Edge of the Heat 7 (16 page)

"You remember it now?" Jerry said, his jaw clenching in anger at the man who would so abuse a doctor-patient relationship.

"Some of it. But now I can tell it's his voice telling me those things, and not something coming from inside me."

"Sara, that's not you anymore. You never did anything out of revenge or spite or to play out some sick fantasy or illness. You were doing a job, trying to make the world a better place, trying to help people who couldn't help themselves."

"He was right about one thing, Jerry. I am still a killer. I can never bring back all those people I killed. That will always be a part of who I am. My past. And if the circumstances were exactly right, I would do it again. If I had to. If you were in danger, for example."

Jerry stared into her eyes, willing her to understand. "Wouldn't we all, Sara? That's part of the human condition. There is nothing wrong with you."

Sara's eyes showed she didn't believe him. Jerry felt his heart breaking again. He had to convince her! His gaze hopped around the house, trying to think of a touchstone that would convince her she deserved this life. He snatched up her purse and pulled out her pocketbook. He rifled through it until he found what he wanted.

He thrust a picture into her hands. "You're not a killer, Sara. You're a savior, a rescuer. How many people would be dead or living in Hell if it weren't for you?"

He tapped the picture she was holding. "Do you think they would be dead?" he asked viciously, wanting her to really think about it. The picture showed a young woman with a baby on her lap. They were in a park, and in front of them was a cake with a large candle in the shape of the number one on it. The woman's head was thrown back as she laughed merrily at something. The plump and beautiful baby was watching the woman, one sticky, cake-covered hand shoved in her mouth. "You saved Jessica and Zoey. If it weren't for you they'd either still be living on the streets, or they'd be in a ditch somewhere. But because of you they have a life! Jessica has her GED. She starts college in a month. College at seventeen! She says she's going to be a doctor. She could be the woman who cures cancer but she never would have gotten that chance if it weren't for you."

Sara's eyes were misting again. Her thumb ran over baby Zoey's sweet face. Jerry thrust another picture at her. It showed another young woman with dark hair and dark eyes, holding up citizen papers next to an older woman and a young girl. They all had wide, happy smiles on their faces. "And Tira? Would she be dead out in the desert somewhere if you hadn't brought her to America? You didn't have to do that. You could have saved JT and Dani without insisting that the president give her and her entire family asylum. You saved them too, Sara. Do I need to go on?"

Sara shook her head minutely, but her eyes were softer, less sure of her wrongness. Her chin quivered and Jerry could tell she had more bottled up inside. She took several deep breaths and finally said it, pain spilling out of her expression. "I keep waiting for you to come to your senses and leave me."

Jerry stood. "I'll show you how much I want to
come to my senses
, as you put it." He ran into his study, leaving her staring after him. The time had finally come. He would never let her think that again. He rummaged through the bottom drawer on his desk, underneath his papers and high school mementoes, snatched up the tiny, dark box, and ran back to the living room, his heart beating in anticipation.

Jerry dropped to one knee in front of Sara and opened the box so she could see the white gold, diamond-inset, swirling-shank, engagement ring he'd bought for her. "I bought this six months ago but never gave it to you because the time never seemed right. Sometimes you hold me at a distance and I always thought that was your way of saying
don't ask me yet
. But I'm asking now. Sara, will you marry me? I love you and I can't live without you. Please don't ever think I'm going to leave you. I love everything about you, including your past, and I can't wait to be a part of our future."

Sara's dark eyes flashed and one more time Jerry saw her cry. Tears slipped down her face, running a path to her chin and dripping slowly off. Her face stayed calm, stoic even, until finally she spoke. "I will." With those two words her composure crumbled and she fell on his neck, sobbing.

Jerry held her until the tears subsided, then he quietly plucked the ring out of its box and slipped it on her finger.

Sara gazed at it, her expression soft and open. "It's beautiful."

"So are you," Jerry told her, taking her hand and bringing it gently to his lips.

"Let's do it," Sara said in a breathless whisper.

"Pick a date."

"No, I mean let's do it right now." Sara threw her arms around his neck and he saw new excitement in her eyes that hadn't been there in a long time. She wiped her tears away and when they were gone, new hope bloomed there. "I want to be married before the baby is born. I want to be married to you right now."

Jerry studied her, not wanting to discourage this for one second, amazed that he had said all the right things. But it was late. "Sara, it's evening. No one is going to marry us right now."

"We could fly to Vegas."

"Our friends..."

"I know you want your friends to be there. We can do it again, here in Westwood Harbor. Plan a huge party. But I'm serious that I don't want to go one more hour without being your wife."

Jerry thought hard. It appealed to him. They could fly down and get the piece of paper, then fly back. If it made Sara happy ...

Sara's eyes sparkled. "It would be perfect. Vegas is where we fell in love."

Jerry scoffed. "I fell in love with you here in Westwood Harbor, long before we met again in Vegas."

Sara stared deep into his eyes. "You're such a sweet man, Jerry. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"You were born," he said, then kissed her long and hard, his plans set on Vegas, his heart light and happy.

Emma woke up all at once, blinking at the daylight streaming through her window. She looked at the clock. 3:34. Not in the morning though, so she'd slept all night and most of the day too. She shifted in bed, wondering why no one had woken her. Craig lay next to her, his back to her, a sheet wadded over his body but barely covering him. That's why. They had both slept all night and all day.

Emma's eyes traveled over her husband's form, resting on his splinted arm. He had insisted it barely hurt, and he had good strength and range of motion in that hand, but still she was taking him to get X-rays today, no matter what. Her gaze left his arm and traveled over his back, noting each one of his muscles and she felt arousal build inside her. She would let him sleep for at least a few more moments.

She relaxed on the bed as bits and pieces of the day before came back to her. Troy's horrible final act. Believing she was dead—beyond saving. Craig breaking in to save her. The subsequent fire that destroyed the entire mansion and left a gaping hole in the ground. The police arriving and asking them questions for hours before they could finally go home. To Emma, the hole in the ground reminded her of the hole from Vivian and Hawk's house fire. She thought it was fitting that Troy had died that way, although she still didn't know if he'd been trying to kill himself or if he'd been trying to shoot at her while still being woozy from fainting. She'd never know. He was gone.

Craig stirred just a tiny bit next to her and she hopped lightly out of bed, wanting to start her morning (afternoon) right, but needing to take care of some business first. She ran to the bathroom and freshened up as quickly as possible, then hopped back into bed next to Craig, spooning his back. She tiptoed her fingers around his front and laughed out loud when her hand found thick, hard erection. Had he been dreaming?

She took him in her hand and squeezed. "I always knew you'd find me," she told him.

Craig turned in the bed and in a moment, he was on top of her, deliciously towering over her, his dimples putting in an appearance as he smiled at her.

"Damn right. I will always find you. But you better not ever do that again," he growled, dropping onto one elbow to nuzzle her neck. His other arm was still splinted, and he held it next to her body.

"I can't control the nutcases," she told him, opening her neck to him, opening her entire self to him, her eyes drifting closed.

"You could listen to me when I tell you things," he said, trailing his kisses down to her chest, where a tiny, sleep t-shirt covered her breasts.

"I could..." Emma told him, gasping as he mouthed first one nipple through the material, then the other one.

"But you won't," he finished. "Emma," he growled.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll listen to you here, in the bedroom. I'll do whatever you tell me, I swear it."

"Damn right you will," Craig rasped, his splinted arm traveling lower, that hand pushing her panties aside, and thrusting two fingers into her—hard.

Emma gasped and threw her head back.

"God, Emma, if I'd lost you, I would have died," he told her, bringing her back to reality. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was staring at her, the intensity of his gaze setting her on fire.

"You didn't lose me," she told him softly, her eyes locked on his.

Craig continued staring deeply into her eyes, while his knees nudged her legs far apart. With a grunt, he tore her panties down the center, ripped them off of her, and threw them on the ground. Without taking his eyes off hers, he grasped himself in his hand and guided his cock to her entrance, entering her with one forceful thrust. Emma gasped and cried out lightly, but never looked away. The connection with her husband was enormous, exorbitant, deeper than she'd ever felt it. She was mesmerized by him, by his strength of will and the desire of ages written on his soul.

Craig began to thrust into her, finding that rhythm they knew so well, wringing every bit of pleasure out of her. Emma met his tempo eagerly with her hips. She felt his love wash over her, covering her, consuming her. He'd saved her with pure will and strength, and a little help from his friends. He'd been her hero again and again and she would never forget it.

Emma felt her release building and she was almost sad. She wanted this to go on forever. Wanted to never let him out of their bed. But he took her there relentlessly, knowing exactly how to move and ply her to make her go off like a rocket.

Their eyes still locked on each other, Emma allowed her body to go where it wanted to go. Her peaks built upon each other until she was panting with the sheer bliss of it, her hands running along her husband's chest and abs, her soul co-mingling with Craig's.

The connection became too much, and still she stared into his eyes, letting his love fill her and overflow. Thick tendrils of pleasure pulsed out of her core and she cried out as her orgasm slammed into her, taking her to that place that only Craig could bring her back from.

Craig's thrusts grew harder, deeper, and he made a low growling sound deep in his throat. She felt him spill inside her as their two selves became one for a heavy, hot moment.

Then it was over. For now. Never breaking eye contact, Craig moved to the side of her and laid his head on the pillow. Emma turned her head, not wanting to break the connection.

"I love you," he finally said, his breathing quieting.

"I love you, too," she whispered.

They laid that way for a long time, sharing everything that was theirs to give.

***

A knock sounded at the door, causing Emma to finally break the lingering connection. She pulled the blanket over both of them. "Come in," she called, sitting up in the bed.

Vivian poked her head in, then entered with a tray in her hands, beaming at Emma. "Lunch in bed for both of you!" she cried. "I would have made you breakfast but you slept through it."

Craig sat up and rubbed his hands together. "Perfect! What are we having?"

"Monte Cristo sandwiches with fries."

Vivian put the tray down and gave her sister a hug, then backed away. "Sorry if it's a little cold, I wanted to bring it twenty minutes ago but you were, uh, still sleeping."

Hawk's words drifted in from the living room. "Don't lie, Viv! You said they were having sex."

Vivian colored and left the room quickly. "Hawk!" she yelled.

Emma laughed and picked up her sandwich. Vivian poked her head back into the room, her cheeks still red. "Come out soon, OK, I miss you."

"I will, Viv."

Emma took a bite. Heavenly. Craig had already finished his sandwich and was working on his fries. Emma watched him eat, then thought of something. "Why were you late that day, anyway?"

Craig stopped with a fry halfway to his mouth. "Aww, babe, I'm sorry. I forgot all about that. You're not going to want to hear this."

Emma's appetite vanished.

Craig turned to her, regret in his eyes. Emma listened hard as he explained every awful detail. Emma cried a little for her friend, West, unable to believe what she had just heard.

When he was finally done, she stared at him. When he didn't speak again, Emma challenged him. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"Emma, what can I do? This goes beyond anything I've ever dealt with. It goes so high up I'd be fired for even poking my nose in there."

Emma stared at her husband hard for a long time. He looked away and poked at his french fries. "Craig Masterson, I'm surprised at you. You're the hero, you've always been the hero, and I've never known a situation that needed a hero more than this one. If you don't help those people, who will?"

"Yeah, well, I was a little busy saving someone else," he muttered, his eyes still on his fries.

He looked back up at Emma finally, a decision brewing behind his gaze. "It could take years Emma, and put us in a lot of danger."

"Yeah, well, what else is new?"

"What about our baby plan?"

Sorrow peaked in Emma's heart like a flower opening upside down. She did want to have babies. But she wanted to have them in a country that was safe to live in. In a country that she could be proud of.