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  It was a desperate, risky ploy, one that didn't ensure Jonah's freedom or Mitch's safety. So he kept it to himself for now, waiting until Alaina seemed less fragile. Maybe he wouldn't even tell her. He'd just go do it and apologize profusely later. If all went well, he would return with her son. He was certain all would be forgiven then.

  He cleared his throat. "Are you hungry?" They hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was already mid-afternoon.

  "Not really." She seemed to dodge him to go to the windows, where she peered out at the gray day as if it were the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

  Distance. He was disappointed by it, but it didn't surprise him. She'd had a tough day. The exchange with her sister had no doubt ripped open old wounds.

  Yet, there was something more. She'd avoided his gaze when she'd come out of the bathroom, and that was unlike her. Crossing to her, he slipped his arms around her from behind and drew her against him. Her resistance alarmed him. "Talk to me, Alaina. Please."

  She turned into his arms, ran her hands under his shirt. "I don't want to talk."

  * * *

  Addison tossed her purse and keys onto the counter and lowered herself to a kitchen stool. Her head ached from all the wine she had consumed. Her heart ached from what Alaina had told her. And for the first time, Addison saw the past clearly.

  It struck her how thoroughly their lives had contradicted expectations. Addison had been considered the smart sister with loads of potential. She had married well and had an impressive home and philanthropic career. She had been the golden child, the one considered most likely to succeed. The strong one.

  Alaina had been the rebel with creative aspirations that were not only considered unrealistic but defied her father's wishes. She had lived for fun, her behavior, though not a harm to anyone but perhaps herself, occasionally causing the family embarrassment.

  Addison had looked down on her at the same time that she had admired her ability to cut loose and have a good time. Addison never would have dreamed of staying out past curfew or borrowing their mother's car without asking. She certainly never would have dared to strew streamers of toilet paper through the trees of a friend's house. But Alaina had done it, gotten caught and spent the night in juvenile detention because of it.

  Her rebellion had only burgeoned after their father refused to let her attend an audition at Juilliard. Alaina had been crushed, and looking back now, Addison began to understand why her sister had become ever more defiant, skipping school, staying out all night, coming home with alcohol on her breath. She'd been angry, frustrated, and perhaps those were the only times she felt able to exert some control over her own life.

  Things got much worse a month after Addison and Layton were married, when Alaina told them that Layton had raped her and she was pregnant with his child. Paul hadn't believed her story about the attack for an instant. He'd accused Alaina of making it up to cover for her no-good boyfriend. What else could they have been doing together into the wee hours of the morning besides boozing it up and having unprotected sex?

  Addison hadn't believed her either, and she'd been livid at the lie, accusing Alaina of coveting Layton from the start. It was obvious in the way she flirted with him at every opportunity. Alaina's crush on Layton was no secret. It was also no secret, Addison charged, that Alaina was insanely jealous of Addison. Addison had the gorgeous fiancé and their father's adoring attention. Paul had often told Alaina she needed to be more like Addison.

  Then, shockingly, Layton had confessed that he and Alaina had indeed had intercourse, that he had been drunk and unable to turn away when Alaina had aggressively seduced him.

  Looking back, Addison saw how shrewd that move had been. He'd seen "the big picture," as her father had often put it when he talked about Layton's excellent management skills. Assuming that eventually a paternity test would show that the child was his, Layton had used their weaknesses against them. He'd exploited Alaina's lack of credibility with Paul brought on by her constant rebellion. Paul adored him, considered him the son he'd never had, so when it came down to a "he said, she said," Paul chose to believe the one he trusted: Layton. After all, he had reasoned, Layton didn't have to confess to anything. He could have simply denied that anything ever happened between him and Alaina. Plus, there was the matter of why Alaina had waited until after she'd discovered she was pregnant to say anything about the alleged attack. Her response that she'd known her father would never take her word over Layton's had sent him into a spitting rage.

  With Addison, Layton had played perfectly to her conviction that Alaina was jealous of their relationship and had conspired to steal him away. While babbling out apologies and self-recriminations, he had reluctantly (so it seemed) revealed that Alaina had laughed about their encounter afterward, saying she couldn't wait to see the look on Addison's face when she found out. He'd pleaded with Alaina to not say anything because he knew Addison would be devastated, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt the only woman he'd ever loved. He told Addison that once it became clear that Alaina was pregnant, he knew he had to come clean about his lapse and beg for forgiveness.

  Addison remembered being almost eager to forgive him. He -- the handsome, charming and very coveted Layton Keller -- was her husband. Everyone loved him. Alaina was the only one who had anything bad to say about him. That made it very clear to Addison that Alaina was the liar and that Layton had merely stumbled unwittingly into her trap.

  Only Eve -- Alaina and Addison's mother -- had questioned Layton's claims of drunken and weak male resistance, Addison recalled. Only Eve had been horrified at what had transpired between her youngest daughter and her oldest daughter's fiancé. She had tried to insist that Alaina's claims be investigated, perhaps even by the police. But Paul had shot her down in a thundering tone that had brooked no argument. The publicity alone would be devastating, both to the reputation of an innocent man and the image of a well-respected family already made shaky by Alaina's earlier transgressions. Eve, having been cowed by him for nearly twenty-five years by then, had meekly shut up.

  The depth of betrayal staggered Addison. That she and her parents had been so cleverly manipulated by a man they trusted ... she still couldn't quite grasp it. And she didn't think she would ever be able to comprehend what it had been like for Alaina.

  "There you are."

  She turned, surprised to see Layton in his trademark position, one shoulder leaning casually against the door frame, hands in his pockets. "Where have you been?" he asked. He acted casual, curious.

  "I had an appointment," she said.

  "I see. Were you driving?"

  The question threw her. "Of course. Why?"

  "You're drunk. In fact, you've been spending entirely too much time drunk. Perhaps it's time for you to seek help."

  "Why? So you can get me declared incompetent and screw me over in the divorce?"

  He smiled, and there was no humor in the expression. "You're too quick for me, Addy."

  "You won't get away with it, Layton. I won't let you."

  "What, exactly, are you not going to let me get away with?" he asked. "Because you've let me get away with a lot over the years."

  "I didn't know then --"

  "Sure you did," he cut in with a smirk. "On some level, you knew all along what I was doing. And you let me because it got you what you wanted."

  "I didn't want you to rape my sister."

  "No, that was just a bonus."

  "You bastard!" She launched herself at him, fingers hooked and aimed at his eyes.

  Catching her by the wrists, he shoved her back against the counter. And chuckled. "Gee, Addy, it took you only fifteen years to work up that indignant rage."

  Shame erupted inside her, and she tried to jerk away, but he held fast to her wrists. "I believed you," she said through her teeth. "I loved you."

  "No, you didn't. You loved that your father loved me. You loved what I looked like and what you looked like next to me. You loved the image we pres
ented of the perfect couple with the perfect marriage who lived in the perfect house and hosted perfect parties. We both got what we wanted from each other, Addy, but it wasn't love. It was never about love. And face it, if you truly loved me, you never would have ratted me out to the feds."

  She gaped at him.

  He began to laugh. "You're so cute when you're shocked. Yeah, I know what you've been up to. In fact, I knew every move you made before that new guy took over."

  "Agent Potter told you?"

  "Someone in his office, actually. I knew about the listening devices, the deal you made to protect Alaina, everything."

  "But why didn't you --"

  His icy eyes danced with smug satisfaction. "Because, Addy, honey, if I'd let on that I knew what you were doing, someone would have figured out that I had sources in the FBI. And, at the time, finding Alaina and her brat were more important to me than punishing you for betraying me." He paused, pursed his lips. "Though I am curious about what tipped you off."

  She gave him a smug smile of her own. "I overheard you on the phone. You said 'kill the bitch and bring the kid to me.' I may be an expert at denial, but there was no plausible explanation for that one. So tell me, Layton, what do you want with the son you never wanted in the first place?"

  He made an impatient gesture. "I don't have time for this. I have preparations to make. Your sister is paying us a visit tonight."

  That startled her, and she blurted, "I wouldn't count on it."

  His gaze sharpened. "Why would you say that?"

  Realizing her blunder, she tried to shrug it off. "Forget it." Grabbing her purse and keys off the counter, she turned to walk out of the kitchen, only to surge back when he came at her. The counter at her back stopped her retreat, and he cornered her against it, a hand braced on either side of her.

  "What did you mean by that?" he asked.

  She saw in his eyes a feral determination to tear apart anything or anyone who stood in his way, and she couldn't help it. He scared the living crap out of her. "Nothing," she said. "I misspoke."

  "No, you didn't. Have you had contact with her?"

  "Of course not."

  "I know when you're lying, Addison. You suck at it, just like she does. Now tell me what's going on."

  She swallowed against the fear constricting her lungs. "I'm not going to tell you anything."

  He bracketed her throat with one hand. "Yes, you are."

  Chapter 34

  Alaina's body hummed with satisfaction, every nerve alive and screaming. She was conscious of her heart thumping in time with Mitch's as she lay sprawled on top of him, their bodies slick with perspiration.

  "You alive?" he asked.

  She smiled, her damp cheek pressed to his sweat-slick shoulder. "Barely."

  "Me either." His palms brushed over her back, ever in motion, as if he couldn't stop touching her, caressing her. "Will you talk to me now?"

  Raising her head, she gazed down into his fathomless, dark brown eyes. She couldn't believe he had happened to her. In a matter of days. It didn't make sense any way she looked at it. She also couldn't imagine what life would be like without him.

  He sifted his fingers through her hair, smoothed damp strands back from her forehead. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

  A lump formed in her throat, and she closed her eyes.

  "Please don't do that," he murmured.

  She looked at him, taken aback by the raw emotion in his gaze. "Yes, I trust you."

  "Then tell me why you just made love to me like it was the last time."

  "It's nothing." She tried to draw away, but he held on, almost desperately.

  "You're pulling away from me, distancing yourself," he said. "Why?"

  "I love you." She said it without thinking, then immediately regretted it. What was the point of saying it? In a matter of hours, it wouldn't matter.

  He looked stunned, then slowly smiled. "Really?"

  She curled her fingers around his wrists, drew his hands from her. "Yes, really. And I don't know what to do about it."

  He sat up as she shifted away from him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she reached for the T-shirt he'd pulled off of her an hour ago. She felt less vulnerable with it on, her back to him.

  "If there's anything to be done about it," he drawled, "I'd say we just did it."

  She glanced at him over her shoulder, noted the satisfaction that curved his lips. She remembered what his mouth, his tongue had done to her body minutes before, and her pulse stammered. For a moment, she couldn't think.

  Grinning, Mitch shifted so that he was behind her. He ran his warm hands over her shoulders, down her back, around to the front of the T-shirt and under the hem, then filled them with her breasts. She shuddered, her breath catching. "We can do it again, if you'd like," he whispered near her ear, his teeth catching her earlobe.

  She turned into him, fusing her mouth with his, diving her fingers into his hair. He chuckled, his body vibrating against hers, when she pushed him back and straddled him. He rolled her under him and pinned her with his hips. "I get to be on top this time," he growled.

  She answered by dragging his head down to her, where she kissed him deeply, her tongue tangling with his.

  Did she trust him? Yes. Yes yes yes.

  His hands seemed to be everywhere, already knowing what she liked and giving it to her. She reveled in the sensations, committing every caress, every indrawn breath to memory. Because this really would be the last time.

  She heard the rip of the telltale foil packet, then he was braced above her. "Open your eyes, Alaina."

  She did.

  His gaze delved into hers, seeking, seeking ... what?

  He sank into her slowly, with a long groan. She took him in, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. He felt so good ... he made her feel everything.

  When he began to move, she crested almost immediately, and he paused as the shudders rippled through her, his body tense, his muscles seeming to strain against the need to take. "You do that so easily," he said, kissing her eyelids, her nose.

  She tried to catch her breath, intensely aware of their link, of how her body throbbed around his. Holding still had to be killing him. "Why don't you join me?"

  "It's too soon," he said. "It's only been five minutes."

  "Who's got the stopwatch?"

  "I'm not a damn teenager. I have far more restraint."

  "It's okay. I don't mind."

  He answered by lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue. The tug nearly sent her over again, but then he started moving, slowly, leisurely, building the ache until it blossomed and spread.

  She held onto his shoulders, her face buried against his neck. His arms were wrapped tightly around her as he rocked into her, as if he couldn't hold her close enough.

  When her body went rigid, her breath sobbing out, her head dropping back, he held her against him, waited for the quake to ease, then began again.

  "I can't," she panted. "No more ... I can't ..."

  He silenced her, burying his mouth on hers as he eased her back, flattening her hands against the bed and sinking his fingers between hers, linking them.

  He began pumping his hips, fast now, grinding, demanding, driving. Colored lights exploded in her head. Rainbows and kaleidoscopes and fireworks. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. When her body began to buck again, he let himself go and joined her.

  Afterward, Alaina couldn't lift her arms. She wanted to hug him, hold him. But she couldn't move. He must have felt the same, because he lay limp on top of her, his breathing harsh, sweat trickling down his temple. She marveled at the satisfying weight of him, reveled in the sensation of their still-linked bodies.

  Raising his head, he kissed her. "Told you I had more restraint."

  "That was restraint?"

  He laughed, still breathing hard. "You have no idea."

  The idea of living without him physically hurt.

  His gaze grew serious, as i
f he sensed her growing despair. "What is it?"

  When she shook her head, he gently withdrew and lay beside her, drawing her against him. "Please tell me. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out."

  As she lay in his arms, feeling the heat of his body against her, she realized that she couldn't live without him. She wasn't strong enough to walk away, to spare him. She was selfish and in love. Human. She pulled in a breath, let it slowly out. And prayed she wasn't about to sign his death warrant. "Addison is taking Jonah to Pentagon City at six. To meet me."

  Sitting up, Mitch glanced at the clock. "We have an hour and a half."

  "I was going to ditch you."

  He looked at her, his eyes at once hurt, then shadowed. "I see."

  "I couldn't stand it if something happens to you because of --" She choked as the memory of Emma dead on the floor filled her head.

  He leaned toward her, took her face into his hands and kissed her. When he eased back, the hurt in his gaze had been replaced by an understanding that she couldn't comprehend. "I heard what you told Addison about the kind woman who took you and Jonah in. What happened to her wasn't your fault, Alaina."

  She hid her face against his throat as hot tears began to fall. He knew her so well already, knew how she thought. "I exposed her to danger when I let her get close to me," she said. "I never warned her that she was vulnerable."

  He held her close, soothing her with a warm hand stroking her bare back. "When you ran away with Jonah, did it ever occur to you that Keller would kill to get him back?"

  As his words, spoken in a low voice near her ear, sank in, her racing heartbeat calmed. She remembered being frightened of Layton, of worrying about being forever separated from Jonah, of going to prison. But Mitch was right. Even after Emma had died, Alaina hadn't feared that Layton would try to kill her or anyone she cared about. The man who'd tried to blackmail her hadn't been sent by Layton and had at first seemed to have no intention of harming her. After that, her determination to keep her distance from others had been just as much about protecting herself as protecting them.