He kissed her lips and ran a hand over her hair before gripping her waist and lifting her. He settled her on the bed beside him. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
She curled onto her side and murmured, “Like I could.”
His grin hit her dead center in the chest. A flash of those beautiful teeth. Light in his eyes. Color electrifying his skin. He looked so refreshed, so alive. So real. And in that instant she realized how stiff and plastic he’d appeared in the photos in the papers and magazines and interviews. Remembered his words to her before they’d made love. And her heart burst open.
He stood, braced his hands on the bed, and lowered himself in a push-up to kiss the tear tracks from one cheek. Then kissed her lips so sweetly, the tears almost started up again.
She watched him walk to the door with a small smile lifting her lips. “Still have the best ass, Foster.”
He paused in the doorway, twisted to look at her, and the way the light drifted over him showed off every muscle in that sleek body. He smiled. Slow, hot, with so much love in his eyes Halina’s heart swelled painfully.
He disappeared through the door and Halina was left wondering . . . could they make this work? There was so much for them to overcome. But he loved her. She believed that. And she loved him. So very much. If he could forgive her, they had a chance. The question was if.
Mitch moved through the room quietly, laying a blanket over her. Then climbed behind her on the bed and curved his naked body to hers. He pulled her into his arms, pressed his face to the back of her neck, and kissed her.
Halina’s heart compressed. She squeezed her eyes closed. His hand slid gently down her arm, scraping his nails lightly back up. His lips dropped kisses along her neck, then her shoulder. He let out a long sigh, threaded their fingers, and brought her hand up to his for a series of kisses.
She let herself fall back into him, his body warm and strong behind her. Let herself drift into the pleasure buzzing through her body. Let her mind float and play with images as they came. Visualized the apartment in that old Victorian in DC and the space beneath the sink. Remembered the panic as she’d jammed the box into the dark hole.
Tension built in her chest. In her limbs. She squirmed against the growing restriction, but found herself as frozen as if she were stuck in concrete. Panic crawled over her skin and tightened her chest, making it hard to breathe. She tried to pull in air, tried to call out, yell for help, but could only wheeze out a thin throaty whine.
Breathe. The thought caressed her mind. Direct your focus.
Halina slowed her spinning brain, and concentrated on the images coming into view—transparent layers atop each other, like two movies playing together on the same screen.
The screens slowly separated. Color softly filled each side. For Halina that told her which was the positive future, which was the negative. She watched the positive screen first, chest less constricted with a new sensation of control. There, Mitch was in a comfortable-looking room of a house Halina didn’t recognize with the team gathered around. The space was opulent with rich finishes, fine furniture, and windows looking out over a river. Everyone was spread out through the room, much the way they’d been tonight at Alyssa’s, files and papers spread out before them, the team skimming the contents and talking. The atmosphere was serious, but hopeful.
Those images started to fade before Halina had a chance to really study them for more clues. But even before this image fully disappeared, another showed up, then another, and another, in quick succession, like a slide show. These images seemed to be from even further into the future and showed the other members of the team and the kids. In the short clips everyone looked happy and healthy. Then Mitch appeared, with another stunning woman, at another private party. Nothing had changed from Halina’s prior vision except the woman’s identity, but no one Halina had seen him with in the past. Mitch still knew everyone, dressed to the nines, and took the woman’s invitation to the bedroom with pleasure.
Just the thought of moving her attention to the other outcome started the turbulent swirl of terror. Her throat ached with the need to call out for help. Her limbs burned from straining against their restrictions.
You’re safe. You’re not alone. Together we’re strong.
The reassurance gave her the strength to redirect her attention to the other side. Her vision filled with the sight of Mitch, handcuffed, blood covering his face. Her whole body reacted, but with the cement holding her in place, she only jerked against the restraint. He stood with his shoulder against a cinder block wall, his hair falling across one eye and an I’ll-kill-youthe-second-I-get-the-chance look beaming from the other. A dark figure, similar to the figures from the previous vision, stepped in and slammed Mitch across the face.
In slow motion, Halina watched his head jerk sideways. Watched pain rip across his handsome features. Watched blood spill from his mouth. Watched him stumble and drop to one knee. She tried again to scream. Again, her mouth served as nothing more than an empty cavern.
The dark figure closed in on Mitch while he was still down. The shadow pulled a weapon from his jacket, pressed it against Mitch’s head.
No, no, no!
Halina thrashed against the muck holding her down, sucking at her limbs. Forced her voice from her lungs. “No!”
“Halina!” Her body shook hard. “Halina, wake up. Come out of it.” Another hard shake. Pain shot through her jaw. “Halina!”
The explosion of a gunshot burst inside her head. She sucked air as she broke the surface of reality, a sheet of glass shattering in a million shiny shards. Glittering so bright, they blinded her. Halina cringed against the light.
“Jesus Christ.” The rasp sounded in her ear, but came from far away. She had the sensation of someone’s arms around her but not holding tight enough, and she was sure she’d simply slip through the embrace. “Hali, shh, you’re all right.”
Within ten seconds, the vision had cleared and Halina was enveloped in Mitch’s arms, his warm body infusing her cold flesh. A headache double the size of her head exploded through her brain.
“Shh, shh,” he murmured, pulling the blanket around her shoulders with one hand, stroking her hair with the other. “You’re safe. You’re safe. I’m here. It’s over.”
Halina shivered uncontrollably. She had no strength to cling to Mitch the way she wanted to as the violence against him played over and over in her memory. She curled into his protective embrace, fighting to think past the pain.
“You . . . get the papers,” she said, her teeth chattering, chest burning. “Everyone . . . is safe. You . . . you . . .” She hiccupped in agony as she thought of him with the other woman. She’d hoped this vision would be different. That she would have been the woman he was with in his positive future. But this was just another of the same. Mitch dying in a white shirt. Or Mitch living happily without Halina.
“I what, baby?” he murmured.
“You have another woman . . . a different woman . . .”
“Halina,” he crooned. “That’s not—”
“Or you die. Beaten . . .” She had to draw air to go on. “Then sh-shot . . . in the head. Because you were trying to h-help me.”
Mitch took her face in his hands and tipped her gaze up to his. “Halina, that’s not reality.”
“It’s m-my reality. Nothing’s changed. Every time you die, it’s b-because of me.” She pulled out of his hold and curled into a ball, huddling into the blanket. “Your death is always m-my fault.”
FIFTEEN