Caress Part Three (Arcadia Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

and gone to jail. But at least he’d be alive.
    He couldn’t be, of course. I knew that. I’d seen the
video--too many times until I’d finally managed to stop torturing myself with
it. I hadn’t looked at it in years but it replayed right then in my mind.
    The pier beside the Hudson River, the gun raised to his
head, the sudden spray of red and the body toppling into the dark water.
    His remains had never been found but there still could
hardly be more definitive proof of John Whittaker’s end.
    My father was dead. What I thought I’d seen the previous day
was nothing more than a hallucination.
    It had to be. Didn’t it?
    I was hardly aware that I’d changed course until I found
myself in front of the bagel shop once again. Even on a Monday afternoon,
people were streaming in and out. I stood for a few minutes, watching them,
before I noticed the alley nearby.
    A sudden memory flashed through my mind: I was not more than
six years old, on one of our regular excursions to the bagel shop with my
father. For some reason, I broke away from him and raced into the alley.
    He followed, retrieving me, and had a few firm words to say
about the foolishness of doing such a thing. With my hand once again snugly in
his, we’d gone on about our business, my child self comforted by the knowledge
that he would always come after me and keep me safe.
    The sun was slanting westward, casting shadows into the
depths of the alley. As I stared through the haze of memory, something stirred
within it.
    A shape. Emerging only part way from the darkness, as though
hesitant to dare the light.
    Taking form, becoming familiar.
    My breath caught and my heart slammed against my ribs. A
voice screamed in my head: This can’t be. Go! Run! To Lucas, to sanity, to
the future!
    But I stayed, frozen in place, unable to take a step until,
with a faint smile, my father raised a hand and beckoned to me.

Chapter Six
     

Lucas
     
    I sagged back in my desk chair and groaned. The usual round
of Monday morning staff meetings was over--finally. It had even gone off
without a snag, no thanks to me.
    As nearly as I could figure, ninety percent of my brain was
taken up with thoughts of Emma. The rest was entirely focused on pumping blood
straight to my cock.
    My hard-on got so bad that I considered taking advantage of
a few unscheduled minutes to pop into my private washroom and give myself some
relief. Only stubborn pride kept me from doing so.
    Not. Pussy. Whipped.
    Nope, not me.
    I was just living proof that you can’t keep a good dick
down.
    The fact that I laughed at my own pitiful joke was the
clearest possible evidence of how far gone I was.
    My assistant popped his head into the office just then to
ask if I wanted lunch. I allowed as to how that would be good while thinking
that what I really wanted was a nooner.
    Too bad that wasn’t in the cards. Emma was having lunch with
my sister and sister-in-law. She’d been nervous about going, which I thought
was adorable. Caroline and Imogene both obviously liked her. I knew they’d put
her at ease but I also wouldn’t put it past them to pump her for information
about our relationship.
    Maybe not Imogene so much but Caro sure as hell would. I
made a mental note to touch base with my sister later and find out if she’d
gotten more out of Emma than I could.
    She still hadn’t told me what happened to make her look like
she’d seen a ghost. I’d been tempted to press her on it a dozen times and more
all through course of the previous day and into the night. But after our
session in the kitchen, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
    She’d seemed too fragile, somehow, although that wasn’t a word
I’d normally associate with Emma. She was easily one of the bravest and most
resilient people I’d ever encountered. But now I had the sense of her drawing a
protective shell around herself and curling up inside it.
    As much as I resented that, the last thing I wanted to do
was cause her more pain.