Guilty

Chapter 9 - Epilogue

Della walked slowly down the path to the beach, carefully balancing the tray holding the glasses and pitcher of her Aunt Mae's jasmine iced tea. The refreshing breeze from the ocean gently lifted her curls as she moved.

When she saw the big man sitting in the lounge chair, she stopped, just staring, drinking in the sight she never thought she'd see again. His complexion was just starting to bronze again, and to her relief, his dark hair was only slightly threaded with the same silver he had had before. He was lying back in the chair, eyes closed, completely relaxed. His massive chest, now devoid of its lush thatch of black hair, rose and fell in a rhythm that matched her own heartbeat.

"If that tea is for me, I wish you'd bring it on down. I'm thirsty."

She laughed, surprising herself. Something else she thought she'd never do again. "Do you have a tracking device planted on me?"

"You should know by now you wear an invisible bell around your neck only I can hear." His eyes opened and he sat up, swinging his legs on the side of the chair, and drank in the view of his girl. Then he rose in that a fluid motion that always amazed Della.

Striding toward her, he took the tray, carrying it back to the table beside the lounge chair. He pulled a second chair next to his, then came back to take her hand and eased her onto it. She leaned forward to pour the tea, but he waved her away.

"For days now people have been fussing over me. My turn." He poured a glass of the amber liquid, passed it to Della, then repeated the process for himself.

Settling back in his own chair, he stared out at the waves and watched as a gull swooped down, hunting for food. Della pretended to take a sip, but she was too wrapped up in watching him to actually drink anything. He was right, of course. For days she and her aunt had taken turns—and in some instances, double-teaming—caring for him while he recovered from his ordeal.

At first, he had been silent and moody, although he had always managed a teasing smile for her. When she first asked what happened, he hadn't been ready to tell her. Something was on his mind, that much she knew, and from extended practice she also knew trying to force him to talk before he was ready was an exercise in frustration. Then yesterday, he spoke. Not everything, not all at once. Just bits and pieces leading up to his abduction. Now her keen interest, not just in what happened to him, but in the case itself, was burning a hole in her mind.

"So, are you ready to finish the story?" she blurted, then reddened.

Perry chuckled at her persistence. "Okay, okay. I can't very well let curiosity kill you! Where was I?"

"How did Paul know where to find you?"

"Well, it's really thanks to Dr. Hoxie and the lab boys. Ainsworth got careless with Daniel Martin. They found tiny metal shavings in the cuff of his pants. When they took a closer look, they discovered traces of a specific type of steel, aluminum and high-grade oil. Tragg used that to start checking warehouses. He found an old metal working plant registered to an R.O. Twains."

"R. O. Twains?" she repeated, her eyebrow elevated.

"It's an anagram of Ainsworth's name. And Twains…twins."

Della gave a small laugh. "And which one of our geniuses figured that one out?"

"Actually it took an entire village," he joked, pausing to take a sip of his tea. "So it was a combined effort. Once they knew which warehouse, the cavalry rushed in."

"He had you for days, Perry. Not just an afternoon or night. DAYS." Della reached out, placing her hand on his arm, giving a gentle squeeze. "I just can't help thinking . . . I shouldn't have agreed to hide. I should have stayed with you."

Perry took her hand, holding tightly. "Della, don't say that. I pray to God you never know all the details of the crime scenes. I'm fine. Both of those maniacs are dead. It's over."

Two tears streaked down Della's cheeks before she could stop them. She set her glass on the table and tried to turn away, but he was too quick. Standing, he gathered her into his arms.

"Della," he breathed, making her name sound like a lover's caress, "please. There's something I need to tell you." He drew her closer, moving his mouth next to her ear. "When I was lying on that cold gurney, I kept thinking about you, hoping you were safe. It was the only thing that kept me sane, knowing I had to escape and protect you."

Della's arms closed around him, causing Perry to catch his breath.

It's now or never, Mason. Be gentle. Lord, help me to say the right words.

"I need to say something and I'm going to ask you to just listen." She raised her head, looking up into those incredibly blue eyes. She gave a slight nod, almost laughing when she saw him swallow deeply. "I know it's the worst of clichés and I don't want— Well, if you want to . . . I promise I'll understand if— Damn it, this is hard! It's just that. . ."

"Oh, for pity's sake, Perry! Just say it."

"I love you."

It came out in a whisper, but she heard the words. They were the three words she had longed to hear for as long as she had known him. Still, she wanted something a little more. Looking at him steadily, she said lightly, "It's mutual, Chief. I love you, too. You matter to me. After all, I would be so bored if I had to break in a new boss."

He stared down at her. She can't possibly be this dense. Not my girl.

Then he realized he had phrased the entire declaration wrong. Smothering the impulse to swear at himself, he met her laughing eyes and found his mouth curving into an answering smile. "Well played, Miss Street. Well played. But you deliberately misunderstood me."

"Did I?" she asked recklessly. "Then you better clarify your position, Counselor."

"I'm in love with you."

Bringing her arms up to entwine around his neck, she stood on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss on his lips. "Better, Mr. Mason. Much, much better."

As light as her kiss had been, it initiated a fire coursing through him. Wrapping his arms around her, he almost lifted her from her feet as he kissed her. She let herself relax into his embrace, tilting her head to allow him better access. He was lost in her spell, and warm, thrilling kiss after kiss were met on soft, yielding lips. She pressed him tighter, unaware of a very unladylike moan that escaped.

"Della," he urged, pulling back reluctantly only long enough to hear her reply.

"I'm in love you, too," she said in a throaty whisper he had never heard before.

He bent his head to hers again, recapturing her mouth. When they broke apart, he swung her around, making her laugh. He was as lighthearted as a rich man on holiday. Finally, he set her on her feet and became serious. She watched in rapture as his eyes darkened until they were nearly black.

"What witchery have you worked on me, Della?" He cupped her cheeks and gently kissed her curls. "Even now I'm bemused, bothered and bewildered."

She laughed joyfully. "And now I'll have that song stuck in my head."

His dimples flashed. "Turnabout is fair play. You made me work for this!"

Perry sat down in the chair, pulling her onto his lap. Soft words, caught by the ocean breeze, were exchanged and then carried away on the wind. Kisses turned into passion as years of buried emotions were unearthed. The fire between them melted away the rest of the world as the newfound lovers retreated into a private paradise of their own.

Paul had started down the path when Mae's voice stopped him cold. "Paul Drake! If you go down there now, I will personally skin you alive. Now come in the house right this minute! I have fresh apple pie and my jasmine tea."

"But—"

Her look cut off the rest of his words. Shrugging, he took one last look at his two best friends wrapped in a lovers' embrace before following her into the house. The latest case would just have to wait.