“But they couldn’t keep him quiet,” Mason said. “Your father talked to the wrong people.”
“That would be like him. He’s always been so trusting, so naive, like a child.” Ruby could feel herself crumbling inside. “Now somebody wants me dead—and you said you had orders to kill me. Who gave you those orders?”
“Never mind that. You can’t stay here,” Mason said. “I’ve got money. I can get you on the midnight train. Go as far as it will take you. Change your name, whatever it takes. I’ll just say that you got away before I could find you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not leaving without my father. My handlers promised me that when the time came, they’d get both of us to safety.”
“Ruby, your father gave you up to the enemy.”
“But he didn’t mean to, Mason. If he stays in prison without my protection, they’ll put him to hard labor. He’s old, and he’s not strong. He’ll die.”
“You’ll die if you stay.” He took a breath. “The man who’s giving the orders is in prison. I served time with him, some of it as his bodyguard, and I know how ruthless he can be. If he decides I’m not capable of killing you, he’ll send a professional to do the job.”
Mason was watching her, his gaze alert but tender in the faint light. Outside, windblown snow battered the windowpane. If things had been different, she might have moved closer or reached out and touched him. Something about Mason Dollarhide made her yearn for things she had long since left behind—warmth, safety, and the freedom to love. But that chance had come too late. Tonight she could be seeing him for the last time.
“I have a plan,” she said. “I’ll call my handler, Agent Hargrave, and tell him that I’ve been found out. The agents will come and take me to their safe house to wait for my father. You can leave before they get here. They don’t even have to know you were involved.”
“Are you sure you can count on their help, Ruby?” Mason said. “Now that you’ve been exposed, you’ll be of no more use to them. They’ll have no reason to protect you.”
“But they promised me,” Ruby argued. “They said they’d free my father and send us somewhere safe. And they’re working for the United States government. I even met the man who’s in charge now, Mr. J. Edgar Hoover. If I can’t trust them, who can I trust?”
His hands came up to cradle Ruby’s face. His piercing eyes locked with hers. “Blast it, Ruby, you’re just as naïve as you say your father is. You might trust those men, but I’m not leaving you alone with them, not until I know you’re going to be all right.”
“But they’ll know who you are—I’ve reported you. You could go back to prison.”
“I said I’m not leaving,” he insisted. “I want you safe. I’ll deal with the rest. I have a plan of my own.”
“But why take a chance?” she whispered. “Why risk so much for a woman who’s already put you in danger?”
“I’ve asked myself the same damned question.” He kissed her then. His mouth—hard, urgent, and seeking—answered in a way that erased all need for words. As the kiss lingered, a pulsing desire, too long denied, welled in the depths of her body, its heat pooling down into her thighs and flowing upward until every part of her shimmered like sunlight through rainbow glass.
She knew Mason was far from perfect. He was a man who’d played by his own rules and paid the price. But none of that mattered. She had wanted him from the first moment he touched her.
Her blanket fell to the bed as she raised her arms to pull him down to her. Her body was naked beneath her muslin nightgown. His hands were cool through the thin fabric, but his lips were warm, pressing the curve of her neck, moving to her throat and down to her breasts.
Ruby had never been intimate with any man except her husband. After his death, and even before, she had frozen her physical and emotional needs. Now, in Mason’s arms, she was swept away by a wild hunger. She wanted his hands on every part of her, his bare skin warm and rough against hers, his hard arousal filling the dark emptiness inside her.
She tugged at his belt buckle. He reached down to help her. The holstered gun thudded to the floor with his trousers, followed by his boots and the rest of his clothes. Kissing her again, he eased her out of the nightgown and folded her under the covers.
He was an experienced lover, as Ruby had sensed that he would be. But she didn’t care how many other women he’d enjoyed in the past. Here and now, he was hers—and she was his.
Taking his time, he calmed her feverish need with gentle kisses, then aroused her slowly, nuzzling her breasts, his tongue teasing the nipples into sensitive nubs. She moaned, arching her body to meet his caresses.
“I’ve wanted you from the time you took me up in your plane,” he murmured against the hollow between her breasts. “I’ve dreamed of pleasuring you, Ruby. But anytime you want me to stop . . .” He brushed a trail of feathery kisses down the midline of her belly, then moved lower and lower still.
“Oh . . .” Her fingers tangled in his hair as the first climax rippled through her body. “I didn’t know you could . . . oh!” Her words ended in a gasp as it happened again.
“Anything else?” His tone was teasing.
“Yes . . . oh, yes.” Her legs opened for him, hips rising to meet his thrust. Slick with moisture, she welcomed him in, feeling every inch of his hard strength as he filled her. Instinctively, they moved as one, as if they’d been forged for this—and for each other. Deeper, faster, like two comets mounting the sky, they burst into starlight and floated back to Earth.
She lay in Mason’s arms, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. He had shown her what could happen between a man and woman when their bodies and souls were in tune—something she had lost sight of during the last years of her marriage. But when he turned and kissed her, Ruby understood.
Mason had given her one last gift—something to remember after they had to say goodbye.
I love you, Mason. The words rose in her mind. But some things were better left unsaid.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN