Chapter Twenty-three
Sailor
In the hours since Noah left so abruptly, I had torn myself apart wondering where I went wrong.
Should I not have shared what I thought I knew?
What could I have done differently? Telling him my true identity sooner was never an option.
It was repeatedly drilled into me that no one should ever know.
But maybe he knew something I didn’t. He was shocked when I said I thought I knew the man in the picture, and it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Noah was in the mafia, and if the man was too, then it stood to reason that my father was also involved in organized crime.
I could lie to myself and pretend the family member was the only bad guy, and surely my dad never meant to get involved.
But I wasn’t that fucking na?ve.
No wonder their lives had been scrubbed from the internet. No wonder the marshal service had moved me upstate to a no-name town and given me a new identity. The only reason there was so much media coverage was because my parents were notorious criminals, and the frenzy had to die down somehow.
Accident, my ass. Clearly, they were killed for who they were; by whom was the big question. Lauder told me they weren't the intended targets, but I no longer believed anything she said. After I put two and two together, the answers were becoming a bit clearer, even if I didn't like them.
When Noah asked if he could come over, I almost told him no.
It would be entirely too easy to fall back into old patterns, pushing people away and locking my heart behind its rusted cage, but I wanted to see him.
I needed him to reassure me that everything would be okay and that I hadn't ruined anything by taking too long to tell him the truth.
And when he stood in my doorway, sadness in his eyes and defeat etched around his mouth, my heart ached to make it right again. Wordlessly, I leaned against him, soaking up his scent and warmth as I wrapped my arms around him. He hugged me back, squeezing just a bit too tightly.
“I’m sorry I ran out of here the way I did.” He stroked a hand over my hair. “I had to tell my dad we might know who that guy is so we could take steps to protect ourselves.”
“I should have told you about myself sooner.”
“No, you did the right thing. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”
“I’ve had to live with secrets almost my entire life.”
Keeping me pressed into his coat, he cupped the back of my head and cradled me like a child.
“Did you know my parents?”
There it was again; his body jerked violently. “Why would I know them?”
Stepping back, I went into the kitchen and pulled down my box of tea. Time for the hard truths, then. “Because you’re a mafia don, Noah, and if you’re looking for the man I recognized, who bears an uncanny resemblance to my dead father, then it stands to reason you might have known the Francos.”
“No, I did not know them.”
“Did you know of them?” I clarified.
He sounded so weary when he responded. “When you were ten, I was barely eighteen, and I wasn’t yet acquainted with any of my father’s associates.”
Setting the kettle on the stove, I asked, “Do you have the resources to help me find out who would have wanted them dead?”
Noah’s eyes slammed shut, and he massaged his temples. “Wouldn't it bring on more heartbreak to know?”
“I need the truth.”
“The only thing I can tell you is that none of us target wives. Not usually.”
His words sounded strangled, and I wondered if that had to do with his mother’s murder. “Someone killed your mother, too, though. Apparently, targeting wives is not that uncommon.”
His eyes welled up with tears, and I was instantly remorseful.
“I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me.”
“We share more than you think,” he whispered.
“Are we fixable?” I asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
The water boiled, steam rising from the spout, while I waited for his response.
“I want the same things I wanted this morning,” he finally said. “You by my side, a house of our own, and whatever happiness we can find in this life.”
Relief poured over me, and my muscles loosened. “That’s what I want, too.”
“I love you, Sailor, even though I never thought myself capable of feeling that way for anyone who wasn't flesh and blood.” Scrubbing roughly at his face, he added, “I get headaches every time my dad and I talk business, but you ease them just by being you.”
“After love, everything else is secondary.”
He nodded.
“I love you, too, Noah. I don't want to lose you.”
“You can’t.”
For years, I had been dying to feel love, yet knowing I wasn't capable of that much emotion. Knowing there was nobody out there in the world who would love all my quirks and idiosyncrasies.
Leave it to fate to hand me a criminal and tell me to love him unconditionally, complications and all, and let him do the same in return.
Instead of making my tea, I stood in the kitchen with Noah’s arms snugly around me. His breathing was uneven, and I had the feeling there was more to what had happened earlier than he was willing to tell me.
But I couldn't expect him to tell me all his secrets. I knew going in that there would be some things he’d keep from me, whether for my own good or for his family’s sake. That was the business.
And maybe I was na?ve after all if I hoped he could dig up information on the comings and goings of a different mafia family from two decades ago.
But that meant he and I had more in common than I’d thought.
As he’d said, girls didn't inherit the titles in the mafia world, so I never had a chance of being a don myself, but we had the same type of father.
We would have moved in the same circles if I hadn't been torn away from that life.
I probably wouldn't have become a doctor if my parents had lived.
Not just because their deaths were the catalyst for my need to save lives, but because I would have been on a different trajectory as the daughter of a don.
Maybe I would have been expected to marry into another family.
Maybe I would even have been arranged to Noah for the sake of brokering peace.
“In an alternate reality, maybe our parents would have matched us together.”
He snorted. “Even though I’m eight years older than you?”
“Age gaps happen all the time, don’t they?”
“Some families don’t do arranged marriages. My parents didn't want to.”
“Lucky for me, or you'd have ended up with someone else.”
“Lucky for me, too,” he said into my hair.
Perhaps we really would be okay. “I don’t think I want tea anymore. I just want to go to bed.”
“That sounds good to me.”
It had gotten late, and I felt exhaustion overtake me as we climbed into my bed. Noah scooted up until he spooned me, and I felt myself drift off.
But when I dreamed, it was of the hideous monster I’d once pictured Noah to be, with the waving arms, the red eyes, and the gun in his hand.
He aimed it at me, and I tried to run. His finger eased toward the trigger, but instead of turning to fire behind him as he had in my first dream, he shot at me until the magazine emptied.
I sat up abruptly, my heart galloping in my chest and my hair matted to my sweaty face. Noah continued sleeping, oblivious to my nightmare. Apparently, my subconscious was trying to tell me something, I just didn't know what it was.
Trying to settle back down, I lowered myself slowly, hoping not to disturb him.
I had learned to live with the way my scars hurt, but I had done a terrible job with the healing.
Only once someone came along who was capable of stitching me back up did I feel a sense of closure.
Why couldn't I just have my happily-ever-after?
Why did there have to be so many obstacles thrown in my way?
I wanted to prove to Noah that I was still committed. Part of me begged to let him sleep, to not bother him at such a late hour.
But my need for him won out, and I ran my hand over his bare shoulder. He stirred, his eyes remaining closed, and I peeled back the sheet. Too bad we hadn't gone to bed naked, but I could make it work.
Shifting down, I lightly scratched my fingernails over his abs, and they clenched.
“Sailor,” he mumbled, tangling his hands in my hair.
God, his sleep-roughened voice rasping my name turned me on even more.
“You could go back to sleep,” I whispered, tracing the outline of his cock beneath his boxer briefs.
“Not a chance.”
He lifted his hips, and I slid his underwear free so I could do what I wanted.
So far, he hadn't asked me for this, but I’d thought about it a few times.
Closing my hand fully around his shaft, I bent my head to swirl my tongue over the head.
He sucked air through his teeth, his legs moving restlessly between us.
With a bit of hesitation, I opened my mouth and sank over him, feeling him swell as I did.
Noah cursed, and I smiled to myself. Every sound from him made my lust go higher, and I swallowed him deeper. Backing off when I gagged, I swallowed and sank back over him, hoping I was doing it right.
“God, Sailor, please come here.”
He reached for me, and I went willingly.
Instead of the gentleness I expected from a man half asleep, he shoved me to my back and impaled me, holding his arms rigidly beside me as he thrust deeper and deeper, until I felt the bed shaking and my heart galloping in rhythm.
His muscles strained with the effort to hold himself up, and I clutched his shoulders until my fingernails dug into his skin.
Noah moved frantically, and I encouraged each silky slide of his cock inside my body as the coil built.
When I came, I let myself be loud. I truly let go, calling out loudly so he would always know what he did to me.
I panted his name as he kept going, as my orgasm tried to settle, but he was still pumping.
His hips faltered, and he leaned down to rest his forehead on mine when he came.
Finally, he lowered his weight on top of me, and I welcomed the solid feel of it.
He pushed my sweaty hair off my face, kissing my forehead, my mouth, my chin. “For something you’ve never done before, that was mind-boggling.”
I nearly giggled before I stopped myself. “Good.”
Resting beside me, Noah pulled me close as he tried to catch his breath. “What made you want to do that in the middle of the night?”
“We haven't done it yet.” Shrugging, I said, “And I was awake, looking at your handsome face as you slept peacefully in my bed.”
“Whatever your reasoning, I’m thankful for it.”
Tracing my fingers over his chest, I listened to the sound of his heartbeat and tried to memorize it. I didn't think I had to use sex to keep him by my side, but the need to reconnect to him had been overwhelming.
Squirming out of his arms, I got up and went to the bathroom, taking off the mess he’d made of my panties. My face was still flushed, my hair a chaotic mess. My heart had settled, both from the erratic pumping and from the uncertainty of our future.
When I returned to bed, Noah was sitting up, doing something on his phone. He looked up as I approached, setting his phone on my nightstand and smiling at me.
“Only sweet dreams tonight.”
Biting my lip, I considered telling him about my most recent nightmare. Unfortunately, it painted him in a horrible light, and that didn't feel fair. Noah would never aim a gun at me, much less pull the trigger. He wasn't a monster.
“I’ll do my best,” I responded, climbing up beside him.
I leaned back against his chest, and he scooted down until we were curled up together. Closing my eyes, I tried to think happy thoughts so I would only dream of the good things.
It must have worked, because I saw a big house with an enormous yard, children running barefoot through the grass, and a puppy tumbling along beside them.
A little boy with Noah’s dark hair and eyes smiled up at me, and my soul felt complete.
The girl, who could be my identical twin, raced up to us and threw her arms around my legs.
The dog barked, jumping around our feet and falling over to expose its belly.
As I crouched to pet it, Noah came out the back door with platters of food in his hands.
An idyllic future, one I’d be fortunate to have. Clear skies, smiling faces, and so much love in my heart it overflowed.
Why, then, did I awake with my stomach in my throat, nausea rolling over me?
Was it because I knew I’d never see that future in real time, but only in my dreams?
Such beauty wasn't meant for people like me and Noah, a fact I had to reconcile with my brain.
We might get a tenth of that image, or we might get nothing.
Either way, I’d have to learn to live with what I was given.