He lifts me in his arms. “I’m sure it will. In the meantime there’s a few things we need to discuss.”

“Oh? Things like what?” My smile grows when his hands dip under the hem of my T-shirt.

“Well, I can’t let this go without some sort of punishment. I’m sure you understand.”

I giggle all the way back to the bedroom.

†

Luke’s brand of punishment is more like pleasure. Lots and lots of pleasure. We float together on a cloud of bliss fueled only by our desire for each other. By the time we come up for air, it’s almost midnight.

“We should probably stop for food and water at some point,” Luke mentions between suctioning kisses to my spine.

I sigh at each tender touch, my skin tingling all over from being rubbed, teased and scratched. The more he touches me, the more I seem to want him. It’s an insatiable desire he’s stoked in me, like a wild animal that’s never quite fed.

I find I like being wild with him.

“Food is probably a good idea.” But I’m too lazy and satisfied to move. It’s so tempting to stay here in this bed and ignore the outside world forever. But despite the fact that everything is out in the open now, there’s still the very real threat of us being torn apart.

My mind runs through every worst case scenario, from Agent Walker arresting me despite Luke’s peace offering, to him deliberately messing with Grace’s custody situation to punish me. My little bubble of happiness leaks away and I shiver under the reality of all the bad possibilities still out there on the horizon.

“You just tensed up. What’s going on in there?” Luke kisses the side of my head and then pulls me back into his embrace. It’s my favorite place to be, wrapped up in his arms and surrounded by his love.

“Just thinking about everything. About what happens if this doesn’t work.”

He sighs. I turn over to face him. “Thank you again for what you did. I haven’t forgotten that I’m not the only one with a lot at stake here.”

“It’s all going to be fine. If this doesn’t work, something else will. We can always figure out a solution as long as we do it together. No more secrets.”

That’s a promise I can get behind. It killed me to hide things from him before and that’s not a mistake I’ll ever repeat. “I promise to always tell you the truth. Even if it’s that your feet are cold.”

He cracks up and then presses the soles of his feet harder against my shins. I howl as the ice cold skin makes contact.

“Holy shit. You’ll pay for that!”

We roll around and around on top of the covers until I manage to straddle him. He’s still laughing when I plant my hands on his chest pushing him down. Of course, he could easily overpower me if he wanted to but he allows me to hold him down.

“I surrender.”

His hips flex, pressing his cock against me. He enjoys letting me take the reins for sure. But I can tell he’s just as exhausted as I am. Neither of us has the energy to deliver on any erotic threats right now so I snuggle against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it thumps beneath my cheek.

Something occurs to me as I’m drifting toward sleep.

“Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you said you only put stuff you want them to see on that computer but what happens if that stuff leads them to other things? Things that get your father in trouble?”

His muscles tighten beneath my chest and by the sudden tension in his body, I know this isn’t the first time he’s considered this scenario.

“Oh Luke. I never meant for you to have to choose between me and your family. I would never want you to do that.” That’s basically what Agent Walker was trying to force me to do, choose between my sister and my best friend. I would never put him in that position.

He sits up, taking me with him until we’re chest to chest. Forehead to forehead. His hands gather up the long waves of my hair and he uses the long tail to hold me still.

“Seven, listen closely. It wasn’t even a choice. You are my family. And I will do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”

I can feel the truth behind what he’s saying with every word.  When he told me he loves me, he really meant it.

I guess love isn’t only for the lucky few after all.

chapter thirteen

†

LUKE

Over the next few weeks, things are quiet. Seven and I are both on pins and needles waiting for something, anything, to happen. But Agent Walker doesn’t contact her again and though we’re watching the news carefully for any mention of arrests, there’s nothing.

It’s too soon to declare victory but as we approach a month without calamity, I start breathing a little easier. We called their bluff and nothing bad happened. I’m not sure who is looking out for us upstairs but it appears that Seven’s been granted a get out of jail free card.

And so has my father, apparently.

Slowly the knot of uncertainty that’s been lodged in my stomach loosens and I start to believe that things are going to work out okay.

Then I open the door on a Monday morning to see my mom with tears in her eyes. And I know instantly that something is very wrong.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

I move back so she can come in the apartment. Seven is sitting at the kitchen counter drinking her coffee. Her eyes widen when she sees my mom and she tugs the hem of the shirt she’s wearing lower over her bare thighs.

“Anita! I didn’t know you were coming over this morning. I’ll just go change.” She abandons her coffee on the counter and edges out of the room, giving me a mortified glance before her face disappears around the corner.

“Is everything okay, Mom? Is Grandpop in the hospital again?”

She wrings her hands, her keychain jingling with the nervous movement. When I see the look on her face, the knot in my stomach is back.

“Oh, sweetheart. You haven’t been online today at all, have you?”

I shake my head mutely. She watches helplessly as I stroke the mouse pad on Seven’s laptop to wake it up. There’s always a laptop accessible in our place. And now that we’re together, we know all of each other’s passwords. Neither of us has anything to hide.

Her homepage is a search engine so I pull up the MSN homepage. The headline stares back at me.

Billionaire mogul Max Marshall dies in FBI raid.

When I was a little boy and something scared me, my mom used to make up a story about it. Like if I was scared of a bug, she’d tell me a story about the bug walking home after a long day to see his family. Or about how the monster under my bed was really a misunderstood creature who liked the dark instead of the sunlight.

For the first time in a long time, I wish that she could spin a story for me to make it all better. Tell me that my father is on a long vacation or that he’s the captain of a pirate ship and out to sea. But as I stare at the black and white letters on the screen, I know there’s no way to spin this story that can make it better.

Nothing can change the sick certainty that my actions are directly responsible for my father’s death.

“I called you several times this morning. Then when you didn’t pick up I came straight here.”

Her voice recedes in the background as I walk over to the window overlooking the parking lot. It’s a beautiful day, the contrast of the bright sun to the devastation going on inside my head almost ironic. I recognize a few of my neighbors walking to their cars, holding coffee mugs and purses.