Fate Book by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
“If you’re ever…captured.” He spat out the last word like a curse. “I have family to protect, too.”
“Oh.” Captured. Because my father was some very powerful man who probably had tons of enemies just itching to find a crack in his armor.
Paolo must have noticed the horror on my face because he reached over and put his hand on my thigh. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
I expected him to remove his hand, but instead he left it there. Did he realize what he was doing to me? The gesture wasn’t nearly as intimate as what we’d done last night, but it somehow felt like it. I stared at his large, powerful hand for what seemed like an eternity, remembering how he’d touched my breasts and hips, remembering how he’d taken his hard, hot flesh and rubbed it against me through his jeans.
My stomach began to flutter wildly and my nipples tingled into sharp little points like giant lighthouses, signaling that I wanted him now just as much as I’d wanted him last night.
Shit. What am I thinking? I moved my leg away and turned my head toward the window, closing my eyes.
I didn’t know why he wanted to touch me, since he’d made it clear we could never cross that line he’d drawn. But then he promptly removed his hand.
Breathe, Dakota. Just breathe. I wanted him to put the hand back immediately. It felt comforting, and I was beginning to realize that my feelings were much more than simple lust. I was falling in love with my ghost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Just after sunset, Paolo pulled into a small motel away from the main highway on the east side of Las Cruces, New Mexico. We’d made a quick stop for supplies, picking up toiletries, sandwiches, clothes, and a backpack for me. It had been the fastest Target shopping trip of my life because I was simply too tired to care about what Paolo might think of me wearing sweats, which is what I bought. Three sets. Lord, how far I’d sunk in fashion. They weren’t even cool, vintage-looking sweats, like those fun 1970s-style Puma jogging suits. And given where things had ended up between Paolo and me—not the steamy, hot place I pined for—I’d grabbed a couple sports bras and those really super-comfy panties in the multipack. I’d be damned if I’d be on the run, picking a thong out of my ass—not even to appease my ego.
“You shower first,” he said, “while I set this stuff up.” He plunked a large duffel bag on the motel room table.
“Thanks.” I grabbed my shopping bag, relieved to have a few moments to myself and to get out of my grubby, dirty clothes. I turned on the hot shower and let it wash away the film of sweat and smoke stuck to my skin, trying not to think about what would happen to my life. I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin felt clean and new, but the worries only made me feel heavy, tired. Sadly, there was no one to really turn to. Paolo had made it clear that I was…his work. And if he truly had lost the woman he once loved because he’d gotten too close, well, what could I say? I’d keep a distance from me, too.
I dressed in the bathroom, blow-dried my hair, and brushed my teeth to a pristine shine. When I finally came out, Paolo was staring at me like he’d just seen an alien.
“What?” I asked.
“One hour. How is it humanly possible to shower for one entire hour?”
“I was dirty?”
He smiled. “Well, I’m pleased to see you have skin left.” He glanced at the table, which had a laptop connected to several cell phones and a small black box. “Don’t touch that, got it?”
“But what if ET comes by and wants to call his mother?” I asked.
“Tell him to fuck off.”
“Noted. But what is all that stuff?” I asked.
He scratched his whiskered chin. “Well, that,” he pointed to the black box, “is a kind of phone hacker device. If I have someone’s cell phone signature, I can program my phone to tell me what calls they make and receive, or even block them from calling certain numbers.”
Grrr…“Like the police, for example?” I remembered my call being blocked in San Diego after I’d booted Paolo from my car. Then there was the time back at my house when I couldn’t call anyone except my parents.
“Maaaybe.” He flashed a mischievous grin. “But right now I’m using it to scramble my signal. Only data can get through, so the cell tower thinks it’s a WiFi device like a portable GPS or an iPad, but not a phone. It makes it harder for anyone to trace—if they’re trying to find us via a cell signal.”
“Can I e-mail my mom?”
He shook his head. “I said ‘harder,’ not impossible. And we definitely don’t know who’s watching your mom’s e-mail.” He looked at his watch. “Just don’t touch. I’ll be right back.”
Paolo disappeared into the bath, and I plunked down on the bed, resting my back against the headboard. My notebook was on the nightstand next to the remote for the TV. How sweet. Santiago—ugh—Paolo must have put it there for me. I opened it up and found my favorite beautiful pen inside.
I skimmed the leather binding and admired the beautiful thick paper of the pages. It was almost a shame to write it in, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. Everything about the prior week came pouring out—my first days at school, thinking I’d lost my mind when I saw Paolo, realizing he was real, and knowing that there’d be no chance in hell of my forgetting him. I wrote about how looking at him made me feel, how his body felt next to mine, how he made me feel safe even though my world was falling apart. Before I knew it, tears streamed down my face. The stress and heavy emotions I’d been carrying around, including the anger I had for my father who’d hid so much of himself from me, exploded from the confines of that invisible space inside my head where all dark thoughts resided. I didn’t even know who my father really was. And my mother? How could she have hidden all this from me?
“Dakota?” Paolo stood there staring at me, wearing faded button flies, a white towel slung over one should, his shirtless chest expanding and contracting rapidly.
“What?” I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand.
“I heard you crying. I thought…” He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor for a moment before looking at me again with his hypnotic, deep brown eyes. I noticed then, as the light of the lamp on the nightstand illuminated his eyes, that they had flecks of bright gold around the irises. So beautiful. Just like the rest of him. His smooth olive skin, his thick arms and ripped stomach, everything about him was so addictive, so masculine.
He suddenly leaned over and kissed me. It was a soft kiss, at first. The kind a man might give a woman to comfort her when he’s unable to say how he feels. But what did I know? I’d never been with anyone. Nor did I truly ever want to be unless it was Paolo, which is why it was impossible for me not to react to his touch, to his hand moving to my cheek, to the smell of his clean skin flooding my nostrils.
The kiss suddenly became me trying to communicate the words I couldn’t say…I want you. I need you. But it would be silly to need someone so much when I didn’t really know him, wouldn’t it? So why did I feel that way?
His tongue slid into my mouth, and I savored the feeling of him inside me. No, it wasn’t sex, but it was the closest we’d ever get. His hand moved to the back of my hair and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. The way he tried to mold me to him, to make me fit against his male frame, overwhelmed my senses.
I moved my hand to his chest and let it glide over the rounded, firm contours of his muscles. As we sat there facing each other, letting our lips and tongues do the talking, my mind dipped a toe in the water. If I told him I really wanted him, really wanted to make him my first, what would he say? Another rejection? I didn’t have the strength to endure another one of those. Not now.
But when his hand moved from the back of my neck to my shoulder and gently pushed me into the bed, I felt the simultaneous explosion of relief and the flood of sensual heat throughout my body. I don’t know if he sensed the reaction, but the pace of his kiss turned frantic, and I followed along eagerly.
He stretched out against the length of my body and
His hand slid up my sweatshirt and cupped my breast. “God, I love your body, Dakota,” he panted in between frantic hard kisses.
I turned toward him and slid my hand into the waistband of his jean, wanting to explore the soft skin and hard muscle of his ass. It felt even better than it looked.
I pulled him into me, signaling with my body how much I desired him, but he held back.
He slowed the kiss and looked at me. “Do you really want to do this?” he asked.
“Yes.” I touched the side of his stubbled face, hoping he’d see the tension screaming inside my body. “But do you?”
He stared for a moment. “You know I can’t give you anything. No relationship. No phone number. Nothing.”
It sucked, but I knew. And maybe a small part of me believed if given the chance, he’d change his mind. Just like I’d changed mine about him. “I don’t care.”
He kissed me hard, and that’s when I felt him let go. He wasn’t trying to be careful and kind or protect me; he was simply a guy giving into his needs, his desire. For me.
He lifted up my sweatshirt and his lips worked their way down until they found my nipple. He licked it slowly and then kissed every inch of my breast. “You have the most beautiful tits I’ve ever seen.”
That was really nice, but…“Paolo, please. You don’t need to warm me up.”
He lifted a brow and smiled. He went to his knees and began removing my sweatpants. “Wow. I did not see those coming.”
I looked down at my neon orange Fruit of the Loom bikini briefs. “What? I needed comfort. It’s been a hard day.”
“No, I think they are very…hot.” He grinned.
I laughed as he began kissing me at the waist and sliding down my “man killers,” leaving me exposed. He stared at my most intimate domain for a moment. “Damn it, Dakota. Is there any part of you that’s not perfect?”
He dipped his head and kissed me just over my throbbing, tingling bud, then slid his tongue inside, finding the tender, hot flesh. I grabbed fistfuls of sheets, having never felt anything so erotic, so sinful.
“You taste even better,” he whispered.
Oh my God, if he doesn’t get on with this, I’m going to cross the finish line without him. “Paolo, please. Please don’t do any more. I am ready. Really, really ready.”
“Patience, Dakota. It’s your first time. It should be memorable.”
Yeah. Little did he know that memorable was in the eye of the beholder. That scratchy tree trunk from last night would have been hunky-dory with me. Just as long as I was with him.
“I could never, ever forget you,” I panted.
He looked up at me and tilted his head in a strange way, and I wondered why. He crawled up my body and hovered over my face. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you won’t even remember your name.”
I swallowed. “Ummm…Okay.” The words came out scratchy and dry.
He kneeled between my legs and began sliding down his pants. His thick erection sprang from his pants, savage and hungry. I was just about to ask about protection, praying he had something in his wallet, when the phone on the desk vibrated loudly on top of the laminated surface.
We both jumped. “Hell. That’s your father,” he grumbled.
What? “My father?” I scrambled away from Paolo, horrified by some irrational fear that he knew what Paolo and I were doing at that very moment.
How idiotic! I was a grown woman with nothing to be ashamed of.
I shook my head while Paolo arranged himself, took a breath, and then sat down at his laptop. He logged in and read.
His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but his sagging posture radiated defeat, disappointment, and possibly something much, much worse.
“What? What is it?” I asked.
He didn’t reply. I got up from the bed and slid on my panties. “What? What did he write?” I demanded.
His head drooped. “I am to hand you over to someone else tomorrow morning.”
“But why?” I asked.
He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know.”
“Well, answer him back. Tell him no.”
Paolo didn’t turn around or look at me. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I asked.
“Both, and you know why,” he said quietly.
Yeah. I knew…he didn’t want to fight for me. Whatever hold the past had over him was stronger than anything he felt for me. I guess he had his own ghost to deal with. “Sure.”
I flipped off the lamp and got under the covers, turning my back to him.
“Dakota, this is my job. If your father is asking me to hand you off, it’s for a damned good reason. He depends on me to follow orders. That’s the deal.”
I closed my eyes and silently berated myself. I’d known this was “the deal,” but that didn’t make it any easier watching him choose his job and his ghost over me.
Paolo lay down behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling his rough cheek into the back of my neck. “I wish things were different.”
Me, too…
~ ~ ~
The next morning, Paolo packed up his equipment while I showered yet again. I wanted to see him as little as possible before being delivered like a prisoner to a new penitentiary. I pulled my hair back into a neat bun and stared myself down in the mirror. You will not cry, you will not cry. Do you hear me, Dakota Dane? You will not…
Oh shit. I’m so going to cry.
Well, to hell with it.
I emerged from the bathroom avoiding eye contact with Paolo.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Sure.” I threw my stuff in my backpack and marched to the truck, holding my chin up high.
The moment he got behind the wheel, he took a deep breath, looked at me with his mouth halfway open, and then pressed his lips together. Whatever he wanted to say, he’d changed his mind. Good. Because no words could make me feel better. I simply couldn’t understand how he could do this.
We drove through town in silence, and when we pulled into the police station my nerves took over.
“Why here?” I asked, thinking we’d do the exchange in the back of some seedy bar.
“It’s safer. Lots of witnesses. Not to mention, I have friends here.”
I remembered Paolo’s “friend” at the San Diego PD. “And just why is that? Aren’t you people supposed to be ghosts who don’t exist?”
He thought about his answer. “Even ghosts need friends, but they don’t know what I do or who I am. They only know they get paid well for keeping an eye on things for me from time to time, and I pass them helpful information when it comes my way.”
“So what did your ‘friend’ give you the night I saw you outside the police station in San Diego?” I asked.
“I had your new identity package sent there for safekeeping. But in addition to that? He gave me information about your roommate and everyone in your classes.”
“So you check out every single person who comes into contact with me?” I asked.
“Pretty much. Thank God you’re antisocial. It’s a lot of fucking work.”
Ass.
A white SUV pulled into an empty spot a few cars down. “Wait here,” he ordered.
I watched the other driver, a bald man with a cold stare, exit his vehicle and greet Paolo with a handshake. I sincerely hoped Paolo had done his homework on this guy; he looked scarier than shit.
They started talking and Paolo waved me over.
My entire body surged with adrenaline and pulsed with anger as I approached the man. How could Paolo leave me with some creepy stranger when my life was a horrible nightmare? This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. But the man’s icy, blue eyes instantly zeroed in on me, extinguishing my rage with a cold chill.
“Dakota,??
“Dakota,” Paolo said, “this is Derek. He’ll be watching over you.”
I looked at Paolo. “For how long?” My insides were trembling. Something didn’t feel right.
“As long as it takes,” Derek replied.
I whispered to Paolo, “Please, I’m begging you. Don’t do this. I don’t know him.”
Paolo gripped my shoulders. “You’ll be fine,” he said, without a flicker of emotion in his tone.
“I don’t want to go with him. I don’t care what my father told you. Please, Paolo! Please!”
His eyes dropped for a moment and then hardened. “You can’t stay with me. So you’ll go with him, or you’ll be alone. Those are your choices.”
So that was it. Everything we’d been through. Everything we felt—well, perhaps that was my fatal flaw. He felt lust; I felt more. He warned me not to. I didn’t listen. The sucker gets what the sucker deserves.
I lifted my chin. “Thank you, Derek. I’ll try to make your job as easy as possible.” I looked at Paolo. “I’m a piece of cake; easiest job you’ve ever had. Right?”
After all, I was just some sex kitten ready to pounce on his yarn any chance I got. Can’t get any easier.
Irritation flickered in his eyes. “You were great.”
“See. Nothing to worry about, Derek,” I said. “Good-bye, Paolo.”
I loaded myself into the white SUV.
Don’t look back, don’t look back, I commanded myself as we pulled out of the lot. I felt Paolo’s eyes following our truck from across the lot. Unable to resist, I looked back and saw the expression of a man who didn’t care.
Why did I look back?
So you remember not to cry over him. He doesn’t care about you.
Easier said than done, but I was determined not to. I would bury any feelings I had for the man and shove them down a deep, dark hole. I would not crumble. I would not shed one tear for a guy who didn’t care about me.
~ ~ ~
For the first thirty miles or so, Derek didn’t say much other than a few yeses and nos. He was more robotic than Paolo had ever been, which made me extremely uncomfortable. But then again, the entire situation felt uncomfortable.