BETRAYALS AND TEMPTATION
Back to the Past
Kayla arrived at the bar a few minutes before the designated time she was supposed to meet Frank. She thought it would give her time to get herself together before she saw him, but she soon realized it was a fruitless way of thinking. Frank was already there. She wasn't quite ready to see him yet, and she was grateful that he hadn't noticed her…or at least she thought he hadn't noticed her. She took a brief detour toward the bathroom. Once inside, she stood before the sink, ran the cold water, and splashed her face several times. Her stomach was unsettled and tied in knots. She wondered why he wanted to meet her here instead of at his place. She could have begged off, but she didn't want to dodge him. Not really. She grabbed a paper towel and blotted her face dry. It was time to face Frank, no matter how unready she was. She emerged from the bathroom and had to admit that she felt like crap. She probably looked like it, too. She still couldn't quite discern why she felt so shaky, but that thought was a little crazy. She had tons of reasons to feel shaky and the grandest one of all sat only a few feet away. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, she slowly approached him. When he noticed her, he nodded toward the hostess. He took her hand and the two of them followed the hostess to a booth tucked in the far corner of the room. Once they were seated and drink orders taken, they were left alone. Kayla hadn't really wanted anything, but she needed something to do with her hands.
"Why did you want to meet here," she asked, focusing her eyes on his face.
"Neutral territory," he answered simply.
Neutral territory. The words sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't like the sound of it. Why would he feel the need to choose a place like this if he didn't have something major he wanted to discuss? She assumed he had dug into her background and found out all her secrets. But that didn't sound right, either. Carson had assured her that all their information was bland. As far as the world knew, neither Carson nor Kayla Falcon existed in this world. He had made certain of it two years ago when they decided to form their gang.
She had opened her mouth to say something else, but the hostess appeared out of nowhere with their drinks. When they were alone again, Kayla sipped at her mixed drink and watched Frank as he downed his neat whiskey in one gulp. He's garnering his strength reserves, here. That's exactly what he's doing. "Frank, what's going on," she finally asked.
"I want to talk to you about your ex-boyfriend," he began.
She sighed and took hold of her drink. She was half tempted to gulp hers like he had done. Instead, she sipped at it tentatively. Her stomach did a flip-flop roll as it accepted the mixture. Nausea gripped her fiercely. "Frank, please. What happened is over, and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't care about him or what happens to him. I just want to forget."
"I can't let it go," he stated firmly. "He attacked you and had you nearly stripped down. God only knows what he would have done if he had caught you out somewhere else. Not only that, but I think he is linked to the trouble you hinted at. All I want is his last name."
Tom's last name. It wasn't much of a request. It would be relatively easy to fulfill, but she wasn't an idiot. She knew he wanted to run some type of background check on him. Carson had cleared his and her records; he hadn't done so with the rest of the gang. However, Tom swore he had no serious arrests on his rap sheet. Why did she suddenly not trust that? If he had lied about one thing, he would probably lie about several others. It was Tom's way. "Frank," she began.
He interrupted her by suddenly taking her hands in his. Her drink had nearly gone south. "Kayla, why are you protecting him?"
His eyes were blazing and set determinedly on her face. This was something he was not going to let go. "I'm…I'm not."
"I don't believe that," he told her. He still had her hands clasped tightly in his. "I hate saying this, Kayla, because I know it's going to hurt you, but you're lying to me. I want to know your connection to this man. I want to know why you're protecting him, especially after what he has done to you."
I'm not protecting him. I'm protecting Brett. The words threatened to spill out of her mouth, but she held them back and fought the urge almost violently. He was hot on her trail, and she knew she should have spilled everything. Struggling mightily, she freed her hands from his. "Drop it, Frank. I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"But we must," he insisted. "I know you want to tell me. I can see it all over you, Kayla. Drop your front. Talk to me."
Abruptly, she stood. "No. I have to go."
She didn't give him time to react. She turned away and walked out. Donovan sat back in the booth in defeat. What the hell was that? He was almost certain he had gotten through to her, but she turned her back on him again. He didn't understand and it was killing him inside. He wanted to go after her, but he hesitated. As angry and as hurt as she was, she probably wouldn't listen to him. Her unwillingness to tell him about Tom had him worried. Again, he was positive Tom was the man behind so many of Kayla's issues, and he wondered if he wasn't the one behind the Sideshow. If she knew something about the bank robberies, why wouldn't she tell him? She knew he worked for the FBI, but she had no clue his team was assisting with the Sideshow heists. Maybe she's a party to it. The thought was disturbing, but it refused to leave him. He hated having these doubts about her. It killed him worse than her denial to tell him what was truly going on. He stared down into his empty glass and found himself wishing it were filled again. As if someone had read his mind, a server came up to the booth and asked if he wanted a refill. Yes, he did. He certainly did. Perhaps he would get a bottle. Perhaps if he were to get a little shit-faced, it would help the situation. It surely wouldn't hurt it.
Donovan was working on his third drink, trying his best to dull the pain, when a woman approached his booth. He thought it might be another server, but when he looked up, he realized it was a patron. She was pretty in a vacant sort of way and well put together in tight black denim jeans with a dark blue top. Her hair was dark brown and long. He was a little irritated to say the least. "Is there something I can do for you," he asked blandly.
"A loaded question," she answered with a smile. "I'm T.C." Without his asking, she slid into the booth across from him. "I've been watching you for a while."
He stared down into his empty glass. It was about time to refill it. Dear God, don't tell me she's hitting on me. I don't think I can handle that tonight. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer to be alone," he said evenly, making eye contact with her. Oddly enough, her eye color was damn close to Kayla's. Kayla. "I'm flattered, but I'm also involved with someone else."
She didn't miss a beat. "You look like a man who doesn't need to be alone. Where's your 'someone else?' Not here, I don't think."
Donovan was about to rip into this 'T.C.' person. Rip into her good. It was clear that she wanted a one night stand, and those had never been his style. It would have been so easy, though. All he would have had to do was agree with her, leave with her, and proceed to the nearest sleazy ass motel. It was much simpler than what he was going through with Kayla, but it was also crazy as hell. Having empty sex with someone he didn't know or love was a huge no no. Despite what anyone thought of him, he would never screw around with someone just because he could. He wouldn't trade that principle for all the 'T.C.'s' in the universe. She disgusted him. Thoroughly. "Thanks, but no thanks," he told her, the blandness coming back into his voice. "I'm not the least bit intrigued or interested. Perhaps you should continue your search for your bed partner tonight. Would you mind?"
101010
It was a quarter to eleven when Kayla heard the doorbell ringing. She had fallen into bed hours ago, depressed and crying. The nausea that had gripped her stomach earlier still held on, but not as tightly as before. When the doorbell began to ring, she had just closed her eyes. Carson was out, likely having his discussion with Tom, and she knew he had a key. Of course, he could have always left it behind. Groaning incoherently, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reluctantly left her sanctuary. She stood on tiptoe to peer into the peephole. She was shocked to see who her visitor was. Shocked, but also relieved. She unlocked the door and swung it open. Frank stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame. She thought he might have had a little bit too much to drink, because his normally clear eyes were cloudy and glazed over.
"Frank, what are you doing here?"
"I'm sorry to show up at your door like this, Kayla, but I had to see you," he said slowly, carefully.
Slight fumes of the whiskey he had consumed tainted his normally sweet breath. It was obvious that he couldn't drive all the way home like this. He wasn't exactly falling over drunk, but he had had enough to somewhat impair him. He was leaning on the doorframe for support. She didn't want to see him and had almost told him so, but she couldn't turn him away. If anything happened to him, she would never forgive herself. "Come on, Frank," she said, taking his arm.
She led him into the apartment and he was tempted to push her hand aside. He wasn't that drunk. However, he couldn't. She was touching him and he reveled in any touch she bestowed upon him. He again had a fleeting thought of the horrid 'T.C.' What he had with Kayla was love, what he had with her overshadowed everything. Up against Kayla, the woman at the bar was hammered dog shit. There was so much he wanted to say to her, including telling her about the woman, but he couldn't vocalize just yet. He kept silent and allowed her to lead him into her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door behind them. He went to her bed, sitting down heavily. What he wouldn't give to pour out everything about it all. It was the main reason he didn't drink a lot when he went out. He always wanted to talk. Before the night was through, he was afraid he'd tell her all about the Sideshow, what the case was doing to him, and his mind. But he held his tongue. He couldn't do that. She wasn't part of the fold. But I love her. He buried his face into his hands. When he looked up at her, she was standing close to the door with her arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing her flannel pajamas again, and he longed to see her skimpily clad in one of his shirts.
"Are you okay," she asked, feeling stupid. It was all over him that he wasn't okay. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
He shook his head. "No, I'm not okay, and the only thing I want is you." He sighed heavily and ran his hands over his face. The whiskey was loosening its hold little by little. "I hurt you tonight, Kayla, and I'm sorry. I know I'm pushing you hard on this, but I'm doing everything in my power to keep from losing you. I've been under a tremendous amount of stress at work. I shouldn't take it out on you." She was gazing at him earnestly, her beautiful eyes showing every ounce of love she felt for him. "After you left, a woman at the bar approached me. It was clear that she wanted to take me home. The whole thing sickened me. I thought of you, what we have together, how much I love you, and I knew I had to come." He watched as Kayla approached and sat beside him. He looked at her. "I'll leave if you want me to."
She reached out and took his hand. "I don't think you should drive. Besides, I don't want you to go." She raised his hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. "I'm sorry, too." She lowered his hand but held onto it. "You always want me to talk to you, but I want you to know that you can talk to me, too. I know the nature of your work is such that you can't tell me everything, but I'm here for you." God. What was saying? Where was this leading? She felt lower and lower. "I love you." She kissed his lips very gently, but she pulled away after a brief moment. "Kick off your shoes and lie down."
"Only if you join me."
After he removed enough clothing to be comfortable, he slid under the covers and waited patiently for her to join him. She hesitated for a few minutes before climbing in beside him. She cajoled him to turn to his stomach so she could give him an amateur massage. She straddled his waist and her hands began working on his shoulders. He didn't argue. What she lacked in experience, she made up for with her touch tenfold.
"You're so knotted up and tense," she said.
"I know," he said off-handedly. He didn't know if it was the booze or her hands, but his inhibitions and guardedness were low to nonexistent. She had gotten to him in more ways than one. "Bank robberies are driving me crazy. I can't focus on anything else."
Her hands stopped moving abruptly. Bank robberies? Did he say bank robberies? She hoped she had been imagining things. Oh God how she hoped. She quickly went back to the massage. "Bank robberies?" Her voice was no more than a loud squeak.
It didn't hit him that he had let some information slip until she repeated the words. But he felt the need to tell her everything, he just couldn't. "Yes."
Her heart began to pound hard in her chest. She had just realized her worst fear. Her lover, the man she loved, was working a series of bank robberies that she was in the thick of. "The ones that have been all over the news? Sideshow?"
He grimaced at the mention of the nickname. He hated that it had leaked to the press. "That's the one."
Oh dear God. What was she going to do? Her FBI agent lover was hunting her down. She wondered if he had been in on the case from the beginning. She was tempted to ask, but she bit it back. She wouldn't use him for information. She just wouldn't. However, something inside her was destroyed now. She didn't know if she could ever recover. Numbly, she continued caressing his shoulders, totally unaware of what she was doing. For all she knew, she could have been physically hurting him. She would eventually have to confess, that's all there was to it. But how? "Let it…let it leave your mind," she said softly. "I'm sure you'll find them." Swallowing her larruping heart, she made a decision. A clear one. She was going to lead him right where he needed to be. "Frank? Tom's last name is Kipplinger."
She moved when she felt his body shifting. He turned to his side and gazed up at her. "Why are you telling me now? Why didn't you tell me earlier? Baby, I don't understand what's going on here."
She shrugged and shook her head. "I owe you, Frank."
Suddenly, her eyes seemed to be overflowing with tears. They came from nowhere. "Kayla, what's wrong?" His eyes searched her face. "You owe me for what? What is it?"
"Nothing," she whispered as she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "Nothing at all." She kissed him again and he deepened it, plunging his tongue into her inviting mouth. When he broke it, his hand came up and began caressing her cheek. Her eyes were still shiny and tear filled. "Make love to me," she said. "I want you so much."
For Kayla, it wasn't a lust or a need thing. After tonight, she didn't know what was going to happen between her and Frank. It was anyone's guess. She supposed she was living a lie, but she wanted to hang onto it, hang onto him, for as long as possible. Since she now knew he was working the Sideshow case, it was only a matter of time before he uncovered everything. She hoped she could get out, but she wasn't so sure it would make a difference anyway. She knew deep down inside her heart that she was going to lose him, and that he would be the one to make her ultimately pay for her crimes. The thought should have terrified her, but it didn't. Perhaps it was punishment well deserved, needed.
It didn't take long for either of them to shed their clothing barriers. Once that was taken care of, he came down to her on the bed and allowed his mouth to cover hers. During their kiss, she plunged her hands into his hair to hold him in place for as long as he would allow. She loved the taste of him, the way he seemed to take her breath without actually taking it, and the way his tongue plundered the inside of her mouth. She reveled in the sensation of it all, his luscious mouth devoured her completely. It was mind-boggling how he affected her. She would never understand it and never understand why fate could be so damn cruel sometimes.
He broke the kiss after several long moments to gaze down at her. There were still tears in her eyes. "Whatever is going on inside you, Kayla, it doesn't matter. It won't change the way I feel about you. Ever. Nothing could make me stop loving you." Those gentle, soft-spoken words would come back to haunt him in the near future. But for now, he was unaware of the changes that would soon occur.
"I hope you mean that," she whispered as if she had knowledge of the future. "I hope it's not just pillow talk and you getting swept away by the moment."
He grasped her shoulder and turned her to her side so she would be facing him. "I love you, Kayla. What I say to you at any time is never said during the heat of the moment. Never. I'm not a user, I don't play games, and I am not in the habit of sleeping with women because I can. Do you understand?"
She nodded and blinked her eyes rapidly, sending a patter of tears down onto her cheeks. "I do."
He kissed her again, pulling her body against his, nearly crushing her into him. Their kiss deepened, and she felt herself slowly drifting downward until her back hit the mattress. When the kiss was broken, his beautiful mouth and skillful hands touched her, tasted her, alit fire after fire within her quivering body. She was almost at the point of begging him to come inside her when he entered her slowly, deeply. Soulfully, he had touched her in every way. She was convinced that she would never love like this again in her lifetime. Release after sweet release hit her, rocking her, shaking her to her very core. At his climax, she tightened her hold on his body, literally clamping her legs about his waist. Her nails dug deep furrows along his back. She heard him taking in a sharp hissed breath as the sweat trickled down and stung the fresh grooves. She placed a smattering of kisses on his lips. They were brief, but very soft. At that point, she could keep the tears at bay no longer. He drank them in as if they were precious water.
"Hold me," came her plea. "Just like this. Please, Frank. Don't let me go."
"Kayla," he said, almost moaning her name. "You're killing me. I want to help you, but you won't let me."
She didn't answer him, didn't say another word outside her plea for him to hold her. It was all she could manage. She was in the midst of living, breathing hell, but she endured it. She had no choice. There was no escape. Not now. Not ever.
To be continued…