27

MARGO

I rolled over, opened my eyes, and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling.

It didn’t have the usual cracks like the ceiling in my tiny apartment. It wasn’t even the same color.

Then it came back in waves. The kidnapping. The cabin in the woods. That was enough to make my head ache, but then a nagging voice in the back of my mind was telling me that there was more.

Oh god. I’d talked to Seth. I’d found out that my mother had lied to me. About everything. And that my biological father had run off a man who might have potentially stood by our side.

“Margo?”

Though the low voice was gentle, I bolted up right in bed, clutching the sheets around me. Rocello was sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, watching me.

I stared at him for a long moment and let my head fall back on the pillow. There was no way I was ready to face all of this.

“More sleep is not going to make all your problems go away.”

Propping my head up on my elbow, I glared at him. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He was wearing a light blue t-shirt and black jeans. Both were tight enough to showcase his impressive muscles.

“Reading my mind.”

He chuckled. “I’ll do my best.”

I sighed. “Is it your day to babysit me?” From the light coming in from the blinds, I figured it was morning. I’d slept at least twelve hours since Slade and I got back, but I didn’t feel rested.

“Yep.”

“You could have done that from out there.” I gestured toward the main room of the cabin. “There’s no way for me to escape from here.”

I thought he might laugh again, but he didn’t. “I just figured you maybe needed someone to watch over you,” he said. “If that seems creepy, then—”

“It doesn’t,” I interrupted in a low voice. It actually sounded kind of nice.

“Do you want to talk about yesterday?” It was clear from his question that Slade had filled him in on what happened.

“No.” I sighed. “Yes.”

“Let me know when you decide.”

Stretching out flat on the bed, I stared at the ceiling. “I kind of think maybe I need to—even if I don’t want to.”

“I can understand that.” There was a creak from his chair and then footsteps. His face appeared above me.

Without prior thought, I scooted to the side, patting the bed next to me. Looking surprised, he sat on the edge, but that wasn’t what I wanted.

Shoving a pillow at him, I slid over some more, giving him room. “I can’t talk about it while you’re looking at me.”

He grunted, kicking off his shoes. Then he stretched out next to me, making the whole bed shake. “Never thought you’d invite me into your bed.”

If Slade had said those words, maybe Jumaine, too, they would’ve been a come-on. But I didn’t get the sense that Rock was in that kind of mood today. He’d had a shock, too. Just like I’d learned some new and disturbing things about my mom, he’d learned some things about Emilio.

“What was he like?” I asked.

“Who?”

“My… your… Emilio. What was he like?”

Rocello sighed. “I’m not sure I know anymore.”

“I feel that way about my mom. But tell me a good time you remember.”

There was silence, and I could practically hear the big man next to me sorting through his thoughts. “He taught me to play football.”

That surprised me. “American football? Or soccer?”

Rock rolled onto his side to watch me, then he caught himself. “Sorry, you said you couldn’t talk if I looked at him.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Tell me about the football.”

“He liked soccer best—most Italians do. But when he moved here, he got into American football. Went to the games. Learned how to throw the ball. And he taught me.”

“Did you ever play on a team?” With his size, he probably would’ve been good at it.

“No. I’d dropped out of school by that point, but sometimes we’d get a game going in the park. It sounds dumb, but it was the first time anyone had done anything… fatherly with me. I mean, how many movies have a scene where the father plays catch with the son?”

“Field of Dreams.” It was the first thing that came to mind, but then I couldn’t think of any more. There were probably lots, though.

“I never had that in foster care. Either the fathers of the family weren’t around, or they just didn’t care. Or they were scared of me,” he added bitterly.

My hand snaked out, reaching for his. “It was their loss.”

“And mine,” he said plainly. “Neither one of us had the childhood we deserved, did we? That’s why I’m trying so hard to make sure Thomas has a good one.”

The anguish on his face tore at me. “Where is Thomas?”

Rock looked away. “He’s safe.”

“Tell me.” My instincts told me that this was something Rock needed to talk about more than his old father figure.

“I dropped him off at his grandparents’ house.” Rock’s voice was barely a whisper, and the tone suggested he was confessing to something horrible.

“He has grandparents?” That didn’t make any sense given that Rocello had been raised in foster care.

“His mom’s parents. She doesn’t want anything to do with him, but they’ve kept in touch. They send him gifts for his birthday and Christmas.”

“Had he met them before?”

“A few times.”

His face was so anguished that I reached up to stroke it. The stubble along his jawline scratched my fingertip. “He’ll be safe there, won’t he?”

“Yes.” He took my hand again, holding it in his. “They’re rich. Got a big old mansion in Rhode Island. Gated and all. He’ll be safe.”

My heart went out to him, even though I didn’t quite see the issue. “He’ll be okay there, right? I mean, it’s not forever.” Even as I said this, I realized I didn’t know the endgame here. Surely we wouldn’t have to stay on the run forever?

“He will.” Rock’s voice was barely a whisper. Then he looked me in the eyes. “But what if they want to keep him?”

Understanding hit me and I moved closer, my leg touching his. “He’s your son. They can’t do that.”

He shook his head. “If they sought custody—what judge would ever look at them and look at me and not rule against me?”

“A judge who’s seen how good you are with him.”

The look in his eyes made him seem older than he was. “Look at my lifestyle, Margo. It’s no good for a child. If I really loved Thomas, I would have sent him to live with them years ago.”

A tear slipped down my cheeks. His pain was just so raw. “You’ve made a good life together. You’ve done the best you could.”

He shook his head again. “Sometimes that’s not good enough.”

“Yes, it is.” I closed the distance between us, and his arm went around me. Desperate to stop the sad words pouring from his mouth, I pressed my lips against his. He was unmoving at first, but finally, he pulled me closer and kissed me back. He needed comfort, not blame and shame, right now.

Reaching out, I rubbed his massive bicep as I burrowed against him. I needed comfort just as much as he did. He cradled me against his chest as his mouth moved on mine. There was something so damn enticing being held by him. He made me feel tiny, and I was a fairly petite woman to begin with.

But it was more than that. He made me feel safe—as if nothing could ever harm me while I was in his arms. It was an amazing feeling.

Rock nudged me forward, and I rolled onto my back while he leaned over me. His hand rested lightly on my stomach as he continued to claim my mouth with his own. His palm was so large, his fingers played. Warmth radiated from his skin.

And suddenly, I wanted to feel his skin on mine. I reached between us and tugged my t-shirt up. Desire filled me as his hand rested on the bare skin of my stomach. He groaned, his calloused thumb rubbing along my smooth skin.

Then his hand slid upward. I moaned when his fingertips brushed the underside of my breasts. Then he cupped my entire breast in his hand, the sudden warmth making me gasp.

I arched my back, pressing against his hand.

“You like that?” Rock whispered against my mouth.

“God, yes.”

He tugged at my shirt, and I pulled it up over my head, baring myself to him.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he said as he stared at me. Then his fingers captured my nipple and I groaned.

The nipple he wasn’t rubbing felt cold, but he remedied that pretty quickly. He dipped his head and lapped at it, his big tongue engulfing it.

It felt amazing. So damn good. And it wasn’t just the sensations, either. It was him. I wanted him. So badly.

But then there was that damn nagging voice in the back of my head. And no matter how the things Rock was doing felt, that voice just wouldn’t shut up.