Last Man Standing

He angled his head just enough to give her a better view of the vivid scar that ran down the side of his neck and disappeared into his shirt. Was that the one? Elena wondered. Was that the beginning of the rumored scar that had almost killed him?

He unfolded his arms and shrugged off his leather jacket and dropped it on the floor. She watched the way he moved, ran her tongue over her teeth. Remembered the kiss that wasn’t a kiss.

“You could be in danger if certain people in Chicago were to find out your identity, Elena. You’re what is known as a loose end.”

“A complication.”

“Yes. Coming here and stirring things up is no good. Your father’s name was not kept from you to hurt you, but to protect you. You and your mother.”

“That’s what Frank said, but I didn’t—”

“Believe him? This isn’t a game, Elena.”

She stiffened, resenting that word more and more. “I know that. I have no intention of broadcasting my identity to the world. All I want is his name. Give it to me, and I promise I’ll be on the next flight back to Key West.”

“You think his name will be enough?”

“Yes.”

“I think you want the name to be enough.” He shook his head. “We both know it won’t be.”

“I don’t think you know me well enough to say that.”

“What I know is that Frank has successfully kept your mother alive for twenty-four years. Do you want that to change, Elena? Is a name worth jeopardizing her safety?”

“I love my mother. I don’t want to hurt her. I want to understand. I want to know who I am. Why—”

“Why what?”

“Why it was kept from me.”

“You ask for something I can’t give you. Only your mother has a right to tell you who your father is. Or Frank.”

“You know Mother can’t tell me because she can’t remember the past. And Frank won’t. That leaves you.” Frustrated, afraid she’d come all this way for nothing, Elena said, “The saying goes, every man has his price. Since we both know you don’t need money, what do you want for the name?”

“You don’t have anything I want.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Sì. I am sure.”

He shoved away from the wall and moved past her to the bed and picked up her jacket.

“I saw you,” she said, watching him rifle the pockets.

Finding nothing, he tossed the jacket back on the bed, then glanced at her. “Saw me where?”

“Hiding in the shadows outside the house at Santa Palazzo the night before you flew back here with Joey and Rhea. I knew it was you because I smelled the smoke from your cigarette.” And the Scotch, Elena wanted to say, but she didn’t. “And when I went for a walk along the beach, you followed me.”

“Did you intend to swim?” he asked. “You brought a towel, but you never used it.”

“Did you follow me hoping to see what you could see?” she asked boldly.

He smiled and it softened his hard mouth. “Maybe I followed you to protect you from the dark. Or from the ocean monsters who come out after midnight to watch the sea witch swim naked in the moonlight.”

He had admitted to knowing her morning routine. What had made her think he hadn’t followed her after dark, as well—more than once?

That realization sent Elena’s stomach into another slow nervous flip—he’d seen her shed her clothes and swim naked in the moonlight.

“All right,” Elena said softly. “Once more. Right here. I’ll take off my clothes so you can get a closer look. Then afterward…for looking your fill, you’ll give me my father’s name.”

She waited for his answer. Waited, and felt her cheeks come alive with embarrassment over the insane proposition she’d just offered him. She’d never done anything so utterly reckless in her life.

“You think all I want is to look? To see what I can see?”

Those words on his lips, as slow and liquid as her name, tripled the color in Elena’s cheeks before moving down her throat.

He reached out and brushed the back of his hand along her hot cheek. “It’s generous of you to be willing to sacrifice so much for a name, but I’m going to have to pass on your offer.”

When he started past her, Elena panicked and stepped into his path, again nearly knocked over by the sweet smell of liquor. “Okay, more. You can—” her face burned hotly “—touch me.”

His expression never wavered as his gaze slowly traveled over her, seemingly assessing what he would get to touch. His eyes spent time appreciating the exposed swell of her breasts, then drifted to the gold ring in her navel.

Elena bit her lip, afraid he was going to again pass on her offer. Desperation was the only logical reason for the next thing that came out of her mouth. “Okay, everything, then. All of it. You can have—”

With lightning swiftness, he lifted her off her feet and tossed her onto the bed. Elena cried out, but that didn’t stop him. The second her back hit the bed, he was straddling her and pinning her hips to the mattress with his stone-hard thighs. “I can have what, Elena? Are you going to spread you legs for me, too?”

The words sounded crude. More embarrassment flooded Elena’s cheeks as she studied his clenched jaw and his angry black eyes. “I want my father’s name,” she whispered in an attempt to explain herself. A place to start, she thought silently.

His gaze settled on her breasts where they were straining the buttons of her sweater. While she struggled to breathe, he said, “I can get what you’re offering any day of the week. Free of charge now that I own this place. And I’m sure the girls here are more experienced.”

His insult fed Elena’s bravado. “They should be,” she reasoned. “I’m not a whore. I’m—”

His eyes lit on her face. “You’re what?”

She clamped her mouth shut, closed her eyes to conceal the emotions storming her body, as well as her mind. She had never had a man on top of her before.

“Come on, Elena,” he coaxed. “What are you? A virgin, maybe? A twenty-four-year-old virgin? No, I don’t think so. Virgins don’t swim naked and they don’t sell their bodies for information.”

She blinked open her eyes to argue the point and found him staring at her with a mocking grin on his face that made her feel cheap and dirty. Overcome with anger, she raised her hand and slapped his face. Hard.

For a moment there was nothing but silence while her handprint turned a vivid shade of red on his cheek, and in that space and time she became acutely aware of the heat growing between them. The sudden tightness drawing her nipples into hard peaks and the weakness in her limbs making her want to fidget.

“Get off me, Lucky. Presente!”

“You’re a virgin?”

“Get off me.”