She looked down into those steel blue eyes, surprised by the depth of emotion reflected back. "Thank you," she whispered, her mouth dry from the gag. Without thinking, she reached out to cup the side of his face, and he leaned into her touch, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to her palm.

  "Isn't that just sweet. Don't get too attached, son. She doesn't like to stay in one place."

  At her father's voice Monica dropped her hand, the moment broken. She tried to reclaim her other hand, but Harley held it firm in his grasp as he rose to face Burns.

  "Oh, I don't know," Harley said thoughtfully. "I think she'd put down roots just fine if she felt safe enough. Now why don't you tell us what's really going on here. I think we have a right to know, since you seem intent on dragging us into it."

  Burns nodded. "You're right," he said, turning to his bodyguards standing just inside the door. "Make sure we're not disturbed," he said, watching the door shut behind them. He took a seat in a wicker chair by the closet. "You may as well sit down. This could take awhile."

  Harley took a seat on the bed, one arm braced casually behind Monica. She looked at her father, not entirely sure if she wanted his explanation, but needing to know.

  "For many years now, I've...arranged for unwanted children to be obtained by people who want them. People who are willing to pay a lot of money for the convenience of not having to deal with government red tape, as well as the shortened time frame. The baby who just left is going to a couple who can't have children, and can't adopt due to some, shall we say, indiscretions in the mother's former life."

  Monica frowned. "So you just give babies to people who aren't fit to adopt the right way? How do you know those kids will get a good life?"

  "We don't," he said with a shrug. "I don't do business with pedophiles, and I have someone drop in on the client for a surprise visit sometime within six months of the transaction. After that, we have no further responsibility. Just like adopting a pet."

  Her stomach roiling, Monica shook her head. "How can you say that? You're talking about people's lives - children's futures. How can you just sell them to the highest bidder and move on to the next?" Harley stood, pacing near the end of the bed.

  Burns leaned forward, propping his forearms on his knees. "Those kids don't have any chance at all without me. We get them from orphanages, desperate mothers, prisoners, drug addicts. Without me, they'd be turned over to child services and probably forgotten in the system or worse, given to foster parents who just want another government check."

  "How long," Monica asked, trying to stay calm. So many children had visited when she was young, kids she didn't know who stayed a day or two, and then she never saw again. Could this really have been going on all that time?

  He sat back in the chair, scrutinizing her carefully. "You were the first."

  Chapter Nine

  Monica stared at her father. Or was he? "I was the first? But you never sold me..." The meaning behind his words sank in, and what little energy she had drained from her muscles. Harley sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her back to support her. "You bought me," she whispered, nausea tickling her stomach. "You're not my real father. Who am I?"

  Harley tried to pull her close, but she pushed him away, anger replacing the shock. She got to her feet, the urge to throw things so strong she thought it might tear her apart. With considerable effort she held steady, her arms shaking as she faced the man who'd made her entire life a lie. "Who. Am. I," she repeated.

  Burns rose from the chair. "There's no need for hysterics," he said, flashing a smile that somehow didn't seem sincere. "As far as I'm concerned, you're my daughter. That hasn't changed, and never will."

  Monica shook her head, looking at the floor. Her thoughts whirled with the ramifications of what he was telling her. She didn't want to be his daughter, and now as it turned out, she wasn't, not really. But where did she come from? Who was her mother, and how much money had she taken in exchange for her child? The noise in her head grew louder, and suddenly the room was too small. She needed air.

  "I have to go," she said, moving quickly toward the door. "I need air." She flung the door open and pushed between the bodyguards standing in her way. Vaguely aware of someone calling her name, she bolted out the apartment door, kicked her remaining shoe off and took the stairs two at a time until she reached the ground floor. Ten more steps and she was outside, striding as fast as she could manage toward the other end of the compound. Five minutes later, she found herself standing in front of Harley's mansion, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath and no closer to an answer than she had been. And then she felt it, sharper than it had ever been before.

  It was time to leave.

  She jogged up the stairs and through the house, waiting impatiently for the elevator to take her down to the basement. She'd use the tunnel Betsy had shown her, and escape into the night. She only hoped her father - Mr. Burns - would go easy on Harley after she left.

  The corridor was darker than she remembered, and her heart raced, every sound sending another jolt of awareness through her system. Cold seeped through her socks and she swore under her breath, hesitating only a moment to consider going back for shoes. Panic drove her on. Just before she reached the door to the tunnel, her senses went on high alert, and she stopped, peering cautiously down into the near-darkness. "Is someone there?"

  A male figure detached from the black wall, moving slowly toward her and blocking her way out. "Just me," Harley said, stopping to look down at her with such concern it brought the tears she'd been fighting to the fore. "I had a feeling you might decide to run. I was hoping I might be able to change your mind." He reached out to touch the side of her face and she batted his hand away. He stepped closer, repeating the gesture. The look on his face was so caring that she allowed it. She didn't want to feel alone anymore, and somehow she knew he'd stay beside her, no matter what.

  The tears fell finally, sobs wracking her body as she leaned into his broad chest. His arms curved around her, holding her tight as he pressed a kiss to her temple. Then he was lifting her, carrying her down the hall. She clung to him as he set her gently in the middle of his bed and laid down beside her, pulling a blanket up to cover them both.

  As her sobs subsided, Monica loosened her grip on Harley's shirt, resting her fingers against his chest. His heart beat a slow, steady rhythm under her hand and she snuggled closer, her face against the side of his neck. He stroked a hand over her arm and pressed his lips to her forehead before skimming his knuckles lightly across the side of her breast. She looked up into his eyes. The mixture of concern and desire she saw there nearly brought her to tears again.

  "Thank you," she whispered. "I don't want to leave, Harley. I want to stay here - with you."

  He nodded, leaning close so that his lips were just a breath away from hers. "Then stay," he said, his tongue flicking out just to tease at the corner of her mouth. "Everything will work out. I promise." His mouth closed over hers and she sighed, closing her eyes. His kiss pushed all the bad feelings to the recesses of her mind, and she pulled him closer, hungrily taking everything he offered.

  He broke the kiss slowly, nipping and licking at her lips before he used his hands to tilt her head up. He ran his tongue down the center of her throat to lave the hollow at the base. Monica arched up, her body begging for more and he gave it to her, stopping only to draw her shirt over her head, then trailing kisses down the center of her chest and between her breasts. He traced one nipple through her bra with the tip of his finger and she arched up again. "Please, Harley."

  He chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending chills of pleasure right down to her core as he pulled the thin fabric aside and sucked the sensitive tip into his mouth. She whimpered, unable to remain still as his other hand slipped between her legs and lightly scraped a blunt fingernail over the front of her jeans. Her hips bucked, and he palmed her breast with one hand as he moved lower, kissing her ribs, her stomach, and exploring her navel with her tongue. She writhed in pleasure, her whole body on fire even as he removed her jeans. Raising her head at the fluttering touch she felt at her ankle, she opened her eyes and looked at her feet to see him kissing his way up her leg, his strong hands kneading the muscles as he went. It was wickedly delicious, and he looked up to meet her eyes. "You are gorgeous, darlin'," he said, his gaze never wavering from hers. He continued up her leg, kissing and kneading until he reached the juncture of her thigh. She watched as he licked his lips, then slowly began to circle the sensitive spot between her legs, flicking her clit and driving her into a frenzy. Her head fell back and she closed her eyes as he took her higher, the heat at her center building with every lick and swirl of his tongue.

  Her release came swiftly, her entire body shivering as the shocks rippled under her skin as her head whirled. Harley came up beside her, folding her in his arms and holding her tight from behind until the waves of pleasure subsided. Words to tell him how she felt, what he meant to her drifted through her mind, but she remained silent as he pulled the blanket up over them again. She tried to turn, wanted to give him what he'd given her, but he held her still.

  "Shh..." he breathed in her ear, stroking her hair back with one hand. "We'll figure all this out tomorrow. Sleep."

  * * * The sound of running water woke Monica the next morning. She stretched her arms overhead and glanced at the partially shut door to the master bathroom. An image of Harley in the shower came to mind, warm water sluicing down his sculpted, naked body as he tilted his head back, running his hands though that long sandy hair. A shiver went through her as she remembered the night before, the horrible news and how Harley had been waiting for her. He'd broken the cycle, stopped her from running. Made it okay to stay.

  He'd saved her. Again.

  She tossed the covers back and crawled out of bed, pushing back the nagging guilt that she should be more upset about what she'd learned last night. Instead she felt lighter, as if she'd just been released from a dark prison cell. She wasn't Burns' daughter. He had

  no claim on her. But the man in the shower did. The man who'd risked everything to help her, even before he really knew her. The man who still hadn't given up on her, even when she was ready to give up on everything. Her heart racing, she pushed the bathroom door open and slipped inside, the damp heat enveloping her as she stood staring at the opaque white curtain. She wanted to go to him, but a tiny niggle of doubt held her in place.

  "You just gonna stand there all day, or you wanna come scrub my back?" The teasing comment washed away the last of her fear, as he grinned at her around the curtain. "I might even wash yours if you're lucky." She smiled and stepped into the shower. He wrapped his arms around her and bent down for a kiss so tender and...loving she nearly forgot to breath. "Better this morning?" he asked, guiding her under the spray. She nodded and closed her eyes as he gently tipped her head back, his fingers smoothing the water into her hair. Bliss.

  Then his lips were on the side of her neck, licking, sucking, and moving lower. She sighed, her arms sliding over his shoulders as he took the peak of one nipple between his lips. She arched into him, only his hands at her hips keeping her from falling back as he pulled and nipped at her breast. Heat and moisture between her legs brought a moan to her lips, and she grasped his head, pulling him up to meet her eyes.

  "Inside me," she said, her voice raspy with need. "Now, please."

  Harley nodded. "Yes ma'am." He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his

  waist, sinking down onto his thick, rigid cock with a whimper of delight. He turned to brace her against the wall, and then took her lips, his tongue plundering her mouth as he thrust in and out, in and out in a slow, steady rhythm.

  He pulled back an inch, and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her with an intensity that blew her away. "You're mine," he growled, punctuating the statement with a hard thrust. "You'll always be mine. Don't ever leave."

  Tears threatened as she shook her head. "I'm yours," she said, leaning forward to kiss him softly as she tightened her inner muscles around him. "I won't leave. Ever. I love you."

  He pressed his lips to hers again and buried his face in her neck as he pounded into her against the shower wall, as if desperate to mark his claim. Her eyes fluttered closed as the tension built between her legs, her whole body spasming as she came, wave after wave of pure bliss radiating over and through her skin. He lifted her higher, his shaft sliding free and she whimpered again as he lowered her to her feet, holding her tight against him as she rode out the orgasm.

  When she could breathe again, she looked up at him, caressing his jaw with her hand. "You didn't..."

  He shrugged, his lips turned up slightly. "No condom." He turned off the cooling water and pushed the shower curtain aside. Stepping out of the bathtub, he reached for a towel, but Monica grabbed his arm.

  "Not so fast, mister." she grinned, stepping out next to him and sitting on the edge of the tub. Grasping his hips, she leaned forward, flicking the end of his cock with her tongue. With a wink, she took him into her mouth, her gaze locked on his as she sucked him deeper. He groaned, his fingers running through her hair as she pulled back slowly then pushed forward again. She licked and swirled her tongue, working him with her mouth until he began thrusting his hips forward, gentle but insistent. Circling the fingers of one hand around the base of his shaft, she pulled and pumped and sucked until his body stiffened, the warmth of his release flowing down her throat.

  "Wow." Harley took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He helped Monica to her feet, nearly stumbling backward into the counter as his own equilibrium malfunctioned. Wrapping his arms around her, he held tight, part of him daring to hope that she meant what she'd said. The other part warning him to wait and see. Reluctantly he loosened his hold and grabbed the towel he'd been reaching for earlier. He tossed it around her shoulders, stifling the urge to rub her down himself. "We'd better get moving," he said, his tone harsher than he'd intended judging by the question in Monica's eyes. He winked as he wrapped a towel around his own waist. "I really don't think we're going to get anything done until we put some clothes on...unless you'd rather not. I'm sure we could find some way to keep ourselves entertained for the day..."

  She giggled. "Go get dressed," she said, playfully tossing her towel at him. "I'll just brush my teeth and meet you in the kitchen...say, twenty minutes?"

  He nodded, just happy to see her smiling as he turned and walked out of the room. She probably wouldn't be by the time they were done talking. They needed to figure out how to get evidence against her father, something that would ensure that he'd be locked up for life. If the FBI agent posing as a bodyguard couldn't get anything, he had little hope they'd be able to. Still, he had to try. Not just for the ranch, but for her as well. Monica had been put through the wringer by Burns, and that was enough to put him away for good, from Harley's perspective.

  He pulled on clean jeans and a tight black t-shirt, then padded out to the kitchen in bare feet. He put a pot of coffee on and set the counter island with two bowls, spoons, glasses, and a box of cereal. He was just getting the milk out of the fridge when Monica joined him.

  "Better?" she asked with a grin, scooting onto a padded bar stool.

  He stood back, pretending to study her like an artist sizing up a subject. "No." He shook his head in mock disappointment. "But it will do for awhile, I guess." He joined her, putting the milk between them on the counter. "Help yourself," he said, trying to decide how to approach the conversation they needed to have. He decided to start with the truth.

  “There’s an FBI agent working undercover for Burns, but he hasn’t been able to get anything because Burns keeps the business so far removed from himself most of the time. This is the first chance he’s had to even get close, but he asked for my help. If I—we, can get him something, he’ll be able to pass it back to the proper authorities.”

  She poured milk on her cereal and handed the container to him. "Well, we should start by talking to him then," she said, her gaze focused on her bowl. "I don't know what kind of evidence he needs, but we should get it fast before my...uh, Burns decides to split." She glanced at him, her expression neutral.

  Harley nodded. It was probably for the best, this cool detachment, considering what her role would have to be for the duration. Still, he rubbed a hand over her shoulder, pleased when a hint of warmth tinged her cheeks at his touch. "You're going to have to convince Burns that you forgive him," he said, feeling her shiver under his fingers. "Not just to get evidence, but to stay safe. If he thinks you might go to the police, there's no telling what he'll do to keep that from happening. If anything happened to you..."

  She leaned toward him, resting her head against his chest as he hugged her close. "I've been pretending to be his daughter for nearly as long as I've been alive," she said, kissing his jaw before pushing gently out of his embrace. "I'll manage until we can throw the bastard in jail."

  Harley grinned. "That's my girl." He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Burns' number. "Might as well get this ball rolling," he said, holding the phone to his ear.

  Chapter Ten

  Monica bent low over the green felt, cradling the stick between her thumb and forefinger as she lined up a shot on the eight ball. It was a perfect, straight shot into the corner pocket and under normal circumstances she'd make it every time. Pivoting the stick just a tiny bit on her hand, she drew back and popped the cue ball, striking the eight enough off-center to send it careening recklessly into the rail and back down toward the other end of the table.

  "Oops!" she said, giggling as she stood and backed away, stumbling over her own feet just enough to make it believable. "Don't know how I mished that," she slurred at a grinning Harley. His smile was genuine, and she thought maybe he was enjoying her role just a little too much. Would he help her line up the next shot, she wondered?

 

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