He moved like a pro, easily and quickly, and when she spotted the Celtic vines at his wrists peeking from underneath his shirt, her heart soared. Whitney’s name. On his thick, tanned wrists. Joy rushed through her at the reminder that she still wore his name, when she’d been so close to removing him.
“Have a good life in hell,” Andrew murmured to the unconscious man.
He ushered her out into his car, telling her the police would arrive there any minute, and as he drove, she curled into the front passenger seat and listened to his lulling voice as he talked to a police officer. Apparently his driver, Jerry, was also being apprehended for aiding in the kidnapping and blackmail.
When he hung up, she covered his hand on the gear shift, and the ache in her chest which had throbbed for years during his absence was now replaced with a feeling of love and safety that flooded every corner of her being.. “What did I do to deserve you?” she whispered.
He looked down at her with those liquid coal eyes. “You were born.”
***
Andrew spent the day at the Chicago Police Department, wrapping things up with the officer in charge of the investigation. Jerry easily confessed that he’d been keeping Joe informed because of the money, while Joe kept telling the police that Whitney had murdered his father, and the police, thank goodness, laughed and dismissed the charge.
Andrew knew that with him as a secret confessed “murderer,” she could never be charged.
He also met with Graves so he could deactivate her phone.
When he got home, he showered, waiting for Whitney to return. Chloe had come to pick her up while he was with the police, because Whitney wanted to bring her things back over.
His heart pounded in anticipation of seeing her. Talking to her and holding her.
When he emerged from his shower, he was struck with déjà vu, and suddenly it was their first night together, all over again.
Whitney stood naked at his bedroom door, red hair tumbling from her shoulders, perfect curves and puckered breasts.
Adrenaline rushed through him as their gazes met.
Primal red-hot possessiveness rippled off him in waves, and he needed her. He’d been scared. And so had she. And she knew the truth now. And he had to mate with her. Now.
There were no more lies between them
.
She wanted to show him she was independent and he knew. But he still needed her. And she still needed him.
And they were bound.
His heart pounded. “They’re both going to be locked up for a long, long time,” he said softly, as he approached.
“What I want to know,” she said, pressing her body to his as she softly kissed his chest, then his collarbone, then his Adam’s apple, “is why you didn’t tell me where you were?”
“You suffered enough.” He engulfed her jaw with one hand and tipped her head back to his. “I don’t ever want you feeling guilty about it. I did it because I wanted to. I was fed well. I had a couple of hours outside. The worst was having no contact with you. That’s what was hell. I swear I could’ve lived in a palace, but it would be hell being apart from you.”
The pain in her eyes warmed him, if only because he knew she cared. “Did you have friends, Andy?”
“A couple.”
“Did you have problems with any? Did you suffer from . . .”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and drank in her face, and the fact that there was no more reproach in her gaze. Only love. Love for him. His chest swelled with gratitude. “No, there were no problems. It’s very secure. The men locked in there are powerful businessmen and politicians, well guarded and protected.” He surveyed her reaction, then he added, “Prostitutes were brought in once a month, and that’s how I could send letters. I’d have them bring me some paper and a pen and they’d post them for me. But the guards stopped sending them my way when they realized I wasn’t fucking them.”
He slowly let loose his towel and then pulled her toward him, his eyes holding hers as he sat her at the edge of the bed and drew her down to his lap. They stared at each other, and a tear streamed down her cheek.
“I understand if you did,” she said in a choked whisper.”If you had to…be with someone.”
“Baby, I didn’t. I kissed my wrist and took care of it, thinking of you.”
More tears streamed down her face, and somehow, they cleansed him. He felt free, now that she knew. Open to her. One with her again. He caught the moisture of her tears with his thumb, then he bent and lapped them with his tongue. Framing her face, he licked up all that salty wetness and then took her lips, kissing her mouth with a painstaking gentleness that stemmed from a need she’d never be able to imagine.