I made certain the shower was nice and hot, as close to scalding as I could stand. When I moved inside, the heat and steam were immediately comforting. I doused my head under the water then almost crumbled against the cool tile. For the first time I realized just how precarious my life truly was.
My father had warned me more than once that danger would always surround me and still, I'd been reckless on many occasions. Yes, he'd encouraged me to come to the States and find myself after the tragedy, but I'd known he had certain soldiers checking on me. My honest guess was that several had immigrated along with me, never far from the little world I'd created. I'd ignored.
Pretended.
He'd been terrified all along of losing another daughter.
I couldn't blame him, but he should feel anger or resentment. After all, I was the reason for Sasha's death.
I shuddered and closed my eyes, reliving the last days, the terrible moments before she'd been lost. Nothing would ever take away the pain. I allowed the tears to fall, sliding down my face. Maybe this was the punishment I truly deserved.
The slight rush of cooler air was the only indication my solace had been interrupted. Before I could even cry out, hands wrapped around me, yanking me backward and against one rock-solid chest.
"You were right," Michael whispered.
I struggled in his arms, not out of fear or anger, simply wanting my own space. I didn't want him to see that I'd broken down. "About what?" The nastiness in my tone was exaggerated.
"Maybe everything. I have been hiding from my world for years, pretending not to care about anything or anyone. A defense mechanism."
"I know, the death of your mother."
"That's just one aspect. There was someone else in my life, someone I cared about. She was sweet and honest, giving to a fault. She was everything that didn't belong in my life."
The haunting quality of his voice was jarring, more so than ever. "A girlfriend?" I stopped trying to break free, relishing in the feel of his naked body against mine, the honesty of his words.
"Just a friend at the time, but I wanted more. I was so alive around her, excited. She made me see life so differently, as if I could do anything. She was a bright star. In so many ways you remind me of her. Opinionated. Brave. Giving. I was the big bad mafia boy, but she never knew."
This time, I remained quiet.
He squeezed me, as if he was terrified to let me go. "I know I shouldn't compare you to anyone."
"That was lovely actually. Who was she?"
Michael rubbed my arms, allowing his fingers to dance a trail down to my fingers. I was tingling all over, unable to shut down the glorious sensations. "Molly was an actress. I'd tried out for a small part in a play, just to see if I was any good at it. Just a hobby really. You see, my mother gave me the acting bug, something my father loathed. I could be someone else when I acted, a real hero instead of a monster. Molly was encouraging, and I got to be that someone else around her. She and I used to talk for hours. We drank wine, laughed, went to movies, and dreamed about winning an Academy Award. I could leave the world of damnation behind me." He inhaled before continuing. "She also had no idea who I was or the danger I was putting her in. In other words, she trusted me."
"What happened?"
I refused to allow another round of silence. I turned, sliding my hands against his chest. His eyes were so imploring, unmasking the significant pain he'd been in.
"She was killed in a drive-by shooting as we were walking from a coffee shop. While the police seemed to think it was a random event, wrong person and the wrong place, I knew better. The shooting was an attempted assassination and she took the bullet meant for me. Only two days later, my mother was killed, a bullet meant for my father."
Oh. My. God.
The irony was far too tragic. Tears slipped from my eyes once again, anguish for the pain we'd both felt over the years.
Tilting his head, he used his knuckle to wipe away the salty beads, sliding his finger into his mouth. Very slowly a single tear slipped past his long, beautiful eyelashes, trickling down his face.
My reaction was immediate, my heart aching for him. Rising onto my tiptoes, I dragged my tongue across his cheek, gathering the tear before whispering, "I'm so sorry. Oh, Michael."
Pulling me close, he cradled me against him. "I won't allow anything to happen to you. Whoever has this contract will pay. They are dangerous, Francesca, and this is no game. I know you shouldn't trust me in any manner, but you're going to have to in order for both of us to get out of this alive. Had I known a contract would be placed on your life, I never would have taken you."
"In truth, I'm glad you did." The words seemed easy to say. Maybe he would turn out to be a hero after all.
The embrace wasn't about passion or even domination. His hold was about connection and comfort. He needed me just as much as I obviously needed him.
As the water cascaded down both of us, it was as if our sins were being absolved, washed away. Maybe we were being given a second chance. At life.
At love.
At trust.
As long as we solved the mystery.
He eased back, brushing the strands of hair from my face, his glistening from strings of water. "I meant the words I said to you. I care about you more than I should or wanted to. You are everything. Do you think you can trust me? No more secrets and no lies." He lowered his head, lightly brushing his lips across mine. "Our deal from before."
I leaned into him, rising onto my tiptoes, wanting desperately for this moment to continue. "I do trust you. With my life." No more secrets. What would he do when he found out about mine? I couldn't bring myself to tell him. Not right now.
He seemed relieved. The kiss on my forehead was unexpected, as if he was indeed giving me a choice. He could never understand how much the simple gesture meant to me.
"I'll be downstairs. I have a few phone calls to make, some information about the assassin to check. I left some things for you in the room. We will have dinner together and I promise you, no violence." A wry smile crossed his face, his hunger returning as he allowed his gaze to fall to my toes and back up. "We will be safe here at least for tonight."
Safe. Was there any place where we'd truly be safe?
"Who owns this house?"
He lifted an eyebrow. "A friend of mine. Don't worry. He checks out."