40. Dont Dream Its Over
Don't Dream It's Over
Charlotte
A s I shut Bronnie’s bedroom door behind me, Arden pulls Gabriel’s door closed.
“Are the boys asleep?” I whisper.
“Out like a light. They wore themselves out today.”
“Are you headed for your own bed?”
He watches me with an assessing gaze and a small smile. “I was thinking of heading back outside to the fire if you’d like to join me.”
“Let me grab a sweatshirt, and I’ll meet you out there.”
Smiling, his gaze lingers on my eyes before he leans down and brushes his lips against mine. “I’ll get the fire going.”
I join him five minutes later to find him pacing in front of the firepit and talking on the phone. “So I use the little pieces of kindling again or can I go straight to a full-sized log?”
When he sees me, he cuts off his conversation, hangs up, then scratches the back of his neck. “Did you hear that?”
“A little of it. Yes.”
“We still have some coals from earlier, but I wasn’t sure if there is a specific way one is meant to stoke the fire. I was hoping one of the guys could talk me through it before you came out. I could have figured it out, I’m sure, but I was attempting to be more efficient after my incident with the grill.”
“Don’t you have fireplaces in your house?”
“Are you going to make me say it?”
“I think you have to, because I’m confused.”
“The staff maintain them. Most of them are gas. I light the others sometimes, but if I do, it’s an already prepared stack of kindling and logs.”
I blink and look back at the coals.
“This firepit is my silverware and amuse-bouche,” he says.
I squeeze his hand. “That’s okay.”
“I tried to set up the best version of a ‘normal’ vacation I could think of, but”—Arden points at his eyebrows—“I burned my eyebrows because I have no idea how to use a grill. If sitcoms and television commercials are anything to go by, every man in the United States of America is born knowing how to cook outside.”
I cover my smile.
“I tried to wash the boys’ chocolate-covered shirts and baked the stains in. The coffee I made this morning was undrinkable . What the hell have I been doing with my life that I don’t know how to do these things?”
“Raising kids. Running companies. Flying planes, keeping your family safe, and putting baddies in prison?”
I snort. “Besides that.”
“Being perfectly honest, I’d sit back and bask in the joy of not having to do laundry. I’ll teach you if you want, but”—she grimaces—“it’s laundry.”
“It’d be good to know how.”
“You’ll have it mastered in ten minutes. Want me to teach you how to make a campfire too?”
“My ego is taking a beating right now.”
I stretch up to kiss his bearded chin. “I’ll stroke it better later. I like seeing this side of you. You’re not posturing the way a lot of men would be, and you’re willing to learn new things when you don’t have to.”
He wraps me in his arms and cradles my head against his shoulder. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He straightens. “All right. Tell me how to stoke the fire, wise one.”
W hen flames are crackling behind me, Arden lowers himself to sit on the Adirondack chair, then lifts me onto his lap. I straddle him, both of us fully clothed, with my knees on either side of his narrow hips. “This is a risky position we’re in.”
“Some things are worth the risk.” Arden fists my hair and kisses me like we have all night. Like tasting me is the best thing he’s ever done.
There are so many things that will change when Arden and I can be together all the time. We’ll have this kind of intimacy every night.
Once I slipped Rochelle in with RealFreedom as the new liaison, I finally relaxed fully and let myself believe this could work. Maybe I can’t forget the body in the basement, but I don’t have to be the one to guard it all the time. I can have a life with Arden.
When Arden slides those wide palms under my tank top, he reaches around and unclasps my bra without a single hitch.
Then he stiffens and draws away from our kiss.
I search his expression, but rather than looking back at me, Arden scowls out into the darkness and gives a sharp lift of his chin as he gives someone on his security team an order.
“I forgot they were here. Did one of your people see us?” I ask.
He reaches to the chair beside us for a blanket. “If he did, it was incidental. I’m not usually so distracted. They’re giving us privacy now.”
Arden wraps the blanket around me, and I sigh and wrinkle my nose. “It’s too hot.”
“If the kids wake up and come looking for us, I don’t want to give them an eyeful.”
“Exactly what are you planning?”
When Arden drags the blanket over both of our heads like a makeshift tent and holds it there, I gasp with laughter.
His eyes twinkle in the firelight that glows through the thin fabric. “A game. We’ll call this one ‘ Sir Says .’”
I snicker, but my pelvis clenches in a rush of liquid arousal. “Is it like Simon Says?”
“Exactly like that. Sir Says, ‘Take off your sweatshirt.’”
I squirm on his lap as I wiggle out of the navy BSU sweatshirt, then reach a hand outside the blanket, dropping the clothing on the ground next to our chair.
Arden watches me with a wolfish smile, the ivory waffle-weave cotton blanket thin enough that illumination from the fire and the patio light make their way through for us to see each other in the amber glow.
The delicious scent of whatever outrageously expensive cologne he wears mixes with the scent of campfire and my own fruity body spray I usually buy at a Buy One, Get One Half Off sale.
“ Sir Says, ‘Lift your tank top all the way over your breasts,’” he says.
I’m wearing two, so I raise the top layer.
“You’re too good at this,” he says.
“What happens if I lose the game?”
He hums, then says, “Tonight, it means switching leaders. You’ll tell me what to do.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I am getting better at that.”
“You’re incredible at it. You can always throw the game if you’re in the mood.” He leans back. “ Sir Says , ‘Kiss me . . . on the mouth with tongue.’” He adds the last part because he knows I’ll take every loophole I can find to tease him.
The kiss leaves me breathless. Then I straighten and wait expectantly for my next order. Arden’s cock flexes against me, but I stay still, enjoying this game too much to risk losing.
“ Sir Says , ‘Show me your naked breasts and continue to show them to me until I say to stop or until such time as I give a directive that comes into conflict with my previous order.’”
I huff a laugh at his phrasing. “You’re such a lawyer.”
A low rumble of a boat engine sounds, waves slap against the shore, crickets chirp, and the fire crackles. None of it distracts me from the man beneath me. I lift the remaining tank top and my already unclasped bra, securing them with a little tuck and exposing my breasts to the now humid night air.
Arden stares, navy eyes glazing with lust. He swallows hard and speaks in a gravelly tone. “ Sir Says , ‘Don’t move.’”
Dark head leaning close. A hot, wet suction as he closes his lips around my nipple and flicks the turgid peak with his tongue. Heat gliding through me, all the way to my core. I barely remember not to arch into him and to keep my hands at my sides.
With a pop, he moves to my neglected breast and continues his sensual assault. I can’t help the inadvertent squeeze of my thighs or the way I shift against him. I’m supposed to stay still. “Sorry. Sorry.”
He lifts his head and rumbles in my ear, “I’ll let this one go. You’re trying so hard to be good.”
I entirely lose my capacity for thought. I am nothing but hot, liquid want .
“Put two fingers in my mouth,” he says.
I almost do. “Simon didn’t say so.”
He narrows his eyes. “Brave of you to use another man’s name when I’ve got you nearly . . . nakedly . . . on my lap.”
I’m not a giggler. But with Arden, I do.
“ Sir Says , ‘Give me those fingers.’”
I press my pointer and index fingers to his lips, but I’m confused by the request. It doesn’t sound sexy at all—
He draws me into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the digits, then sucking.
“Oh my gosh,” I breathe, because why does him sucking on my fingers feel like—? “If I did this to myself, I’d feel nothing . What witchcraft is this?” I both ask and accuse.
He draws back and laughs, then says, “ Sir Says, ‘Let me see you use those wet fingers to play with your nipples.’”
Cheeks blazing with heat that’s more than a result of the campfire or the night breeze, I pinch my nipple.
If possible, he hardens beneath me even more.
“Arden.” A male voice sounds from across the backyard, and I stiffen in response. Arden doesn’t seem to hear him, his gaze trained on my body.
“I’m sorry, man, but we need to talk. Now.”
Arden gives me a concerned look, then drops the blanket around my shoulders and looks back in the same direction he had when we first sat down. “What is it?”
Under cover of the blanket and burning with embarrassment, I scramble to pull my tank tops and bra back into place. I don’t bother to latch my bra, but as soon as I’m adequately covered, Arden scoots me off his lap to stand and reaches for my sweatshirt. Handing it to me, he kisses my forehead. “Give me a minute.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll let you know when I do.”
Then he’s gone, melting into the darkness. Is there danger here? Paparazzi?
“Arden?”
He doesn’t answer when I call, and anxiety spikes through me. Instinct kicks in, and I hurry to the plastic bucket of water we put there for the fire, heft it, and dump the contents over the burning logs. The blaze doesn’t die quietly. It fights its end with hisses and crackles of protest, but I don’t wait or watch. I’m sure Bronnie is fine, but Arden disappearing with Reese feels . . . ominous. I need to see the kids snug in their beds. Once I’ve done that, I’ll go back downstairs and wait for Arden.
I’m nearly jogging by the time I reach the second floor and turn toward the room I’m sharing with Bronnie. At the sight of the open bedroom door, my heart pounds in my ears, nauseous fear jolting through me. I left that door closed . I know I did. Now, it’s wide open.
At home, if Bronnie wakes, she comes looking for me, but I haven’t seen or heard her since I put her to bed. I sprint down the hall and into the bedroom, praying I’ll find her here. At this point, I’ll take awake or asleep, as long as she’s in this room.
An empty bed greets me, and I scramble, whipping the blankets away as if I’ll somehow find her amidst the flattened quilts and sheets.
“Bronnie? Bronnie?! Baby, where are you?” Nothing.
I flick on every light and check the closet and under the bed. She’s not in the bathroom.
Dread suffocates me. I didn’t so much as glance in the great room when I came upstairs. If she climbed over that balcony—No. She doesn’t do that, anymore. And I would have heard her fall, wouldn’t I? If she woke up, why didn’t she call for me? The window was open. I would’ve heard her.
Racing into the hallway, I nearly collide with Arden as he emerges from Henry’s room, his expression thunderous.
“Have you seen Henry?”
“Have you seen Bronnie?”
We ask our questions at the same time.
Arden swipes a hand down his face. “He took her with him?”
“Who took her where ?”
Arden has already turned and headed for the steps but calls over his shoulder, “Henry. We’ll find them. Try not to worry. We’re on it.”
Gabriel emerges from his room, tousled and sleepy, dragging what looks like an ancient blue blanket. “Dad?”
Arden pauses on the stairs. “Get dressed, buddy. Code Orange.”
The sleepiness leaves his little face, and he nods. “Affirmative.”
Affirmative?! From a six-year-old?
Arden continues down the stairs, and I chase after him. “What the hell is going on? Where is my daughter?”
“We’ll get them back. There’s no sign of foul play.”
I yank on his arm. “Our kids are gone, and you’re acting like it’s nothing. What is wrong with you?”
“Panic doesn’t help.”
I slap him, or I try to. It’s not a deliberate move on my part, but my hand flies out before I even process the thought that I want to hit him. The mama bear is not just awake inside me, she’s terror-stricken.
He catches my wrist before I make contact, holding it there, inches from his cheek, then he pulls me against his body in a tight hug. “Shhh. I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get Bronnie and Henry back, and they’ll both be fine.”
“Where are they?”
“They took the pontoon for a night cruise,” he says.
“What?” I shove out of his arms, turning in the direction of the lake, as if I can run straight out into the water to find them.
“The security team was giving us privacy, so they weren’t close enough to see or stop them in time.”
Arrested, I stare at him in horror.
He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I got . . . too comfortable. But there’s no sign anyone else is involved. It’s probably not a kidnapping.”
“ Probably ?” Rapid breaths saw in and out of my lungs until spots dance in my eyes, but I can’t make myself stop.
He rubs my back. “Highly unlikely. There’s no indication of a request for ransom or foul play. It’s just two kids on an adventure.”
I twist away from him. “They’re four and eight. How does Henry know how to drive a boat?” I clutch his shirt when blackness encroaches on my vision.
“Charlotte, you need to calm down. Honey, you’re going to pass out. Breathe slowly.”
“They’ll die from hypothermia or drown. Bronwyn tells everyone she can swim, but she’s barely past the guppy stage. She can’t—Henry said this lake is almost 23,000 miles of surface distance. They may as well be lost at sea.”
“Henry is very good at figuring things out. There’s not a doubt in my mind he took supplies with them. They won’t freeze, and they won’t drown.”
“Why are you standing here?”
“To prevent you from losing consciousness and because you demanded I stop what I was doing to explain what was happening.”
“They’re going to die. They could already be dead.”
He shakes his head. “Henry wouldn’t have allowed Bronnie on the boat without a life jacket. He won’t let anything happen to her. Reese has already contacted the Coast Guard and called in a private search team.”
He eases his hands away from my biceps as my breathing slows. “You’re okay?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
Hand on my mouth, I follow him onto the porch. One of the men whose name I don’t remember passes Arden on the porch.
“Gabriel is inside. He’s your responsibility,” Arden says.
Three other team members stand in the driveway.
One of them flips his cellphone closed and places it in a holster at his waist when we join them. “CB’s are going to be more effective here. Cell service is limited.”
“Henry has Bronnie with him. Gabriel is inside,” Arden says. “We need to get more people searching.”
All business, the man nods and turns to make further arrangements. A helicopter chop chop chops in the distance, and floodlights beam across the night sky.
Arden turns to me. “I’m taking another chopper out to join the search.”
“I’m going with you.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Charlotte . . .” He hesitates.
“What?” I snap.
He moves his hands gently up and down my arms. “I think it would be best for you to stay here.”
“No. Don’t you dare tell me to sit still on my hands. That’s not how I work.”
“Believe me, I know. We’re leaning into our strengths, Charlotte. That’s called a partnership. If someone else finds them and brings them straight back, we need you to be waiting for them. And it’s much more likely that one of the other crews will get to them first.”
I blow out a short breath. He’s right. He has the skills and ability to do something that I can’t. I’m getting in his way. “Okay. That’s a good plan. They can’t have gotten far, right?” I ask hopefully.
One of the guys within hearing distance bobs his head side to side. “That depends on whether Henry was planning to drift for fun or if he had a destination in mind. If he’s trying to run away . . .”
The man catches Arden’s eye and trails off. “I mean, I’m sure they’re nearby, Miss Charlotte.”
“Thank you, Brock,” Arden says.
Brock peers at me in the buzz of the porch light. “Try not to worry, ma’am. It may not seem like it, but Henry is very capable of figuring things out, and he was raised around boats and water. He knows how to stay safe. The kids might give themselves a scare, but they’ll be all right.”
I reach out and squeeze Arden’s hand. He turns to face me, then draws me against his body in a tight hug.
For the first time, I notice the faint tremor in his muscles. He’s terrified too .