Witness (22 page)

Deborah's breasts rose and fell with her labored breathing. She stared Ashe right in the eye, her gaze hard, her lips trembling, her cheeks flushed. “Then I suppose what I smell on you is some sort of new aftershave.”

Ashe leaned down, touching her lips with his. When she turned her head, he reached out and grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her to face him. “What you smell is Evie
Lovelady's perfume. She wrapped herself around me when I arrived at the Sweet Nothings club tonight to meet with Buck.”

“Evie Lovelady?” Deborah spat the woman's name out between clenched teeth. “You and she used to be quite an item if I recall correctly.”

“Evie and most of the guys I hung out with used to be an item. Now she's a happily married woman with three kids. She's Buck's wife.”

“So you had to get reacquainted with Evie before your meeting with Buck Stansell.” Deborah tried to pull out of Ashe's grip. He leaned forward, trapping her against the wall with his body. “Let me go. I've had enough!”

Ashe rubbed his body against Deborah's, then released his hold on her chin, only to pull her into his arms. “I had no idea I'd come home to this. A jealous woman ready to scratch out my eyes.”

“I'm not jealous. I have no reason to be, do I? We haven't made a commitment to each other. We haven't promised each other anything.” She couldn't bear having him this close, his hard body pressed intimately against her, his arms holding her tightly. “Just let me go, Ashe. I'm tired and I need some rest. Unless Buck Stansell confessed to trying to kill me and has promised to leave me alone, I think any discussion about your visit with him can wait till morning.”

Her jealousy aroused him as much as it irritated and amused him. He had no intention of letting her go to bed angry and hurt and filled with jealous rage.

Ashe lowered his hands to her buttocks, lifting her up and against his arousal. “I've been with Ed Burton for the last couple of hours, discussing my visit with Buck and going over the best way to end this nightmare for you and your family.”

“You've been with the police?” She gasped when he began inching her robe and gown upward, gathering more and more of the material in his hands.

He hadn't been in bed with Evie Lovelady. He hadn't been
enjoying himself with another woman while she sat at home worrying about him. She should have trusted Ashe. She should have known he wouldn't betray her.

“Buck claims he ended his harassment of you when Lon Sparks was convicted. He says someone else is after you.” Ashe buried his face against her neck, nibbling, licking, kissing.

She squirmed in his arms. “You—you don't believe him, do—do you?” She could hardly breathe. The blood rushed to her head, her knees weakened, her body moistened.

“I'm not sure.”

He reached under the bunched material he held against her buttocks and stroked her tenderly, then ran his hand up her back, loosening the tie belt of her robe. Nuzzling her soft flesh with his nose, he parted the robe in front, uncovering the rise of her breasts exposed by the low-cut nightgown. He took her tight nipple in his mouth, biting her gently through the maroon silk and ecru lace bodice. Deborah moaned with sweet pleasure.

He wanted her. Wanted her bad. He hurt with the need to take her. Here. Now. Hard and fast.

“We'll discuss this tomorrow,” he said, his breath ragged. If he didn't take her soon, he'd die.

“Tomorrow,” she agreed, reaching for his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders.

He covered her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. She clung to his arms, holding onto his jacket sleeves, which she'd managed to bring down to his elbows. He shrugged out of the jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Deborah unbuttoned his shirt, quickly, ripping off the last two buttons in her haste. Ashe removed her silk robe, then pulled her gown down to her waist. He teased her aching nipples with the tips of his fingers. Closing her eyes, she threw her head back and sighed, deep in her throat.

“Deborah,” he moaned her name. “Honey…how I want you.”

She reached out to touch his chest, moving her hand back and forth from one pebble-hard nipple to the other, curling her
fingers in his hair. Lowering her head, she licked one nipple and then the other. She stroked his shoulder holster, then reached around and under his shirt to caress his back, her nails biting into his flesh as she urged him to take her.

Clutching the sides of her gown, he eased it down her hips. It fell into a dark red circle at her feet. He lifted her breasts in his hands, as if testing their weight, then put his mouth on her, suckling her while she unbuckled his belt and lowered his zipper.

Deborah clung to his shoulder, her body aching with desperate need. Her breasts felt heavy, almost painful. Her body clenched and released, dampening, throbbing, ready for the ultimate pleasure.

When Ashe touched her most sensitive spot, she cried out, then covered her mouth with her hand, realizing she should be quiet. Somewhere in the back of her desire-crazed mind, she knew they were not alone in the house, that they were insane for taking such a risk.

He took her hand and placed it around him, telling her without words what he wanted. They stroked and petted each other, then Ashe removed her sheathing hand and whipped her around to face the wall. She shivered. He lifted her hair off her neck and kissed her, then covered her shoulders and back with kisses and stinging little nips which he followed with moist tongue caresses.

When he dropped to his knees behind her, Deborah squirmed and tried to turn around. He held her in place, his hand parting her thighs, his fingers seeking and finding the secret heart of her femininity. All the while he fondled her, he lavished attention on her buttocks, kissing every inch of her sweet, womanly flesh.

Deborah became wild with her need, pleading in soft, almost incoherent words for him to end the torture and take her. When he turned her to face him, she grasped his shoulders and urged him to stand. Instead, he buried his face against her stomach,
then nuzzled her intimately and spread her thighs farther apart. While his mouth brought her to the brink of fulfillment, his hands tormented her nipples.

The moment she fell apart, shattering her into a thousand pieces as if she'd been a glass doll, Ashe lifted her in his arms, carried her a few steps over to the kitchen table and set her down. Before she had a chance to catch her breath, he parted her thighs and plunged into her. He filled her completely. The aftershocks of her first release surged within her, gripping him as he invaded her hard and fast, with a fury born of a desire he could not control. The tension built again, higher and higher, and Deborah clung to him. He groaned, then shook from head to toe as he thrust into her one last time, emptying himself as unbearable pleasure claimed them both.

They kissed, again and again. He left her on the table while he picked up their scattered clothes. Her gown and robe. His jacket. Tossing the items over his arm, he lifted her and carried her out of the kitchen, down the hall and up the stairs.

He deposited her in her bed, kissed her on the tip of her nose and looked into her blue, blue eyes.

“Stay the night with me.” She clung to him, her arms still draped around his neck.

“And what if Miss Carol or Allen find me in here in the morning?”

“Lock the door.”

He smiled and nodded his head. “I'll go back to my room before daylight.”

He tossed their clothes on the foot of the bed, pulled out of her embrace and locked the bedroom door. Returning to her side, Ashe lay down and took her into his arms. Tomorrow he would tell her about his meeting with Buck Stansell. Tomorrow they would discuss the possibility that someone else might have a reason to want her dead. But tonight they would keep the rest of the world at bay, they would forget everything and everyone except each other.

He could think of nothing but making love to her all night long, taking her again and again, hearing her wild little cries of pleasure and the way she repeated his name.

For now, this heady, wild passion would be enough. And now was all that mattered.

D
EBORAH SAT IN
the hospital waiting room, her head resting on Ashe's shoulder, her eyes closed as she ended a prayer pleading with God to spare her mother's life and keep them all safe and well. The doctors had warned them after the first surgery that, although they had every reason to believe all the malignant tissue had been removed, there was always a chance the cancer could return. Now they faced a second cancer, a second surgery.

As if her mother's life hanging in the balance wasn't enough to worry about, Deborah now had to face the possibility that someone other than Buck Stansell was behind the recent threats on her life. Ashe had told her that he had considered waiting until after her mother's surgery before burdening her with Buck's denials and accusations. But with her life, and possibly Allen's, in danger from an unknown source, Ashe felt it necessary she be informed.

Ashe. Ashe. He was like a tower of strength, an endless source of comfort and protection. She could not imagine her life without him. She loved him more now than she ever had, and he had become such an integral part of her life, of all their lives, especially Allen's.

Allen hero-worshiped Ashe, adored him the way so many ten-year-olds adored their fathers. But neither Ashe nor Allen knew their true relationship, and Deborah's guilt at keeping the truth from them ate away at her conscience and broke her heart by slow degrees.

“Ms. Vaughn?” Missy Jenkins, a young LPN for whom
Deborah had found a house a few months earlier, stood in the waiting-room doorway.

“May we see Mother now?” Deborah asked.

“Yes. She'll be going in to surgery in about thirty-five minutes, if the doctor's schedule doesn't change.” Missy's smile made her rather homely face brighten to a certain degree of cuteness. “She'll be getting groggy soon, so you'd better go on in.”

Ashe stood, assisted Deborah to her feet and kept his arm around her waist as they walked down the hall. Deborah eased open the door to Carol's private room. Her mother looked so thin and pale lying there on pristine white sheets, an IV connected to her arm.

Carol opened her eyes and smiled. “Good morning, my dears. Come in. They've given me something and I'll be a babbling idiot soon.”

Ashe stood beside Deborah, who leaned down and hugged her mother gently, kissing her forehead. “Roarke is bringing Allen by before he takes him to school. I expect they'll be here any minute.”

“Such a precious child,” Carol said. “So much like you, Deborah.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Ashe, thank you for coming back to Sheffield, for keeping watch over us, for bringing Roarke here to help you.” Carol closed her eyes, then reopened them, focusing her gaze on Deborah. “I want to talk to you while I still can. I want you to promise me that—”

“Mother, this can wait until you're feeling better.” Deborah patted Carol's hand.

“Ashe, would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes.” Carol glanced over her daughter's shoulder at the big man standing guard. “Mother-daughter talk. You understand?”

Ashe squeezed Deborah's shoulder. “I'll be in the waiting room. As soon as Allen arrives, I'll bring him down here.”

The moment Ashe closed the door behind him, Carol Vaughn looked up at Deborah. “I may not live through this surgery, and if I don't—”

“Mother, please, you mustn't talk this way.”

Carol held up a hand in restraint. “Hush up. We both know there's a chance that the cancer has spread this time.”

“We have to be optimistic, to think only positive thoughts.”

“And we shall do just that, but…I want you to promise me you'll tell Ashe the truth about Allen.”

“Mother, please…please, don't ask that of me. Not now. Not this way.”

Carol gripped Deborah's hand with an amazing amount of strength. “Must I beg you to do this? I begged your father, years ago, not to make us all live a lie. If I had been stronger and stood up to him, none of us would be faced with this dilemma now.”

“I'm in love with Ashe. We're lovers. I keep telling myself that he won't leave me this time, that he cares enough to stay. But I'm not sure how he really feels about me, so how can I tell him that I gave birth to his child over ten years ago and have kept that child from him? What if Ashe hates me?”

“Ashe cares deeply for you. He always did.” Carol motioned for Deborah to come into her arms.

Deborah cuddled close to her mother's comforting body, careful not to bear her weight on Carol's thin frame. “What if I tell Ashe the truth and he tells Allen?”

“I don't think Ashe will tell Allen. Not now.” Carol stroked Deborah's hair, petting her in a loving, motherly fashion. “But you must tell Ashe. Tell him now. Don't wait. Do this for me. Consider it a last request.”

“Mother!” Deborah jerked away from Carol, tears filling her eyes. “Please, don't ask this of me.”

“I am asking,” Carol said. “Tell Ashe that he is Allen's father. Tell him today.”

“I can't!” Deborah turned away from her mother, tears trickling down her cheeks. She swatted them away with the tips of her fingers.

“You must tell him, Deborah. If you don't, Mattie will. She won't continue keeping our secret. And someday, you and Ashe must tell Allen the truth. He has a right to know.”

Deborah swallowed her tears. Her mother was right. The lie had gone on long enough. It was one thing to keep the truth from Ashe when he wasn't a part of their lives, but now that he had come to mean so much to Allen, now that she had fallen in love with him all over again, it was wrong to keep the truth from him.

“I promise I'll tell him,” Deborah said.

“Today?”

“Yes. Today.”

At that precise moment Ashe knocked twice, opened the door and escorted Allen into Carol's room. Ashe glanced at Miss Carol, then at Deborah's tear-stained face. His eyes questioned her silently. She shook her head, saying “Not now,” and went over to stand by Allen at her mother's bedside.

 

A
SHE WASN'T A
man who prayed often, and most people wouldn't call his supplications to a higher power prayers. He wasn't a religious man, wasn't a churchgoer, but he'd been in enough tight situations to know that even the unbelievers called on God for help when all else failed.

Ashe felt a bit out of place in this small hospital chapel. He could remember the last time he'd been in a house of worship. It was a funeral. Another soldier who hadn't made it back to the U.S. alive. A friend whose body had been shipped home.

He knew Deborah was having a difficult time dealing with her mother's surgery and the threats on her own life. It infuriated him that he could do so little to make things easier for her. At the moment, he felt helpless. He might be able to stand
between her and danger, to protect her physically, but he hated being unable to defend her against her own fear and sadness.

Miss Carol's condition was in God's hands; all any of them could do was pray and hope for the best. But the continued threats on Deborah's life were another matter. It shouldn't take Sam long to get the information he needed—who besides Buck Stansell had reason to threaten Deborah? Who had something to gain from her death?

Neil Posey was her partner, owning less than forty percent of the business. But what would he have to gain from Deborah's death? And what about Whitney? Did she stand to inherit anything from Deborah? Deborah had told him that Allen and her mother were her beneficiaries.

Maybe Buck had been lying, covering his tracks, knowing Ashe would have no qualms about coming after him if he thought Buck was responsible for harming Deborah.

Ashe looked at her, sitting several feet away from where he stood. Her shoulders trembled. He knew she was crying. They had come into the chapel nearly fifteen minutes ago, and Deborah didn't seem ready to leave yet. Maybe she found some sort of solace here. He hoped she did. He'd do anything, bear any burden, pay any price, to ease her pain.

When she stood, her head still bowed, Ashe walked up behind her, draping his arms around her. She leaned back onto his chest, bracing her head against him, folding her arms over his where they crossed her body.

She smelled so sweet, so fresh and feminine, such a contrast to the medicinal odors that mixed with the strong cleaning solutions in the hospital corridors.

“Miss Carol is going to be all right, honey. You've got to hang on to your faith.” Ashe kissed her cheek.

“You can't imagine how close Mother and I are. How much we've shared. How we've depended on each other completely since Daddy died.” Closing her eyes, Deborah bit down on her
lower lip. She could not put off telling Ashe the truth about Allen any longer. She had promised her mother.

“We're all going to come out of this just fine. Miss Carol is a fighter. She's not going to let the cancer win. And I'm going to make sure y'all are safe.” Ashe hugged her fiercely, as if holding her securely in his arms could keep the evil away. “I'm going to find out who's behind the threats and end this nightmare you've been living. After that, you and I have some decisions to make.”

Deborah's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time Ashe had even hinted at the possibility they might have a future together. Would he feel differently about her, about their future, once she told him Allen was his son?

“Ashe?”

“Hmm-hmm?”

She pulled away from him enough to turn around in his arms and face him. He placed his hands on both sides of her waist. She looked into his warm hazel eyes, seeing plainly the care and concern he felt.

“Let's go to the back of the room and sit. Please. I have something to tell you. Something to explain.”

“What is it, honey?” The pleading tone of her voice unnerved him. He sensed her withdrawal from him even though they were still physically connected. The emotional fear he noted on her face scared the hell out of him. “Deborah?”

She took his hand and led him to chairs in the back of the small chapel. They sat side by side. She wanted to continue holding his hand, to keep the physical contact unbroken, but she wasn't sure she could even look at him when she told him the truth.

Her heartbeat grew louder and louder; she was surprised he couldn't hear its wild thumping. Bracing her back against the chair, she took a deep breath.

“Deborah, are you all right?” She had turned pale, her eyes darkening with what he sensed was fear.

“This isn't easy for me, so please bear with me. Let me tell you what I must without your questioning me. Not until I've said it all. All right?”

Ashe reached for her. Shuddering, she cringed, holding both hands before her in a warning not to touch her. “Deborah, what's going on? I'm totally confused.”

“Please remember that I didn't know what Daddy did to you eleven years ago.” She took another deep breath. “I thought you'd left town on your own, that you washed your hands of me and…”

“We've been over this already,” Ashe said. “I don't see any need to rehash it.”

Under different circumstances, there would be no need. If she hadn't gotten pregnant the night they'd made love eleven years ago. If she hadn't given birth to his son. If she hadn't kept Allen's identity a secret.

Dear God, did she have the courage to tell him? Could she make him understand? Ashe McLaughlin was a possessive, protective male, one who would proclaim his fatherhood to the world. If she had ever doubted the deep, primeval urges within him, she knew now, only too well, that the man she loved was a man to be reckoned with, a man whose strength was feared and respected by others.

If only she knew how he truly felt about her. If he loved her, if…

“Please, Ashe, listen to me. A couple of months after that night…our one night together…I—I…”

A tight knot of fear twisted in his gut. “You what?”

“I discovered that I was—” she died a little inside “—pregnant.”

God, no! No! He did not want to hear this. He couldn't handle the truth. He didn't want to know that Deborah had lied to him. The one woman on earth he'd thought he could trust.

“What did you do when you found out you were pregnant?” he asked, a deadly numb spreading through his body.

Already his voice had grown cold. How distant would he become when he'd heard the complete truth? “I went to Mother. That's the reason she told Daddy. After you left town, Daddy said that I was better off without you, that he and Mother would take care of me and the baby.”

“Your father ran me out of town, knowing you were carrying my child?” Nausea rose in Ashe's throat. Hot, boiling anger churned inside him.

“Daddy arranged for Mother to announce that she was pregnant, but due to her age, she was having problems. He told everyone that Mother needed to be under a specialist's care.” Twining her fingers together, Deborah alternated rubbing her thumbs up one palm and then the other. “When I was six months pregnant, we went away, then returned to Sheffield several weeks after Allen was born.”

Anger, confusion and hurt swirled inside Ashe's mind and body. The truth had been there all along, staring him in the face. Even Roarke had tried to tell him. But he'd been too blind to see, too sure Deborah wouldn't lie to him, too afraid to accept the possibility that Allen could be his son. He hadn't wanted to admit that he was partially responsible for not having been a part of the boy's life for the past ten years.

“Allen.” Ashe spoke the one word.

Allen Vaughn was his son. His and Deborah's. Their one passion-filled sexual encounter eleven years ago had created a child. Why had he never considered the possibility? Despite his rather promiscuous teen years, Ashe had been fairly cautious, using a condom most of the time. But he hadn't taken any precautions that night. He'd been so out of his head, needing and wanting Deborah, that he'd been careless—careless with an innocent girl who had deserved far better treatment.