creative end of things."
"Unless—"
Devon's smile faded. "Unless it involves security clearances and the like. Is that what you're thinking?"
She shrugged, avoiding his intent gaze. "I guess."
He watched as she picked up a red autumn leaf from the ground beside the blanket and started twirling it between her fingers. "Is that why you've been so quiet? Because telling me about it last night brought back memories?"
Lara hesitated, then said, "What happened to my father was left unresolved, unfinished. His murderers were never identified, much less caught and tried, and the evidence he spent his last days working on was never found. It didn't have an ending. And until it does..."
"You won't be able to put it behind you," he said.
"No. That's why it's almost a relief to believe the cartel has tracked me down. Something is happening, and that's better than nothing. I wanted you to understand that."
He was silent for a moment, then said, 'I can understand that, Lara." His mouth tightened suddenly as he added, "But you're risking your life needlessly by refusing to contact the authorities."
"I told you. I don't want to be moved again, and that's what they'd do."
"I realize how you feel, but—"
"How can you?" She stared at him with burning eyes. "Have you ever had your roots cut away? Have you had to learn to answer to a strange name? Have you had to divide your life into two parts, and try to forget the first part ever existed?" She drew a shaky breath. "Every face could be an enemy, so you have to hide. You hate the fear, but you can't fight it, can't conquer it—not until there's an ending. And that ending could come tomorrow... or never."
"Lara..."
"It's like being half-alive," she whispered. "And all you can do is wait . In limbo. Like Rapunzel in her damned tower. I can't stand it anymore, Devon. I want my name back, and my life; I can't have either until it's over."
"I'm sorry," he said softly. He was very still.
She regained her control and made her voice even. "So am I. I shouldn't be dumping all this on you. But I haven't been able to talk to anyone about it."
Devon reached out suddenly and pulled her down beside him. He leaned over her, his wide shoulders blocking the sunlight. "I want you to tell me how you feel, honey," he said softly.
She gazed up into his shadowed eyes and knew he was lying. Her pain was a burden to him. She summoned a smile. "Never mind. I'll stop feeling sorry for myself. We should be getting back; you may not have a schedule, but I have a deadline and I need to work this afternoon." It was a lie, but Lara didn't care. Her whole life was a lie. Why balk at one more?
He stared down at her for an instant, something very like frustration tightening his handsome features. Then, with a curse muttered under his breath, he bent his head and kissed her fiercely, as if she were trying to elude him and he could keep her only with the power of his kiss.
Lara knew that she should fight her own response. This extremely complex man baffled her; she had the odd conviction that he was caught up in something beyond his control, just as she was, and that it was tearing him up inside. She was half-afraid to trust him, even though she had; and she tried to remember that some part of him was fighting this.
Yet she knew, with a certainty beyond question, that he needed this, just as she did. The inexplicable bond between them was something neither could fight, as if its roots were embedded too deeply inside them ever to be torn out except at the cost of mortal agony.
And her response came from that affinity, that shared, almost desperate need. She didn't understand it, but she could no more fight it than she could willfully stop breathing.
Her arms crept up around his neck, her fingers twining in the silky strands of his black hair. Her mouth came alive beneath the insistent pressure of his, opening to him. She felt one of his arms slip beneath the small of her back to press her firmly to his
"Unless—"
Devon's smile faded. "Unless it involves security clearances and the like. Is that what you're thinking?"
She shrugged, avoiding his intent gaze. "I guess."
He watched as she picked up a red autumn leaf from the ground beside the blanket and started twirling it between her fingers. "Is that why you've been so quiet? Because telling me about it last night brought back memories?"
Lara hesitated, then said, "What happened to my father was left unresolved, unfinished. His murderers were never identified, much less caught and tried, and the evidence he spent his last days working on was never found. It didn't have an ending. And until it does..."
"You won't be able to put it behind you," he said.
"No. That's why it's almost a relief to believe the cartel has tracked me down. Something is happening, and that's better than nothing. I wanted you to understand that."
He was silent for a moment, then said, 'I can understand that, Lara." His mouth tightened suddenly as he added, "But you're risking your life needlessly by refusing to contact the authorities."
"I told you. I don't want to be moved again, and that's what they'd do."
"I realize how you feel, but—"
"How can you?" She stared at him with burning eyes. "Have you ever had your roots cut away? Have you had to learn to answer to a strange name? Have you had to divide your life into two parts, and try to forget the first part ever existed?" She drew a shaky breath. "Every face could be an enemy, so you have to hide. You hate the fear, but you can't fight it, can't conquer it—not until there's an ending. And that ending could come tomorrow... or never."
"Lara..."
"It's like being half-alive," she whispered. "And all you can do is wait . In limbo. Like Rapunzel in her damned tower. I can't stand it anymore, Devon. I want my name back, and my life; I can't have either until it's over."
"I'm sorry," he said softly. He was very still.
She regained her control and made her voice even. "So am I. I shouldn't be dumping all this on you. But I haven't been able to talk to anyone about it."
Devon reached out suddenly and pulled her down beside him. He leaned over her, his wide shoulders blocking the sunlight. "I want you to tell me how you feel, honey," he said softly.
She gazed up into his shadowed eyes and knew he was lying. Her pain was a burden to him. She summoned a smile. "Never mind. I'll stop feeling sorry for myself. We should be getting back; you may not have a schedule, but I have a deadline and I need to work this afternoon." It was a lie, but Lara didn't care. Her whole life was a lie. Why balk at one more?
He stared down at her for an instant, something very like frustration tightening his handsome features. Then, with a curse muttered under his breath, he bent his head and kissed her fiercely, as if she were trying to elude him and he could keep her only with the power of his kiss.
Lara knew that she should fight her own response. This extremely complex man baffled her; she had the odd conviction that he was caught up in something beyond his control, just as she was, and that it was tearing him up inside. She was half-afraid to trust him, even though she had; and she tried to remember that some part of him was fighting this.
Yet she knew, with a certainty beyond question, that he needed this, just as she did. The inexplicable bond between them was something neither could fight, as if its roots were embedded too deeply inside them ever to be torn out except at the cost of mortal agony.
And her response came from that affinity, that shared, almost desperate need. She didn't understand it, but she could no more fight it than she could willfully stop breathing.
Her arms crept up around his neck, her fingers twining in the silky strands of his black hair. Her mouth came alive beneath the insistent pressure of his, opening to him. She felt one of his arms slip beneath the small of her back to press her firmly to his
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