Free Always You by Crystal Hubbard Page B

recognized her at first when she’d let him into her suite. Her deep brown eyes had seemed to shine a bit too brightly; her full, luscious lips had pulled into a brittle, anxious smile. Even her body language had been all wrong. She was the smallest of the Winters sisters at a neat five-feet and two inches, but she’d always seemed taller and mightier and moved with the elegant power of a trained dancer. Tonight, she seemed to have collapsed in on herself a bit.
    John shifted her in his arms. Chiara’s arms and legs tightened around him, as though in sleep she was afraid he would let her go. He kissed the top of her head and locked his hands together around her shoulder, mutely assuring her that he wasn’t going anywhere.
    Chiara’s head moved, settling more comfortably on the hard muscle of John’s chest. She knew he wasn’t sleeping. As often as they’d shared a bed, she could tell when he was sleeping and when he was awake. Sleep pulled at her, but she forced her eyes to remain open, to stare unblinking at the patterns the reflections of the falling snow made on the pale duvet cover. Her problem had brought John to her, and now it was keeping him from getting a good night’s sleep. It wasn’t fair for her to doze when he was surely turning her situation over in his mind.
    John’s steadiness, his calmness and his generosity with her had been a constant source of strength for her through the years. In some ways, he was the flip side of herself. Where she might have sat in the wing chair all night tearing at her fingernails in sick anxiety, John had eased back her fears with his silent acceptance of them. He’d stripped off her nightshirt and black panties and settled her into bed before piling his own clothes on top of hers and joining her there. He’d held her, covering her legs with one of his, allowing her to nestle into the solid warmth of him. He used his body to cloak her from the chill night and the scary things it contained.
    Heart to heart and belly to belly, at that moment John had no interest in sharing anything more physical with her, other than his need to protect her. And Chiara selfishly drank up every bit of it even as tiny sharp claws of guilt tore at her at the thought of what she might have gotten him into, all because she couldn’t pull Zhou’s troubles out of him before they left Tokyo.
    Zhou’s actions were stuck in a permanent loop in her head. With each replay, she tried to discern what had caused him to fall apart as he had, but nothing he’d said helped. Nothing other than his warnings about Emmitt Grayson.
    He watches…he listens…he spies…
    The words echoed in Chiara’s head until they became a sinister sigh ushering her into a troubled, broken sleep.

Chapter Five
    No sooner had Chiara shoved her key into the deadbolt on her mother’s front door than the door swung open, revealing Abby Winters in full battle regalia. She had one of her everyday, utility aprons cinched around her waist instead of the festive holiday one she’d worn on Christmas Eve. Both fists were balled on her hips, a long wooden spoon clutched in the left one. Her right foot, dressed in the old pink slippers she wore around the house, bounced up and down like a metronome counting out the beats of her anger.
    “Where’ve you been?” she demanded.
    Chiara couldn’t tell if the hectic roses in her mother’s deep brown cheeks were the result of her temper or the hot stove she’d likely just abandoned.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Winters,” John said smoothly, stepping into view on the front porch. “Merry Christmas.”
    John’s presence flipped the right switch. At the sight of him, Abby replaced her frown with a wide, easy smile. She hugged him and accepted a kiss high on her cheekbone. Abby wrapped her arms around one of his and drew him into the house. She continued her tirade against Chiara, but softened it for John’s benefit.
    “I called the girls down for breakfast and they said they hadn’t