Raw Redemption Page 13

  “Yes.” She smoothed fingers down her seat belt. “Gordy and Vick. I don’t know their last names. Or anything about them, really, except they’ve worked for my father for a long time.” Her voice took on a reminiscent quality. “They weren’t allowed to speak to me. No one was. I think today might have been the first time we exchanged actual words.”

  In Henrik’s current edgy state, he knew asking was a bad idea, but nothing would stop him from finding out everything to know about Ailish. It was like an addiction that required feeding. “Why weren’t they allowed to speak to you?”

  “I inherited my mother’s gift of persuasion. That’s what I overheard my father tell them. That lies come easy to me.” She looked down at her lap. “They wanted to keep their jobs, and that meant they couldn’t show me any sympathy. Not that they had it in them, but I guess…I guess that’s why they chose to ignore me. They didn’t want to think of me as a person.”

  Henrik realized he’d let the vehicle climb to a dangerous speed during Ailish’s explanation and slowed by ten miles per hour. “I won’t lose any sleep over putting one of them down, Ailish. Know that. You shouldn’t, either.”

  He could feel her stare. “What was your father like?”

  It was the way she posed the question. As if she had no idea how an actual father was supposed to behave. God, he was back to wanting to shake her. Hold her. Kiss her. “He was a cop. Retired now.” Henrik cleared away the dust in his throat. “He believed in the system, doing everything by the book. One of the good ones.”

  Had Ailish moved closer? The now-familiar tightening in his stomach that occurred whenever she drew near told him she had. “Did he take you camping?”

  “You’re killing me over here, Lish,” he grated, her wistfulness wrapping around his neck like a boa constrictor. “Can we have this talk later?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Henrik flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, then gripped the leather tighter. “Your father knew what he was doing, telling those assholes not to speak with you. Anyone with an ounce of decency would hear a few words from your mouth and—”

  Her perplexity reached him across the seat. “And what?”

  He shook his head. “Forget I said that. There was nothing right about what your father did. Not a goddamn thing.” Calm down, man. Reel it in. “Yeah, we went camping once. It wasn’t really our thing, though. He liked to drive me to spots around Chicago where he’d made arrests and walk me through them. Step by step. The decisions he made and why.”

  Damn if she hadn’t moved closer again. Close enough for him to cover her hand with his own? “He must have been proud when you followed in his footsteps.”

  “At the time, yes. Now?” Henrik tried to focus on the road, the distance they needed to travel before stopping. Anything but the shame in his father’s eyes the last time Henrik had gone to visit. “Let’s just say I’ll be lucky to get a Christmas card this year.”

  “Because you’re…not a cop anymore?” She sighed when Henrik didn’t answer. “My father had no use for me until my standardized math test results came back. We had dinner together that night in the backyard. I thought it was so crazy. We were eating outside.” Her tone grew so light he had to strain to make out her words over the truck engine. “He gave me two sets of statistics. Two baseball teams and their numbers for the season so far. And then he asked for a probable outcome. I didn’t realize until I saw the teams playing on television what his reasoning had been. But I…that was when he stopped sending me to school. I just worked after that.”

  Henrik wished the man were standing in the truck’s path. To use Ailish such a way…he could never let it happen again. Never. And if he didn’t focus on something besides the broken way she relayed her memory, he’d rip the steering wheel off and wreck the vehicle. Calm. Down. The wooded landscape on either side of the truck was unfamiliar, making him long for the smog and concrete of Chicago. At least he knew how to hide someone there. Knew how to navigate every inch of those streets.

  When Ailish’s fingers drifted over his knuckles, Henrik’s abdomen shuddered, need sinking low and filling the flesh between his legs. “It’s only a matter of time before they start to miss you,” Ailish said, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder. “You were only gone one night when I started missing you.”

  His eyelids drooped, the organ in his chest going insane. Poundpoundpound. “What are you trying to do here, Ailish?”

  “Don’t take me back to Chicago,” she whispered against his ear, one hand settling on his thigh, drifting higher…higher. “Please. I know that’s where we’re driving and—”

  “Enough,” Henrik snapped out. “You think you can seduce me into turning this truck around? Is that really your plan?”

  “Yes.”

  He waited. “Yes? That’s it?”

  Ailish nodded, the top of her head bumping his jaw. “Whenever we touch each other…we start over. Everything that we said or did before stops mattering. There’s just us and what’s next.” Her head lifted and she scrutinized him. “Right?”

  The truth behind her words weighed heavily on his shoulders. They’d been in a state of feeling each other out for days, him doling out snippets of information when it was convenient. She’d had reason to run—doubt. Doubt in him that disappeared when they touched, if he understood her correctly. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it? She trusted him when their bodies were working toward pleasure. Now he needed to work on the rest.

  “Ailish, Chicago is where you’ll be safest. You left before I had a chance to explain—”

  Sirens.

  His pulse dropping to an adrenaline-laced beat, Henrik transferred his attention to the rearview mirror. Perhaps he should have been nervous, being chased instead of chasing. But there was nothing but calm focus, sending a flicker of wonder winding through his mind. Maybe he’d never been meant for the inside of a police car. Had his path always ended at the undercover squad he so resented? “Hold on, Ailish.”

  There were no visible flashing lights yet, only sound. At the next narrow break in the tree line, Henrik veered off the road and onto bumpy earth. He wound around thick trees, not giving a damn about his suspension, as they would be ditching the truck at first opportunity. After they’d gotten about four hundred yards into the forest, Henrik slowed in degrees, winding his way into a thick fall of branches before hitting the brakes and cutting the truck’s engine.

  Henrik unfastened his seat belt and removed his gun from the waistband of his jeans, ejecting the spent clip onto the seat. He reached across Ailish and removed a fresh clip from the glove compartment and clicked it into his weapon. “Be ready to move.”

  Not bothering to unlock her own seat belt, Ailish sucked in a deep, audible breath and held it, her eyes wide, like two hazel moons.

  “They won’t hear you breathing from the road, baby.”

  Ailish laughed, releasing a rush of oxygen at the same time. And goddammit if he didn’t almost reach for her, fully prepared to lay her out on the front seat, to position her for the fucking of a lifetime. His cock was granite inside the leg of his pants, a product of adrenaline and Ailish being in the same place. There was alarm mixed in, too. Alarm that he could load a gun in preparation for protecting his girl, by fair means or foul, without a single hesitation. Not a single one. This went beyond destroying evidence. These were men’s lives he was willing to sacrifice.

  He watched Ailish as she scanned the woods. “I bet you wish camping was your thing about now.”

  Suspicion trickled in at her thoughtful tone, lifting Henrik’s antenna. “If you’re thinking about running again, Ailish, I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  She actually had the nerve to look hurt. “I’m not.”

  Tension reigned inside the car, their gazes clashing as the sirens drew closer. At least four police vehicles, if the overlapping wails were any indication. Henrik placed his fingertips on the door handle, and Ailish did the same. To run from the cops? Or him? Fuck, he couldn�
��t read her. And there was no time to talk, because the peals of sound were even with them, roaring past the forest as they stayed perfectly still and waited. Waited.

  It seemed as if an hour had passed when silence finally greeted their ears. No crunching of forest ground, so Henrik knew the local law enforcement weren’t creeping up behind them, either, hoping to employ the element of surprise. Very slowly, so Ailish could see his actions, Henrik applied the safety feature on his gun and slid it back into his jeans’ waistband. “Stay right there. I’ll come around to get you. Understand?”

  “Then what?” Ailish blurted.

  “We’re leaving the truck and walking. I’ll find us another ride.”

  “And then we’re headed to Chicago, right?” Her gaze cut to the forest, then back. “Tell me why I shouldn’t try to run again.”

  “Besides the fact that I’ll catch you?” He shoved the door open, but made no move to climb out of the truck. “I’ve secured you a deal with Chicago PD. If you cooperate in the case against your father—from a distance—there will be no charges brought against you, including your work under the Bookie Cookie pseudonym.”

  The strain around her eyes eased a bit. “You told the police?”

  “I told the captain as much as I had to, Ailish.” He punctuated the air with a finger. “I put as many necessary cards on the table to get you clear, in spite of everything. But he’s a smart man. He made the deal knowing damn well there’s more to come.” His breath was uneven. “When we give the captain your alternate identity, I needed to make sure he couldn’t find a way to use it.”

  Her hand fell from the door handle into her lap. “What about you? Are you just going to turn me over to your captain and leave?”

  “Not for good.” He swallowed the golf ball–sized lump in his throat, brought on by the idea of leaving her behind, even for a small space of time. “Long enough to get what we need on Caine from the inside.”

  “He’ll know,” she whispered. “He won’t be fooled.”

  Henrik alighted from the truck and paused, looking back at Ailish where she sat frozen in the passenger seat. “Your word won’t be enough on its own, especially in light of your arrest. We need something solid.”

  “And I’m going to help you figure out what that thing is? Is that right?”

  The apprehension she was trying to lock behind her bravado made him want to climb back into the truck, pick a spot on the map, and just drive. As far away from Chicago as they could get. But they would always be running, looking over their shoulder. And who was to say she even wanted to run with him? Even now, she wanted to sprint through the forest, leaving him in the dust. This course of action was in her best interest, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

  “If you want your deal,” he said, “Chicago is the answer.”

  Henrik slammed the door on her response.

  They had a vehicle to steal.

  Chapter Twelve

  Awareness prickled along Ailish’s skin when Henrik opened the passenger-side door. His gaze fell to her bare legs, that throat of his working in a way that was now comforting. Familiar. But when she thought he might reach out and caress her skin, he popped the glove box instead and removed a set of handcuffs.

  “What are you doing?”

  His stoic expression was carved in stone. “I can’t risk you running again. We only have another day to get back to Chicago, and there’s no room for setbacks at this point.” He dipped his chin once. “Get out of the truck and turn around.”

  It was on the tip of Ailish’s tongue to claim she wouldn’t run, but it was obvious Henrik wouldn’t believe her. Rightly so. But her running now would have had less to do with not trusting Henrik—especially now that he’d relayed his plan—and more to do with keeping them both alive. Caine wouldn’t let either of them live once he realized he’d been crossed. No one understood but her, and Henrik was beyond listening.

  Seeing no choice but to obey him for now, Ailish turned and very slowly slipped off the passenger seat, noting the way his nostrils flared when her shirt rode up and exposed her stomach, the underside of her breasts. Lord, she was far from unaffected, too, a fact that obviously didn’t go unnoticed as their breath mingled between them. The cuffs dangled at Henrik’s side, his head tipped forward so their foreheads were in danger of touching. “Turn around,” Henrik ordered, his voice rasping like two pieces of brittle sandpaper.

  Something in Ailish’s chest kicked up a brutal rebellion at the suffering in Henrik’s voice, surprising her in its intensity. For just a second, she shut down the dread threatening to run amok in her gut and looked at Henrik. Really looked. And listened to the heart knocking against her ribs. This beautiful, protective man had shown up on her doorstep, and while he’d been secretive, he’d put himself at risk to keep her safe. Kissed her, touched her, with such passion, her legs trembled at the sweltering memories of those stolen moments. “Who are you, Henrik?”

  If possible, his big body went even more still. “Excuse me?”

  “How did you get here? With me?” Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. “Why were we in this together from the moment you showed up? I don’t understand it even though—”

  He snagged her around the waist with a powerful forearm, jerking her into the warmth of his body. But instead of kissing her as she’d anticipated—and yeah, kind of needed to go on living—he simply closed the car door and spun her around to face the vehicle. “Even though what, Ailish?”

  “I don’t understand why we’re a team…even though it feels like that’s how it’s supposed to be.” She stared up at Henrik’s reflection in the passenger-side window, saw his eyes close and wondered at that response. “Why did we feel like a foregone conclusion when you walked into my cabin?”

  “What is this?” Henrik breathed into her ear. “Another attempt to seduce me so you can get away? I won’t let it work. I can’t.”

  Ailish’s hands were drawn to the small of her back. When she felt the metal closing around her wrists, heard the metallic clink, her fate was sealed. So why was she more focused on the man standing so close, breathing into her hair like he’d just run a marathon? Her loins pulsated, body crying out for more contact. Craving it. As if she’d made the plea out loud, Henrik’s lap fit against her bottom and they both released pent-up exhales of air. God, she could actually feel their connection, like a spinning, golden flame in her belly that only he knew how to extinguish. She had no idea where the words she said next came from, only knew they’d been unveiled from their hiding place in the back of her mind. “Did you want me that day in the park, Henrik?”

  “Yes.” He stumbled forward, forcing Ailish up against the side of the truck. “I wanted to undress you, right fucking there. Rip the dress off your tight body. You don’t know, baby. You don’t know.”

  A moan ripped through her vocal cords, fogging up the car window. She made no secret of being turned on when a man desired her to the point of pain—but the confession from Henrik was utopia. This sexual giant of a man could barely stand under the weight of his need, and it hypnotized Ailish, flushed her head to toe. She reached back into her memory bank and remembered that day…how exhausted and downtrodden she’d been, unable to attempt garnering notice in her usual manner. And he’d wanted her anyway. He wanted her now, a fact made unshakable by him pushing his erection into her restrained hands.

  “I’m so hot,” she whimpered. “I need to have you.”

  His groan was agonized, but the sound was followed by his tongue licking up the side of her neck. A bite of her earlobe. “We can’t. We—you’re handcuffed.” His palms slapped down on the passenger-side door, caging in her body. “Fuck, you’re my prisoner, Ailish. Everything is different now.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said huskily, massaging the bulge of his manhood with what little mobility she could muster. God, she wanted all of him. Needed to touch everywhere. Right now. “We both know the handcuffs don’t mean anything.”

  Where was this c
onviction coming from? Ailish couldn’t pinpoint the location, only knew it was deep down, where nothing could shake it. She could feel Henrik teetering on an imaginary fence behind her, so close to being pushed to one side, but she couldn’t tell which. “We need to walk,” Henrik growled, negating that desire a split second later by wedging her more firmly against the truck.

  “You really think—” Ailish broke off when his right hand cupped her breast and squeezed. God yes. Touch me. I forgot how to live without your hands on me. “You really think we can turn this off?”

  “Not in this lifetime.” Henrik’s other hand found her left breast, his thumb strumming over her nipple like she was an instrument to be played. “But you were wrong. The cuffs do mean something. They mean we don’t trust each other. They mean you want to get away from me. I can’t fuck you when you’d rather be running away.” His hands released her breasts, sliding down her belly to cup the juncture of her thighs in a double grip—roughly—ripping a ragged moan from Ailish. “That would be wrong, baby. So goddamn wrong.”

  Her legs wobbled, threatening to give out. “I don’t want to run. I don’t want to run. Please, Henrik. I’m hurting.”

  Was that her voice? Her face? The reflection staring back at Ailish was more sexed-up porn star than almost-virgin. Warmth pooled beneath Henrik’s possessive touch, her skin so sensitized that a passing breeze whispering across her cleavage aroused her even more. Oh God, this is torture. How to convince Henrik her need was real and urgent? Not a ploy or a bad thing, like he thought.

  It took every iota of Ailish’s willpower to struggle away from Henrik and shuffle past the front bumper. She immediately mourned the loss of his touch to the point that walking was painful. The tops of her thighs were slick with moisture, her bound position forcing her to walk with breasts thrust forward. Everything about the situation provoked her live-wire senses, but she managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other. “If you want to walk, we’ll walk.” When her voice wavered, she lifted her chin to compensate. “I’m not going to beg you.”