Chapter 42

A month later—Sunday, February 1

I pulled into my spot in the garage, turned off the ignition and reached for Stephanie, pulling her over the console into my lap. All the way home from her parents' house I'd had a steel rod in the front of my pants as I watched her in my peripheral vision. We'd done some pretty heavy-duty kissing to celebrate surviving our first dinner with her family, and she was perpetual motion in the seat next to me. The throbbing of the Turbo's powerful engine vibrating beneath us added to the stimulation of the hot kisses. Thank God we were home.

Dinner with Stephanie's family had gone a lot better than I expected, with no discussion about the broken engagement or the benefits of marrying Joe Morelli. Stephanie talked to her mother on the phone several times over the past month and explained why she couldn't marry Morelli. Mrs. Plum was appalled to hear how little attention he'd paid to Stephanie's needs, and had reconsidered her estimation of him as good husband material.

Morelli had been a royal pain in the ass over the past six weeks, constantly calling and trying to see Stephanie, even after Mrs. Plum stopped supporting his cause. So a couple of evenings ago we invited him to the apartment to discuss matters. Stephanie held tight to my hand and told him in no uncertain terms how she felt about him.

To give him credit, he was horrified to realize that his treatment of her had been borderline sexual abuse. She'd never objected, in fact she initiated the contact, and he honestly had no idea that he was treating her like the prostitute El Látigo had made of her. What a fool.

After a muttered, "I'm sorry, Cupcake," he took off, head down. I don't think Stephanie will be hearing from him again.

Mrs. Plum was an excellent dinner hostess, warm and cordial, keeping the conversation flowing comfortably. She asked Stephanie about the work she was doing for Rangeman and me about the security business in general, and she didn't hesitate to voice her satisfaction that Stephanie was safe and comfortable in her job. Frank Plum didn't say much, but we had some silent communication and I could sense his approval.

Stephanie's crazy grandmother spent the whole evening with her eyes fixed on my crotch, making me shrivel to prune consistency like fruit left too long in the sun.

That was no longer a problem as Stephanie flung her arms around my neck and kissed me hard, our teeth clashing. Then our mouths were open and when our tongues touched I felt the jolt as the power of it hit her body, even as the same force rocketed through mine.

She moaned, then tore her mouth away, saying, "Oh God, Carlos, I want you so much."

"I don't know, Babe," I teased her. "Do you think you're ready?"

"I'm so ready I think my panties are going to burst into flames."

I got out of the car holding her pressed tight against me, my hands under her butt, her arms and legs wrapped around me. As I stepped into the elevator my heart was lighter than it had been in years, maybe ever.

For the past month I'd been easing Stephanie toward this moment. She hadn't tried to touch me again after I stopped her that night back in December, but we'd grown closer and closer, spending almost every waking moment together, sleeping with our bodies entangled every night. Lately I'd been tantalizing her with kisses and touches meant to arouse, to stimulate her hormones, to make her want me the way I wanted her, and it was time.

The elevator door dinged open on the seventh floor and I carried Stephanie into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind me. I pushed her up against the wall in the entranceway and pressed my cock hard between her legs.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Babe?" I asked again.

"Carlos," she murmured, planting feathery kisses on my face and down my throat. "Yes, Carlos, I'm positive. Now will you please make love to me?"

Without another word I carried her into the bedroom.

oOo

Epilogue—A Part of Me

You've become a part of me
You'll always be right here
You've become a part of me
You'll always be my fear
I can't separate
Myself from what I've done
Giving up a part of me
I've let myself become you
—Linkin Park (Figure.09, Meteora)

Eleven months later—Monday, January 4

"Who's on duty today?" Stephanie asked me as we were eating breakfast. "I need to find a dress for Lula and Tank's shower and get a gift for them."

It was the first workday of a new year, another good one, I prayed. The past year with Stephanie was the best of my life.

She didn't want to go out for New Year's Eve, so we spent the evening making out on the couch, Stephanie sitting on my lap to watch the ball drop on TV. Then I took her to bed and made love to her over and over again, her cries of ecstasy ringing in the New Year. What better way to begin?

I watched as she nibbled on a small triangle of multi-grain toast. She was dressed in her black RangeMan uniform, long glossy brunette curls tumbling down her back and framing her face. I reached out and twisted a ringlet around my finger as I leaned over to snatch a coffee-flavored kiss.

Stephanie is as beautiful as she's ever been, with the scars on her back and ankle faded to near invisibility, although the puckered white burn circles on her arms will remain a forever reminder and testament to the need for vigilance. She's still much thinner than before the kidnapping, without the same zest for eating. I'm thinner, as well, although my ulcers have healed and I've gained enough weight back so that the lines in my face are a little less pronounced.

"Mmm…" Stephanie turned toward me to meet my kiss, sliding her hands around my neck, threading her fingers into my hair. I keep it long because she likes it that way, even though the change in color changed its texture, the white hair coarser than my former dark brown. I can't be bothered to dye it, and Stephanie kids me occasionally, calling me her distinguished-looking "older gentleman." I prefer it when her eyes darken to cobalt and she tells me that no matter what color my hair is, I'm still the hottest thing on three legs.

I released her lips and answered her question. "Brett and Binkie are covering you."

"Oh, good. They'll be fine at the mall. I'm glad it's not Cal and Junior. The last time I tried to go shopping with them the clerk in Macy's called store security and we ended up having to leave."

I smiled at her. It warmed my heart seeing her so matter of fact about going to the mall, and yet I had that niggling sense of apprehension that persists whenever she goes anywhere without me, that fear of losing her again.

It took eight months before I managed to let Stephanie leave the RangeMan building without taking her myself. Finally in August when she wanted to shop for a present for my birthday I sent her to the mall with four guards, including Tank. And even now, going on two years since the kidnapping, she never goes anywhere without at least two men on her. She accepts the protection without question, having still not regained the stubborn independence that was once her hallmark. At this point I doubt she'll ever get it back.

"Tell me again why I have to go to this shower?" I asked. "I always thought wedding showers were a female thing." I wasn't looking forward to the event, and security was going to be a bear with the crowd and the fact that most of my men would be there as guests.

"You know perfectly well that co-ed showers are the norm now." She winked at me and I felt a stirring, thinking about a co-ed shower of another kind.

She read my mind and grinned. "Down, boy. It's really just a party to show them how happy we are that they're getting married. And since we're standing up for them, it's important that we're there."

Tank and Lula had stood up for us, too, and were the only ones present when Stephanie and I were married in May in a quiet civil ceremony at City Hall. Mrs. Plum was disappointed that there was no big wedding with all the attendant fuss and flutter, but she accepted our announcement and seemed pleased to have Stephanie married and settled.

Since we were both divorced there were too many hoops to jump through, annulments and special dispensations, to be married in the church. I'd checked. I still drop by St. James sometimes, though, lighting a candle and thanking God for giving Stephanie back to me.

For our honeymoon I leased a private island in the Caribbean for a month, securing it with a team of twelve armed guards patrolling the beaches in shifts. They stayed out of our way, but we both knew they were there and felt safer for it.

"I've got the Commadelphia meeting today, Babe, potential huge account," I told Stephanie. "I need to put on a suit and then I'll be on three most of the day. Ella's serving lunch, and there's a good chance I'll end up going out to dinner with them, too. Are you available to join us? Your charm could be the swing factor in closing the deal."

She wrinkled her nose at me. She still has that modesty that prevents her from recognizing her considerable personal strengths, but her self-confidence has grown noticeably over the past year.

"Well, I'm not sure how much help I can be, but I'd love to go to dinner with you. I'm going to try to get most of my work done this morning and then I'm meeting Connie at the mall for lunch and shopping. I should be back in the office by four, so just let me know about dinner."

She gave me a perfunctory kiss and started for the door, but I beat her there, backing her up against the wall and capturing her lips, putting lots of tongue into the kiss until she was swaying and moaning.

I've cut back considerably on my work schedule since Stephanie and I have been together, doing only what absolutely requires my personal attention, mainly dealing with clients and contracts. When I have to travel to the other RangeMan offices Stephanie goes with me, and she now has her own desk in each branch and responsibilities above and beyond just computer searches. Even though she's not as outgoing as she was before the kidnapping, her beautiful smile and reserved friendliness have charmed my men in Miami, Boston and Atlanta as thoroughly as those in Trenton.

I named Tank managing partner for all of RangeMan, giving him a one-fourth share in the company, and he's been doing an outstanding job running things. Business is flourishing, our investments are skyrocketing in spite of swings in the economy, and we have more money than Stephanie and I could spend in three lifetimes.

"Oh, my," Stephanie gasped, touching a finger to her red, swollen lips when I finally released her. "Wow."

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't taking me for granted, Babe." I gave her what she likes to call my wolf-grin and she responded with a grin of her own.

"Never, Cariño." She gave me a smack on the butt and walked out the door, headed for the fifth floor.

It took her a couple of months to muster the courage to begin working downstairs again. She was uncomfortable being the only woman in a company full of men who knew everything about the kidnapping and the hell she'd undergone. I eased the transition by bringing the guys up to the apartment one or two at a time so that she had the opportunity to get used to them again.

When she finally did go down to the fifth floor, I had Tank assign her a private office rather than a cubicle, and I stayed close for the first few days to make sure nobody made a fuss or embarrassed her. She's happy now working for RangeMan and has never mentioned going back to bounty hunting. I hope she never will.

After our little talk last year Joe Morelli stopped trying to see Stephanie and moved on. In spite of his long hours and frequent undercover assignments he's managed to date a series of nurses and teachers and waitresses. He's still looking for his ideal woman, a wildcat in bed, a gourmet chef in the kitchen, and a potential Supermom for a brood of children. He hasn't settled on anyone yet, and I can understand why. Once you've been with Stephanie nobody else seems to measure up.

As I changed into my suit and tied my hair back my mind drifted to yesterday's Sunday dinner at the Plum house, grateful to have that over with for another month. The first thing I did when Stephanie came to live with me was cut the weekly dinners down to monthly.

Stephanie's father and grandmother have accepted me into the family easily, although Grandma Mazur still stares at me in a way that sends my balls skittering for cover.

Mrs. Plum has been understanding and accepting of Stephanie's choices over the past year, but she can't always hide her disappointment that Stephanie doesn't fit neatly into the Burg mold. As soon as we got married she began to drop not-so-subtle hints about pregnancy and the importance of having a family. I stopped by one afternoon to have a private chat with her, and the badgering ended.

But deep in my heart I've begun to feel a longing. I still only see my daughter Julie once or twice a year, and approaching middle age, I'm at a point in my life that I want to leave some kind of legacy in the world. A child. Perhaps a son to carry on my name, to take over the business. Or a daughter, so that I can be the father I never was to Julie.

Stephanie was getting the three-month birth control shots before she was kidnapped, and resumed them when she returned to Trenton. I wonder what she would think about stopping them and just seeing what happens.

I'll talk to her about it tonight.

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed
And don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
—Linkin Park (Leave Out All the Rest, Minutes to Midnight)

The End