Chapter 3
Paige
He finally releases me, and I’m not sure whether I’m relieved or disappointed. I’m shaking so badly as I rub my hands that it’s a wonder I’m able to stay on my feet.
This can’t be happening. It was never supposed to happen. Of course, nothing that’s happened to me in the past three years was supposed to happen, so why am I surprised about this?
Dane rubs his temples with both hands as he stares at me. He’s only standing a few feet from me. He looks so damn good. He’s slightly older, of course, but that’s only made him sexier. He’s gained muscle. He’s broader and more buff than he was three years ago. His dirty-blond hair is the same. His green eyes bore into me the way they always did.
My mouth is dry. I try to lick my lips. “Dane…”
His nostrils flare, and he turns to the side, grabs the lamp off the end table next to the loveseat, and throws it across the room. It shatters into a million pieces.
I flinch and flatten myself to the door. Dane was never a violent man. I’ve never seen him this angry, but how can I blame him? He must be out of his mind.
He paces away from me and then comes back, hands on his hips. He meets my gaze again. “You better start talking, Paige. I swear to God.”
I wince. “Shannon.”
He leans slightly closer, his jaw tight, his words harsh. “I’m not fucking calling you Shannon. Start fucking talking.”
My legs won’t hold me upright any longer, and I’m not willing to step around him to sit on either the couch or the bed, or hell, even the spanking bench like a civilized human. Instead, I slide down the wall and drop onto my ass.
My skirt is too short for this to be decent, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s not like Dane hasn’t seen my pussy before. At least I’m wearing black lace panties. I hug my knees and set my chin on them. I’m overwhelmed. Tears rush down my cheeks. I don’t know where to begin.
“Fuck!” Dane exclaims. It’s the main word both of us have used since he saw me. He sounds slightly calmer now—until he takes in another breath. “Are you going to fucking tell me what the hell is going on?”
I tip my head back and glare at him. “Yes, Dane. Fuck. Stop yelling at me.” A sob escapes me. I want to be able to control my emotions, but I can’t. The tears won’t stop. “I’m in shock. I never expected to run into you. So fucking cut me a fucking break for a minute.”
“Fuck,” he says again. He spins around and stomps over to a mini fridge. He opens it and grabs a bottle of water. After hesitating for a moment, he puts it back and switches to a Dr Pepper.
He remembers…
My heart is in my throat as the man I once expected to spend my life loving returns to me with my favorite beverage. He even twists off the top to loosen it before he hands it to me. He always did that.
I reach up and take it. “Thank you,” I whisper. I could use the liquid, the caffeine, and the sugar. I take a long drink and put the lid back on.
He holds out his hand again. “Come.” His voice is calmer. “I promise I’ll stop shouting.”
I’m not sure I trust that promise. He hasn’t heard what I have to say yet. He may very well start yelling again.
“You can’t be comfortable on the floor, Paige.” He shakes his hand.
I stare up at him. “Shannon.”
He inhales slowly and says nothing.
I tentatively take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. He guides me to the loveseat, sits, and tugs me down beside him. He takes the Dr Pepper from me, twists off the top, and hands it back. “Drink some more. You’re shaking.”
I take a few more sips and hand it back. He always was bossy. He hasn’t changed. It’s one of the things I loved about him. He could figure out what my needs were and meet them without me saying a word. My needs included the fact that I might be thirsty or have low blood sugar, but they also included the desire to be dominated.
“So, you don’t have amnesia…” he says as he sets the Dr Pepper on the floor in front of him.
I shake my head. “No.”
He runs a hand through his hair, giving it that early-morning messy look I loved. It would certainly be tidier and easier if I could tell him I’ve had amnesia for three years. Easier to swallow.
“Dane… You, of all people, should have this figured out by now.”
He narrows his eyes. “I guess I’m a moron. You’re going to have to spell it out. You died in that bank robbery. I went to your funeral. I fucking lost it, Paige. I couldn’t even get out of bed or go to work or face my family and friends.”
I wipe the tears from my eyes, but they keep falling. “I’m so sorry.” It really hurts me to hear him say that. I knew we were close. I was in love with him. But we hadn’t said those words. We weren’t married or even engaged. I hadn’t been sure how serious we were. How serious he felt about us.
“Sorry?” His brows lift, and he smirks.
I sit up taller and lean closer. “Do you think I wanted to give up my entire fucking life that day? Do you think it’s been easy on me? I gave up my boyfriend, my friends, my father, and my fucking career. I had just graduated. I was about to start my dream job.” I’m shouting. I don’t care. It all needs to come out. It’s word vomit. Like a dam has opened and there’s no closing it.
He swallows.
I wipe my tears again. Fucking tears. I’ve cried more in the past three years than anyone should cry in a lifetime. “I have a master’s in computer science, Dane. Do you remember how much time I spent in front of my monitors? Do you remember how many computers I owned? Do you remember how excited I was to start my dream job working for the biggest credit card company in the world as a professional hacker?”
His face is stern. He’s breathing heavily.
“I haven’t touched a computer in three fucking years, Dane,” I scream. “Not once. I’m working for a fucking florist putting together fucking flower arrangements for fucking weddings and birthdays and goddamn anniversaries.”
He winces.
“Do you remember my boyfriend? He was this wonderful guy I met at a local club. We had so much in common. It seemed like a match made in heaven when he walked up to me one night and asked me to scene with him. Do you know how fucking right it felt when he spanked me that first night? It was like I’d found my home.” I’m shaking so violently, and I can’t stop—not the shaking nor the word vomit. It has to come out.
He swallows. His eyes are watery.
Suddenly, he slaps his forehead. The lights come on. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck.”
“You didn’t die.”
“Apparently.” Sarcasm oozes from me.
“You’ve been in witness protection.”
Finally. The man has found a working brain cell. I know he’s brilliant. But it sure has taken him long enough to figure out where I’ve been. He rubs his chin. Tears start to fall down his face. I’ve never seen Dane cry.
I scoot closer and reach up to wipe his cheek with my thumb. It feels so good to touch him.
Sobs tear out of him, and he grabs me with both hands and pulls me onto his lap. He hugs me so close that it hurts. I don’t care. His face is buried in my neck, and he cries.
I cry, too; so much pent-up emotion coming out of both of us. I wrap one arm around him and fist his shirt with the other. Questions race through my mind while he sobs against me.
Why is he dressed like this? He’s wearing dress pants, a starched white shirt, and a tie. I’ve never seen him so formal at a club. He looks like he came from his office. Maybe he did.
My stomach clenches as I wonder if he’s married or has a serious girlfriend. Both are possible. Likely even. He’s thirty-five now.
What is he doing in Seattle? I never expected to run into a single soul I ever knew in Seattle. That’s why I moved here.
Dane finally pulls back and reaches over to grab a box of tissues from the end table. He hands a few to me and grabs several for himself. His face is red, and his eyes are bloodshot. I’m sure I look the same.
“Why?” he whispers.
I’m not sure what he’s asking. “Why what?”
“Why did you leave me? Why not take me with you?”
My breath hitches. I’m shocked. “You had a life. A job. Friends and family. I couldn’t ask you to give all that up. It didn’t seem fair or even reasonable. We… We weren’t married. We weren’t even engaged...” I swallow. “I wasn’t sure what we were or how serious you felt. I couldn’t take the risk of anyone knowing I was alive.”
He’s breathing heavily. His hands grip my hips. “You were my everything,” he murmurs. His jaw tightens as he closes his eyes. “I was going to ask you to marry me that night.”
I gasp. My eyes go wide. My heart races. My lips tremble, and the tears start again, falling hard. I sob again, sounding like a dying animal.
Dane tips his head back and lets a frustrated scream leave his lips.
“You…” I can’t form words. It’s so hard. “We… You never so much as told me you loved me.”
His pained face is killing me. He has more tears, too. He doesn’t even bother to wipe them away. “I was a fucking fool. I wanted to say those words so many times. They just never came out. I don’t think I ever heard my father say ‘I love you’ to anyone. Not even to my mother. But I’ve regretted not saying them to you for three years. I hated that you died without me telling you how fucking much I loved you.”
My heart hurts for all the loss. “I loved you, too, Dane,” I whisper. I still do. I never stopped .
He sets his forehead against mine. “Fuck.”
I ask the most pressing question. “Are you…married?”
He flinches. “No. Jesus, no. I’m still hung up on my dead girlfriend.”
I inhale sharply. My heart loosens. Could we possibly be able to… I can’t let myself think ahead like that. Nothing has changed. I can’t slide back into Dane’s life. It’s complicated. I’m fucking nervous about how many people are now aware his girlfriend came back from the dead. It’s not safe. Not for him or me.
His fingers tighten around my hips. “Are you ?”
“Am I what?”
“Married, baby. Are you married? Are you with someone?”
“No. I’ve never been with anyone else. I’m only marginally stable enough to live this giant, weird lie. Adding other people to it would have been too hard. I go to work and back to my apartment. I’m sort of friends with my boss, but I keep her and everyone else at arm’s length. I hate answering questions with lies.”
He stares at me. “Jesus. This is… I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t decide if I want to spank your ass until you can’t stop crying or fuck you clear into tomorrow.” His voice isn’t jovial. He’s serious.
I’m scared out of my mind when I say, “Could you do both?”
He rests his forehead against mine, inhaling deeply. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but no. I can’t do either. If I did, I would never be able to let you walk out of here.” He leans back a few inches, holding my gaze. “What the fuck am I saying? I can’t let you walk out of here no matter what.”
I slide my hands up his chest to his shoulders. “I have to be at work tomorrow morning.”
“Quit your job.”
I sigh. “I can’t do that, Dane. I can’t be here. Let alone be talking to you. You can’t see me again.” The words hurt. I don’t even believe them. They sound ridiculous. There’s no way I could walk out of here and not come back.
Dane’s eyes widen. “Not a fucking chance in hell, Paige.” His voice rises. He grabs my waist, lifts me off his lap, and stomps over to the king-sized bed on the other side of this odd studio apartment.
All the air whooshes from my lungs as he drops me onto my back on the bed. He climbs over me, straddling me. He’s breathing heavily.
“Shannon,” I murmur.
His face turns red.
“Dane, you have to call me Shannon. Erase Paige from your memory. She died.”
He shakes his head. “That’s too fucking weird. No one is in here but us. No one can hear us. I can’t fucking call you Shannon.”
I sigh. He’s right, and it would sound ridiculous coming from his lips.
“Do I have to cuff you to this bed, Paige? Because I will. I’ll fucking cuff you to me or the bathroom sink. If that’s what it takes, but you’re not fucking leaving.”
I lift my hands and set them on his chest. He’s so buff, much more so than he was three years ago. “Okay, calm down.”
“ Calm down ,” he shouts. “My girlfriend who died and left me broken in about a hundred different ways just walked into the club I belong to clear across the country from where she was killed , and you want me to fucking calm down?”
I lick my lips. “Okay, you’re right. But we have to talk this through. I can’t just not show up at work. I answer to a US Marshal, Dane. He keeps tabs on me. I’m not allowed to have any contact with anyone from my previous life. Never.”
“Things are about to change, baby. I won’t let you live apart from me any longer, and sometimes the FBI takes forever to solve a crime. Obviously. It’s been three years and you’re still in witness protection.”
“I have to remain in the program until they catch the man who robbed that bank and killed everyone. That could be forever.”
Dane stops breathing. His eyes widen. “Right. Of course. They need you to testify. If the asshole is found and brought to justice, you could have your life back.”
I sigh. “Yes. What’s left of it. People will freak out when they find out I’m alive.”
His brows lift. “Freak out? You think?”
“Yes.”
“But you could . You wouldn’t be running if that motherfucker was caught.”
“After the trial. After I testify. Yes. Even if they found him today, that would take at least a year.”
“What if you were hiding until then?”
I shrug. “I can’t just hide, Dane. Where would I hide?”
“At my place. I’ll fucking hide you. No one will ever fucking find you.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t work that way. Nobody can hide like that. What if it were years or a lifetime?”
“Then I’d be hiding you for that long,” he says as if his idea is simple.
I wish it were.