Sweetest Taboo (22 page)

Dallas sat on the edge of Jane's hospital bed, stroking her hair.

“I knew you'd rescue me.” A weak smile flickered on her lips. “You'll always protect me, right?”

“Always.” He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. “God, Jane, I was so afraid I was going to lose you.”

“Me, too.” She squeezed his hand, her grip weak. “He came through at the end, didn't he?”

“He loved you. He was a complete asshole, and I won't ever forgive him. But at least we know that he loved you.”

A tear spilled from her eye. “I'm sad he's dead. Even after everything he did, I'm still sad.” She glanced at her IV. “When can I leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. They want to make sure the drug she injected you with is completely out of your system. And let you rest.”

“I'm good with the resting part. I'm so tired.” She reached for his hand, then squeezed it. “But I'm ready to be home with you.”

“I know, baby. Me, too.”

“And Mom's doing okay?”

He looked away. Just a split second before his gaze returned to her face, but she noticed.

“What?” she demanded.

“It's not good. They didn't want to worry you when you were first admitted, but she's still unconscious.”

She shifted in the bed, as if to rise. “I need to go see her.”

“Jane, no. They want you to stay in bed. But I'll go. I'll tell her you're awake and that you say she has to recover. Okay?”

She nodded, her lips pressed tight together in an effort not to cry.

He bent over and kissed her forehead, trying not to cry himself. From worry about his mother. From relief about Jane. “I love you. I'll be back soon. Try to sleep some more.”

She nodded, but didn't close her eyes. When he turned back at the door, though, he saw how heavy her lids were.

He blew her a kiss and slid out the door—and found himself face-to-face with Bill.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Hello to you, too.”

“I promised her I'd go see our mother,” he said. “Will you at least give me an hour to do that before you haul me away?”

“I overheard you, and yes.”

Dallas drew in a breath, Bill's words as bracing as ice-cold water. One hour of freedom. One hour before he had to tell Jane about the deal he'd cut. One hour before he was back in a cell. Hell, his cell would probably be adjacent to Adele's, who'd been taken away in the chaotic aftermath of the takedown.

“You can have an hour,” Bill said, his voice bitter. “Apparently, you can even have forever.”

Dallas froze. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I got a call from a director at MI6 an hour ago. From what he tells me, Deliverance has been working with that organization for years now.”

“That's true,” Dallas said, unsure where Bill was going with this and how much he knew. The fact was that Quince hadn't wanted to leave MI6. So he'd worked out a deal with his agency. Only one man there knew about that deal, though, so the fact that Bill was now in the loop was more than a little odd.

“Yeah, well, that director is your goddamn guardian angel, because now the State Department is prohibiting any move to arrest—or even publicly acknowledge—Deliverance or its members. The word is that such an action would be very bad for relations between the US and the UK.”

“Really?” Dallas tried not to smile, but it was damn hard to stay stoic. “And you're not going to push the point?”

“I have a lot of friends on the Hill. A lot of powerful connections in the intelligence community and in various Senate oversight committees.”

A hint of worry ate at Dallas's good mood. “And?”

“And I thought about it,” Bill said. “Then I ruled it out.”

“Why?” Dallas asked, then immediately regretted the question. Better to just take the good news and run with it.

Bill had been standing ramrod straight, but now he slouched a little and shoved his hands into his pockets. “To be honest, Dallas, I'm not sure I know. Maybe it's because Deliverance has rescued more than its share of victims. Maybe it's because MI6 values the organization. Maybe it's because I'm just not up for a fight.”

He drew a deep breath. “Or maybe it's because I love Jane, and she loves you. More than that, she needs you.”

It was the last thing in the world Dallas expected Bill to say. “You're giving Deliverance a pass because of a woman?”

For the first time, Bill's smile seemed more than just polite. “No, I'm giving Deliverance a pass because the State Department told me to. But I'm not fighting that edict because of a woman. And don't look surprised, Dallas. You and I both know that you'd do exactly the same.”

“For Jane? Yeah. I'd do whatever it takes.”

“I know,” Bill said, and Dallas thought that maybe the guy who had once been Jane's husband wasn't a complete dick.

He held out his hand. “Thanks, Bill.”

Bill took it, his grip strong. “I'm going to go see Jane for a minute, okay?”

“Sure,” Dallas said, with only the slightest hint of lingering jealousy. “She'd like that.” And with that strange detente lingering in the air between them, Bill went into the room, and Dallas took off down the hall to check on Lisa.

Since she was in ICU, it took him about ten minutes to get there, and when he walked through her door, his relief at finally arriving immediately evaporated. His father was standing right there. Frankly, Dallas really wasn't in the mood.

He considered leaving, but his father turned, and his expression so mirrored every bit of fear and helplessness that had ripped through Dallas when he'd been terrified of losing Jane, that he couldn't walk away.

“No change,” his father said. “I keep telling her to come back, but there's just no change.”

Dallas drew closer, then stood at his father's side, his hand on Eli's shoulder. “She's strong, Dad. Give her time. She's in there. She's trying to heal.”

He hoped he was right—god, how he hoped he was right. But while he was trying to stay optimistic for his father, the doctors hadn't been able to give them much hope. She was alive, yes, but she hadn't regained consciousness, and if she didn't come around by morning, they were going to put her into a medically induced coma.

They said all the right words about how her vitals looked good and her labs looked good, and yet they couldn't promise that it would turn out okay, and that deep hole of uncertainty terrified Dallas as much as it broke his heart.

“You should try to get some sleep, Dad.”

“I can't go home. I can't leave her.”

“I know. I get that. I can ask the nurse if they can bring in a cot.” Because they were in ICU, Lisa wasn't in a full-blown room with amenities. Just a small, glassed-in area lined with privacy curtains. “If they can't, maybe I can find something for you.”

Eli's brow furrowed, and then he turned to Dallas. “Thank you, son.”

A lump formed in Dallas's throat, and he tried to swallow it. “Listen, Dad, about everything. We're not going to agree, I know that. But—well, what I said before. About us both wishing I wasn't your son. You know I didn't—”

“My brother was a complete fuckup,” Eli said, his harsh interruption so surprising that Dallas simply stared. “Totally useless. You know it. And I know it. And although you may have his blood, Dallas, that's not who you are.”

He turned a bit so that he was facing Dallas directly, and there was something on his face that Dallas wasn't sure he recognized. Something he thought just might be respect.

“What you've survived. The man you've become. I watched the way you ran your personal life—a different woman in your bed each night. I kept expecting you to crash and burn. Drugs. Women. Money. Frivolity. All of it. Too much of it.”

Dallas had no idea where his father was going with this, but he stayed quiet. Waiting. Hopeful.

“I told you at your great-grandfather's birthday party that I was proud of you, and I meant it. And even later—when all the shit hit the fan with you and your sister—you never let your personal life spill over onto the business. You never truly went off the rails, and god knows you had reason to.”

He shook his head as if in disbelief. “Everything you went through as a young man. Who could have blamed you if you'd turned to drugs? Alcohol?”

“I have my share of issues,” Dallas said. “For that matter, so does Jane.”

Eli nodded. “I know. And I know I didn't help. That I didn't handle it well afterward. Frankly, it's a testament to your strength of character that you became the man you are.”

“Thank you,” Dallas said, and he meant it. But he still wasn't sure where his father was going with this. And all he could do was pray that somewhere at the end of this speech, his father was going to tell Dallas that he'd changed his mind. That he was going to rescind the adoption.

“And I'm proud that you're my son,” Eli continued, and with the inclusion of that one little word, hope faded. “Because you
are
my son. And Jane is my daughter. And nothing will ever change that.”

And there it was. The light snuffed out. Hope killed.

His family destroyed. Because Dallas wasn't going to sacrifice his and Jane's love at the altar of their father's pride. He'd hire his own attorneys. He'd fight the battle, but even though he was now an adult, without Eli's consent, the odds of the judge rescinding the adoption were slim. There just wasn't much precedent, and courts were loath to interfere with family relationships unless there was full consent on all sides.

And even if he won, the victory would be hollow by its very nature. Because whatever threads of family still remained would be completely and finally destroyed.

At the thought, Dallas's heart constricted. He wanted to shake Eli, to make him understand. He wanted to fight, dammit. But how did he fight perception and pride? How did he open his father's eyes?

Dallas drew a deep breath and hoped that when he spoke his voice wouldn't be stained by anger and disappointment. “I'm happy I'm not a disappointment to you, sir,” he said. “But maybe we'd all be better off if I was.”

Eli's brows rose, and then, unexpectedly, he burst out laughing. “Why? Because then I'd want to get rid of you? Not only cut you off financially, but trim your branch from the family tree?”

“Well, actually, yes.” Dallas frowned. Why the hell was that funny?

“You think I don't understand how you feel about Jane, and maybe you were right. Back then. But you're not right anymore.” He glanced toward Lisa, his chest rising and falling with a deep sigh. “I know what it's like to love someone. And I'm terrified that I'm going to know soon what it's like to lose them.”

He shifted, turning his face away as he roughly wiped his eyes. “I don't want my children to feel that way. Not ever.”

Slowly, he turned to face Dallas. “I'll file for the rescission. More than that, I'll hire the best goddamn attorneys on this planet to make it happen. And when it's over, I'll give her away to you at the altar. I'll do all that,” he said as Dallas fought his own tears, “but at the end of the day, you will still be my son. It just won't say so on a piece of paper. Deal?”

Tears welled in Dallas's eyes, and his throat was thick when he extended his hand to the man who would always be his one true dad. “Deal,” he said.

And as he turned to look at his mother once more, he thought that maybe—
maybe
—he saw a hint of a smile.

Christmas Eve…

I wake to the feather-soft sweetness of Dallas's kisses on my cheek, my neck, the curve of my shoulder. And down, and down, and down.

When his body is between my legs and his tongue teases my belly button, I slide my fingers into his hair.

“Well, good morning,” he says, peering up at me with heated eyes and an innocent grin. “Did I wake you?”

“Mmm. I was having the most wonderful dream. This incredibly sexy man was kissing my entire body. My face, my neck, my breasts. And then he went lower and lower, and his tongue was like magic. He held me down and just kept teasing and sucking until I thought I was going to burst into flames right in his arms.”

“I think I'm jealous,” he says. “Who was this guy?”

“Oh, just some man I'm going to marry.”

“Are you? Well, in that case I have a little present for the bride.”

I would answer him, but I can't because I'm gasping with pleasure from the way he's lowered his mouth to my pussy. The way he's sucking hard on my clit. He's holding my thighs wide apart, and I'm splayed out and exposed, and he's holding me so firm that I can't move or squirm or otherwise escape the assault.

I can do nothing but endure the wild pleasure of his relentless assault, and I tilt my head back, my hands fisted in the sheets as Dallas's tongue conducts a symphony on my body, his finger playing me like a fine instrument as well. It's too much—too wild, too intense—and I feel the shock of sensation building in me, starting as a low, electrical buzz in my inner thigh and then growing more and more vibrant until I lose all control over my body, and my hips are bucking and I'm crying out, calling Dallas's name and begging him to stop—then begging him to never, ever stop.

He tightens his grip on my legs and holds me in place, sucking and teasing and forcing me to ride it out until I'm so shattered that my entire body is shaking and I'm gasping for air.

“Wow,” I say as I come down off a sexual high. “My last orgasm as a single woman. That was amazing.”

“I'm all about the personal service.” He slides up my body and kisses me as I lay back in a blissful haze.

“Wow,” I repeat. “I could stay here all day.”

“You better not,” he says. “You're expected at a wedding in just a few hours.”

I prop myself up on my elbow. “It's bad luck to see a bride on her wedding day. I think you've just doomed us.”

“That's in her wedding dress. Good thing for us you're naked. But I am leaving. Dad and I are buying breakfast for the guys, then heading back here to get dressed. Mom's meeting you here in an hour, right?”

I glance at the clock, and then nod. “Stacey, too. Brody's dropping her off and then joining you.”

We're in the Meadow Lane house—the house in which I spent so much of my childhood. The house that is going to be ours again as soon as Dallas and I are married. Daddy's calling it a wedding present, but Mom tells me it's really just a token. “Your father's been in a present-buying mood lately,” she says. “It seems like every day he's taking me on a trip or buying me diamonds. I love it, but I really don't get it.”

I do. He almost lost her. And even though she's fully recovered, he doesn't ever want to take her for granted again. And with my dad, that translates to showering her with gifts.

Dallas and I have been the recipients of his largesse as well, and though Dad hasn't said so, we both know that it's his way of apologizing. I think the fact that the Manhattan townhouse has been restored to me was apology enough, but that doesn't mean I'll turn down anything else he wants to sign over to us.

Even though we have the townhouse back, I expect we'll be living primarily in the Hamptons. After all, Deliverance is set up again in the basement.

After a long discussion with the team, Dallas decided to bring our parents into the loop, and not only is Daddy proud of what Dallas is doing, but he's perfectly content to have his son back on the Sykes payroll, knowing full well the job is mostly camouflage.

I stay in bed for another half hour after Dallas leaves, too spent to move. Then I get up and shower and put on a fluffy robe before going into the third-floor den that has been set up as a dressing room. My mom and Stacey are there, along with a girl to do my hair and makeup. It seems a bit like overkill considering we've invited less than thirty people to our wedding. But at the same time, this wedding is an event that I never dreamed would happen, and I intend to celebrate the reality of it by going into full-on princess mode.

Once I'm primped and powdered and combed and brushed to within an inch of my life, I let the women help me get dressed, a process which gives me new understanding of why women needed ladies' maids back in the day. The top of the dress is essentially a beaded corset that cinches tight at my waist and perks up my breasts. It's elegant and shows off my cleavage and shoulders.

But it's the skirt that is the showstopper. Beautifully hand embroidered with a long, removable train, the skirt sits on a wide hoop, making my waist look even smaller and giving me an overall delicate look. A princess look.

I examine myself in the mirror and know that Dallas is going to love it.

“You look beautiful,” Mom says, coming up behind me. She sniffles and I hold up a hand.

“No! No crying or I'll start. And I can't. I'll smear my makeup.”

“Okay,” she says. “I'll cry when you're walking down the aisle.”

“Deal,” I say, as Stacey tells us that we need to hurry because they're ready for me.

The wedding is going to be performed in the main hall, which has been filled with flowers and temporary chairs, and we hurry to where I'm meeting my dad at the top of the stairs. We're descending together, and then proceeding down the aisle to where Dallas waits by the French doors, a stunning view of the pool behind him.

Daddy looks up as I approach, his eyes filled with such pride I almost tear up again.

“I'll tell you what I told Mom,” I say. “Don't make me cry.”

“No promises,” he says, then kisses me on the cheek. “You look beautiful. I'm so proud of you.”

We stand there alone—I didn't want attendants—and just as the first strains of music rise, my father turns to me. “You never did tell me what you want for Christmas tomorrow.”

It's so absurd that I laugh.

“Trust me, Daddy,” I say, “you already gave me and Dallas the best present of all.”

I hear our cue, and I take my father's arm.

And then I finally walk down the stairs and my father escorts me to Dallas, then gives me away to the man I've loved my whole life. The man who was once my brother.

The man who is my best friend.

And who, in just a few minutes, will be my husband.