‘That’s kind of her.’ He hesitated a few beats. ‘We told him. When he was eighteen. We told him that we’d adopted him. We told him what we knew about his birth mother. His reaction was . . . typically Aidan. He’s a stoic kid. Keeps his emotions close to the vest.’
‘Like his mother,’ Thorne said softly. ‘Look. Gwyn suffered a terrible trauma four years ago. It was the knowledge that Aidan was turning eighteen soon that helped her find her way back to who she’d been before.’
‘I know about that. I keep up with her too. In the news, I mean. My wife and I were so glad to read that she was all right after that attack.’
She wasn’t all right, Thorne thought. She’s not totally all right even now. But she will be. He’d make sure of it.
‘I’m not telling you this so that you feel pressured either. I just want you to know that Aidan continues to be important to her. If he ever chooses to meet her, she’ll be ready. For now, it’s important that he’s kept safe.’
‘Thank you. Can I reach you at this number? The one you called me from?’
‘For now, yes. It’s a temporary line. You can also reach me through Agent Carter.’
‘Thank you for calling. I hope you work through all this soon.’
‘So do I.’
Twenty-five
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 10.35 P.M.
Thorne checked his phone for the thirtieth time in fifteen minutes. Gwyn hadn’t come back from her water-getting expedition and she should have. He’d gotten up to go find her several times, but forced himself to sit. She’d needed space. He’d give her space.
But he was worried. They were in a locked house with better security than Fort Knox, and she hadn’t been out of his sight long enough to take a really long shower. But he was losing his mind. Was that what they were going to be reduced to? Traveling in groups? Sleeping in the same house? Sequestering the moms and children hundreds of miles away?
Yeah. Apparently they were. Nobody can sustain this. Tavilla knows this. His son went to prison and he’s put us in prison.
Had the tables been turned, it would have been poetic justice. But this was hell.
So stop whining and make him stop. But first, find her. Ease your mind.
Clay’s downstairs was eerily quiet, the toys in the playroom stacked and abandoned. ‘Gwyn?’ he called, but there was no answer. He jogged up the stairs and stopped short. She was sitting at the kitchen table with Clay and Jamie, the latter stroking her hair as she hugged her enormous dog and cried into his neck. Tweety actually looked sad. Both Clay and Jamie wore expressions of pity.
Thorne’s heart threatened to break all over again.
Clay pointed to a stack of T-shirts and jeans. ‘I found some of Stevie’s pre-baby clothes. They’re more likely to fit Gwyn now.’ He winced. ‘Don’t tell her I said “pre-baby”. She’ll hurt me.’
Gwyn choked on a laugh that sounded more like a sob. ‘Yeah, she will,’ she said, but didn’t lift her head.
Jamie shot Thorne a helpless look. ‘I think it just hit her that she’s lost about everything in her apartment.’
No, that wasn’t it. She wasn’t crying over the loss of her things. But Thorne wasn’t going to tell them the truth. Aidan – having him, losing him, being afraid for his safety, mourning that he’d turned eighteen and hadn’t contacted her . . . All that was Gwyn’s story to tell, if and when she decided to do so.
‘Hey,’ he murmured, crouching down beside her and pushing the dog away when a wet tongue came out to lick his face. ‘You’re exhausted. Let’s get some sleep. All of us. We have work to do tomorrow. Tavilla has had us on the run. Now it’s time to make him run.’
‘Straight to fucking hell,’ Clay muttered.
‘I’d drink to that,’ Jamie said grimly.
‘How?’ Gwyn asked, her face still hidden in Tweety’s fur.
‘By attacking the people he cares about. We know of two women – our office manager and our bartender. They were in that photo from last summer, taken at that Italian restaurant, Bruno’s.’
‘Where he still hangs out,’ Jamie said.
Thorne nodded. ‘I imagine the police have the place under surveillance. We know he has offices. Anne was a really good office manager.’
Gwyn snorted her derision. ‘Bullshit.’
Jamie smiled. ‘She’s an evil bitch from hell, but I’m going to agree with Thorne on this one. That woman had an amazing filing system, and she never missed a birthday. Maybe she does office management for Tavilla too.’
Gwyn lifted her head. Her face was tear-streaked, but she was still the most beautiful woman Thorne had ever seen. ‘You could have something there.’
‘There was a child in Laura’s social media,’ Thorne went on. ‘Or Bianca or Kathryn or whoever she is. It may not have been hers, but it belonged to someone. Babies get colds, get shots, need pediatricians. We start there and see where it takes us. The point is, we have options. Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll plan tomorrow.’
‘Okay.’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, then grabbed the stack of clothing. ‘Thanks for the clothes, Clay. And I won’t tell Stevie what you said, because your son would be in kindergarten before you got laid again.’
Clay made a face. ‘Thank you.’
She smiled at him. ‘You’re welcome. Come on, Tweety.’ She waited until they were back in the guest room before turning to Thorne. ‘Did you reach them?’
‘I did. His father thanked me for the warning, and said he would keep him safe.’
She hesitated. ‘They’ve told him, haven’t they? They told him and he doesn’t want to meet me.’
‘Give the kid some time,’ Thorne said, dodging the actual answer. ‘Come here.’ He led her to the bed and began unbuttoning her blouse. ‘I’m going to put you to bed and give you a massage, and you’re going to sleep.’
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Thursday 16 June, 1.10 A.M.
Gwyn woke in a strange bed, but she wasn’t afraid because she knew before she’d opened her eyes that she was with Thorne. He held her half sprawled over his body like he was an oversized pillow. Her head rested on his chest, his arm was around her shoulders, his hand firmly gripping her butt. One of her legs was lodged between his powerful thighs, and when she tried to move, he rumbled out a warning.
‘Watch the knee, babe.’
Because she was only inches away from his groin. And his very erect cock. She slid one hand down until she could grab it. His rumble became a moan.
Tipping back her head, she kissed the underside of his jaw and wondered how long she’d been asleep. ‘Did you sleep?’
‘No,’ he murmured. ‘Just holding you.’
She rolled her shoulders experimentally, feeling no pain. ‘That was some massage.’
‘That was the plan,’ he said. ‘To make you feel better.’
She’d fallen asleep minutes into it, so there had been no mutual pleasuring. No satisfaction.
That was going to change. ‘You know what I really liked?’
‘The part where you melted into the mattress when I rubbed your shoulders?’
‘Of course that. But I was thinking about Tuesday. In my bed.’
‘Mmm.’ He played with her hair. ‘Which time?’
‘All of them. But mostly when I was on my back and I could see your face the whole time.’ She could hear his heart starting to beat a little faster. ‘I was hoping we could do that again. Maybe soon? Like now?’
The next thing she knew, she was on her back and he was sliding down her body, lifting her legs over his shoulders, licking into her. She moaned quietly, not because she worried about anyone hearing her, but because the moment seemed too important, too sacred, for loud shouts and grunts and pleas for more.
‘Thorne,’ she whispered.
He lifted his head. ‘What do you need?’ he whispered back. ‘Name it.’
She brushed his hair with her fingertips. ‘Just you. Only you.’
He kissed the inside of her thigh, a soft brush of his lips. Then he was licking again, so gently, a luxurious lapping that stirred her, but not to a frenzy. Not yet.
She stretched like a cat, gripping the brass bars of the headboard, crying out when he worked two big fingers into her.
‘All right?’ he murmured.
She undulated her hips, grinding down on his fingers. ‘Yes. Feels good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.’