked for me. It pains me deeply that three of them have lost their lives to this madman.”

“I know it does. I can relate to that. I feel guilt too, Cat. If I would have caught him all those years ago then they would still be here, and others.”

“Is that what makes you so stern at times, Andreas?” she asked as he continued to stroke her legs. It felt quite divine and she did not want him to stop.

“Yes, and no,” he answered vaguely.

“I notice, like me, you don’t like to show your feelings,” she added when he looked up.

He smiled softly at her, understanding. “I mask my emotions from my brothers out of the need to be the strong one for them, and out of guilt. Why do you hide yours, Cat?”

“Hmm, well, that’s a good question. I guess, when I was first taken, showing my emotions often got me beaten or worse. Denied food, or water, when I was little. Then, later, it was to not let my captors know they had beaten me, taken my soul.”

“Did they, Cat? Take your soul?” he asked curious as to how she had survived it all.

“When I was on the streets in Amsterdam, for two years Andreas, I was a runner. I ran errands for some of the girls in the red light district. It was a way to survive. I had heard stories of children in foster care, and so chose my own path.”

“But you were only nine?” he questioned revealing he knew the timeline of her existence.

Her eyes had that faraway look in them. She was remembering. “Yes, but even at nine, I was old. My mother died of a drug overdose, and her parents were dead. I came to live with my great grandmother then. She was a strong woman, a survivor of the Holocaust. She taught me much, all that I needed to know to survive. My grandfather was her liberator. A Russian soldier who had come into her camp after the fall of Berlin.”

“Wow, Cat. I had no idea.” This was not in any of the documents he had received from Connor.

“Yes, well, she sent me to school to learn the basics, but I learned more from her in those six years than I had from anyone else.” His hands on her legs felt right. She wondered briefly why she was telling him so much. But, she wanted him to know her. The real her. “From her, I learned to survive in a cruel world. She told me of her experiences and how she survived. She had two daughters, one who died young, and then my grandmother. Her name was Nelda, and she became a doctor. She was very proud of that. Her daughter, a doctor. Nelda had two children, one of whom was my mother. My grandmother was killed picking up her other daughter, who was sixteen, at a party she was not supposed to be at. My mother was only 14 and missed her sister and mother terribly. She began to be reckless, and my great grandmother, Katarina Rose, for whom I was named, could not console her. She did drugs, and found herself pregnant. I was three and my mother died at her own hand. My father, a soldier she had met on leave, never knew of my existence. An American. That is why I was allowed to stay in this country. An accident of birth.”