Dealing with the knowledge that Ramon Carranza had been his father was difficult for a man like Nate, a man who'd spent twenty years dedicated to fighting for his country, to putting his life on the line for the principles of freedom and justice. His own father had been a part of the deadly cancer that had been eating away at the moral values of the United States for decades. And he was a part of that man, blood of his blood, flesh of his flesh. He could not deny the bitter legacy Ramon Carranza had left him any more than he could deny the vast fortune he had inherited.
Cyn's own attitudes had changed gradually since she'd fallen in love with Nate and had been thrust into the middle of his savage fight with Ian Ryker. Finally, she had come to terms with not only her own past, her husband's death and the murder of Darren Kilbrew, but she had come to terms with Nate's past. She did not condone violence, and yet she accepted the fact that violence had its place in mankind's never-ending struggle to survive. She realized that when violence is brought into your life, you inevitably have only two choices. The strong choose to fight back, to live, and hopefully restore peace. Nate was one of the strong ones, and now, she too, shared his strength.
More than anything, she wanted Nate to accept her comfort, to be receptive to the loving sanctuary she could give him. But all he had taken from her was the comfort of her body, the solace of hot, wild, frequent matings, as if making love to her could purge his soul of its torment.
Just as she poured herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, Cyn heard the knock at the front door. Setting her mug on the table, she walked down the hall. Opening the door, she half expected to see Mimi, who had become a frequent visitor during the last two weeks. Instead of Mimi's smiling face, Cyn encountered Emilio's scowling expression.
"Good morning. May I come in, please?" Always polite and formal. That was Emilio.
Cyn stepped back and, with a gracious sweep of her hand, invited him inside. She noticed that he carried a small gray box under his arm. "Want some coffee?" she asked. "There's a fresh pot out in the kitchen."
"No, thank you. I am here to see Nathan." Emilio stood rigidly, though his expression softened when he looked at Cyn. "I have something for him. Something I found when we were packing away Señor Carranza's personal belongings."
"I see." Cyn glanced down at the small box, wondering about its contents. "I'm afraid Nate is still asleep, and I hate to wake him. He hasn't had a good night's sleep since Ramon died."
"I'm not asleep." Nate stood at the end of the hallway, his body bare except for unsnapped cutoff jeans, his long black hair disheveled, and two weeks' worth of beard covering his face. "Too much damned racket. What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, glaring at their guest.
Emilio lifted the box and held it out toward Nate. "These were your father's. They are something I know he would want you to have."
"I told you and I told his lawyers that I don't want a damned thing from him. Not one dime of his dirty, bloody money!" Nate said, his eyes burning with the conviction of his words.
Emilio handed the box to Cyn, who took it just in time to keep it from dropping to the floor. "These are letters Grace Hodges sent Señor Carranza. The dates indicate she wrote him regularly from the time of Nate's birth until shortly before she died."
Not waiting for a reply or a response of any kind, Emilio nodded to Cyn, then turned and let himself out. Cyn held the small box against her bosom, almost feeling the warmth and love contained within the wooden box.
Letters. Love letters. Cyn looked up at Nate who had grabbed her by the shoulders. He whipped her around to face him.
"Come back to bed," he said, running his hand along the side of her leg, raising her gown and robe up to her hip.
She stepped away and thrust the box out toward him. "I think you should read these."
Nate glared at her. "I don't want to read any damn letters my mother wrote to her lover."
"To your father," Cyn reminded him. "To the man she loved."
Clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes, Nate reached out and took the wooden box. Dammit, he didn't want to know any more about his mother's love affair with Ramon Carranza. Wasn't it enough that he had to live with the knowledge that the man who had fathered him had been a criminal, and not just any criminal, but an underworld leader? * * *
Two hours later, Nate found Cyn walking on the beach. He knew she'd been waiting for him to come to her, giving him the time alone he needed to decide his future—their future.
He walked along beside her for quite some time before he spoke. She accepted his silent presence, as she had accepted his anger and frustration and unforgivably selfish behavior during the last two weeks. Dear God, what had he ever done to deserve a woman like Cynthia Porter, a woman who loved him enough to stand by him, giving him her support and strength while she willingly submitted her body for his pleasure?
And he had almost lost her. His hideous nightmare had almost come true. Ryker had come very close to killing her. But he hadn't. Ramon Carranza had died to save both Cyn and Nate. No matter what sort of life the man had led, no matter how sordid and sinful his past, he had atoned for some of his transgressions in one final act of love.
"She loved him a great deal," Nate said. "She wrote him regularly from the time I was a week old until shortly before her death. She sent him pictures of me, told him about my first tooth, my first word..." Nate's voice trembled.
"It's sad that they couldn't be together." She could feel the warm May sun caressing her arms and face. She felt so alive, so beautifully, joyously alive.
"He came to see her the day she died." Nate reached down and took Cyn's hand, entwining their fingers.
"He wasn't all bad. There was a private side to him that had nothing to do with his business dealings." Cyn stopped walking, tugged on Nate's hand and raised it to her lips. "You inherited his good looks, his strength, his damn macho pride... but you are your own man and you have nothing to do with the dark side of his life."
"I have a dark side to my life, too, Cyn. Perhaps just as dark as his." Nate pulled her to him, trapping their clasped hands between his chest and her breasts. "Can you accept a man with such flaws? Can you spend your life with a battle-scarred warrior whose past sins put you in danger, put you at the mercy of a madman?"
"I've accepted the fact that terrible things happen in life. The strong survive by fighting back when they're given no other choice."
"I want us to be strong and survive together," Nate said.
"Are you asking me to marry you, Nate Hodges?" she asked, smiling at him, her heart swelling with the wonder of love.
Swinging her off her feet and up into his arms, Nate laughed. "Damn right, I'm asking you to marry me. I may not be the smartest man in the world, but I've got sense enough not to lose the best thing that ever happened to me."
Clutching him around the neck, Cyn laid her head on his shoulder. "I love you, Nate. You're all I'll ever want."
Holding her up against his chest, Nate began walking back toward the house. "I may be all you want, but would you be interested in my father's millions?"
"What?"
"I've decided that Ramon Carranza's money could do a lot of good in this old world. I'm going to accept my inheritance and let you help me choose what charities need it the most. Needless to say, Tomorrow House will never have to close its doors."
"Oh, Nate, that's wonderful."
When they reached the porch, he slid her body slowly down the length of his until her feet touched the warm stone floor. Lowering his head, he brushed her lips with his in a tender, carefree kiss.