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She didn’t mind battling with Ashley, but she didn’t want to alienate her forever. Being too heavy-handed would definitely push her daughter away. She would, if necessary, do anything to protect Ashley, but she’d do everything she could to make certain it didn’t come to that.
On cue, her cell phone rang. It was Ashley’s ring tone, the one she herself had picked out so Felice would know it was her and answer the call. She only hoped the men guarding Ashley had placed the call, instead of letting her call whomever she wanted. Sighing, she took the call.
“Hello, Ashley. No, nothing has been settled, one way or the other.” She put weariness in her tone.
“Mom, this is ridiculous.”
“Protecting you isn’t ridiculous.”
“Then why didn’t you have the entire college evacuated?”
“Because if there is a legitimate threat, doing so would alert the perpetrators and we wouldn’t catch them.”
“So you’d just let people die?”
“Of course not. Investigators are working around the clock to make certain that doesn’t happen, and I might add they’re risking their own lives in doing so.”
“Only if there’s a real threat, and you don’t know that for certain.”
“No, I don’t.” Arguing with Ashley was like trying to nail gelatin to a wall. Her girl was slippery.
“So you intend to have me kidnapped and guarded every time you think there might be a threat?”
“Have I done this before?” Felice demanded.
A pause, then she heard a sulky, “No.”
“Then give me a little credit. I evaluated the intelligence, and even though I personally think nothing will come of it, it’s still credible enough that I don’t want to risk your life. You’ll understand when you’re a mother.”
Ashley made an exasperated sound. She would have continued arguing, but Felice said briskly, “I assume Mr. Johnson is there with you. Please hand the phone to him.” Johnson was the name they’d chosen for Ashley’s guard. Again, Felice had no idea what his real name was, nor did it matter.
“This is Johnson.” The man’s voice was calm. She was glad; whether or not he was a nice person didn’t matter, so long as he acted nice in front of Ashley.
“Be careful with her cell phone. Don’t let her have it again until this situation is resolved.”
“Yes, ma’am. She won’t like it, but you’re the boss.”
In the background, Felice heard Ashley demanding, “What did she say?”
“You may tell her exactly what I said. Keep her buttoned down tight.”
Felice ended the call, smiling at Ashley’s spirit even though it had been for nothing. She’d pay a price for this, but keeping her daughter safe was worth it.
Tomorrow … tomorrow she’d take care of Al.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Lizzy slept. She didn’t know how, because despite Xavier’s warning, the shock was so massive she’d been reeling from it. It didn’t help that she had no memory of what she’d done; she believed him implicitly. Not remembering her actions was somehow worse, because she had no context through which to filter the things he’d told her. She didn’t know what she’d thought, what she’d felt, what the other agents had done, where they’d taken her afterward or what she’d said and done. All she had were the bare facts, and on the face of it they were ugly.
Xavier could have told her more, and would if she asked, but all she’d wanted was time to absorb what he’d already said. “I’m okay,” she said steadily. “Just let me deal with it, okay?”
He’d given her a sharp look, one she’d returned without flinching, so he’d given a brief nod, turned out the light, and slid down in the bed with her. She’d turned on her side so her back was to him, not to shut him out, but because that was what felt right. He’d put his heavy arm around her and pulled her back so she was nestled in the cradle of his muscular body. She rested her hand on top of his. The position, the feel of him, the familiarity, had combined with the sheer physical exhaustion of the day and instead of lying awake fretting about things she couldn’t change, she’d gone to sleep within minutes.
She woke before dawn with his big hand sliding over her breasts, stroking and teasing her nipples into tight peaks. The things he’d told her the night before loomed over her, a heavy weight that could crush her. She shouldn’t enjoy this, she thought dimly. She didn’t deserve to laugh, to feel joy, yet pleasure was already blooming deep in her belly, so that she rose through layers of sleep into need, her breath sighing out, her body moving restle
ssly. That, too, felt very familiar, not just the sensation, but the timing. How many times had he awakened her in the early morning?
Maybe he understood something of what she was feeling, and that was why he’d chosen to wake her like this. She lived, and he wanted her to live, to find the fire and fullness of life that she’d once had. This, what was between them, was both trite and powerful. Civilizations had been risked, had fallen, because of love.
