Snake's Salvation

by Burke, Aliyah

  Her smile, while sad, came easily. “I’m fine; finish your call.”

  He stroked a hand along her face before stepping away and giving his attention to the man on the phone. She drank the cocoa and ran her tongue over her lips, capturing the last bit of the whipped cream and chocolate shavings, while she placed the mug on the end table.

  The night was cold and wet with sleet that fell in a torrent. She rubbed her belly and leaned against the pole while waiting for the car. Her head pounded, and all she wanted was to get home and crawl between the covers.

  “Anything to get warm.” She scrunched her toes. “And off my feet.”

  “Here you go, Ms. Swann.”

  The valet attendant held the door for her. With a scowl for the weather, she hastened by him, slipping some money in his hand. “Thank you.” Behind the wheel, she clicked her belt and rubbed her belly once more. “Thank God you’re not coming until spring. I don’t want to have to be out in this any more than necessary.” Her tone was kind and teasing.

  She peered out the windshield and waved at her friend, Affrica O’Shea, who stood at the top of the steps leading to the art gallery. With a smile, and it was returned. She held up her fingers, and Etta nodded in understanding of the “call me” sign, put the car in gear and drove away.

  Fighting off a yawn, she slowed down to traverse a few lanes of the interstate to get off at the upcoming exit. The ride home was a familiar thing, which calmed her down. She always got a horrendous case of nerves before a showing.

  At least Affrica had come to support her. Etta loved her for it, coming all the way over from Ireland just to be a friend at her side.

  “Pregnant and alone,” she said, with a wry smile.

  And she was alone, ever since she’d gotten pregnant. Her parents had disowned her. Shamed by her being pregnant, they'd told her never to come back or cross their threshold, again. Scared? Hell yes, but she was determined to make the best of this and create the life for herself, along with the unborn child, that she’d never gotten from her parents.

  Bitter? Perhaps. After all, she’d had a roof over her head and, more often than not, food on her plate. “I’m determined to do better.” She had the money to make it work, and she would be able to remain at home and raise her little girl.

  The sleet increased, and she slowed down even more. The weather was getting worse by the second. As she neared the hill leading up to her house, the flash of headlights streamed across her windshield, and she looked to the other side of the road just in time to see the truck, spin into her.

  The crunch of metal reverberated through her as she screamed. Her world went dark.

  The soft yet incessant beeping broke through the veil of blackness encompassing her. She struggled to open her eyes and groaned.

  “Don’t move.” The lilting Irish accent told her all she needed to know of the speaker. Affrica. “Let me call the doctor.”

  Moments later, Etta was squinting as a relentless penlight shone into her eyes. One at a time. A bunch of routine—or so they claimed—questions flowed by next. Whenever she wanted to close her eyes, Affrica squeezed her hand.

  Words blurred together until she heard the name Suzette. She shook her head and tried to sit up.

  Affrica angled up the bed, and Etta tried to force her question past her mouth. “What about Suzette? My sister?”

  The doctor shared a look with Affrica. Her friend turned to look at her. “She was in the other car, and I’m sorry, but she didn’t make it.”

  The words were there. She knew it. Heard them. Yet, nothing made sense. To Etta, they were just a garbled mess. Affrica worried a lip between her teeth.

  “Tell me,” Etta said, even while deep in her soul, she knew whatever her friend had to impart to her wasn’t good on any level. As the words flowed, her worst nightmare had just become her reality. Closing her eyes, she wished she were dead, as well.

  Sister, dead.

  Unborn baby, dead.

  And she, again, was alone.

  Etta came to with a gasp. She looked around, noting it was afternoon. Her heart pounded hard, and she prayed it would slow soon.

  Christ, it had been so long since she’d had that particular memory. Tears swam before her eyes, and she blinked them away. Time had passed; she’d moved on. Hadn’t she?

  Where was Jason? Better question, why was she in the guest room on the bed? Swinging her feet to the floor, she walked quietly up the hall to his room.

  Jason lay sprawled on the bed, on his back. One arm up over his head and the sheet bunched along his waist, hiding the lower half of his body from her eager gaze. The late afternoon light streamed in through the window, setting his skin aglow along with the dancing particles floating amongst the beams.

  She paused by the door and turned back to grab the pad she’d seen on the desk in the third room. Then, pencil in hand, she sat in the large chair cattycorner to the bed and began to sketch. Capturing him in the way she wanted him to know she saw him, if he ever saw the drawing. This was the look she’d been searching for.

  Relaxed. At peace. Soon, the only sound in the room was the swipe of her pencil on the paper. It wasn’t her usual drawing pad paper; instead, it was off a legal pad from his desk. Soon, she had her gaze strictly on the paper in her lap. She worked on his mouth, making sure to soften it just a bit, for that’s how she saw him. Beyond the wall and unmovable warrior he portrayed to everyone else.

  “How long have you been sitting there?”

  She looked up at his deep voice breaking the silence. Placing the pencil down, she shrugged lightly. “Not really sure, I lost track of time.”

  He slowly sat up, and she allowed herself a leisurely perusal of his upper torso. This man is a work of art. Good Lord, I could stare at him all day just for fun then even longer just to draw him. She had two drawings of him, and she would add them to her collection.

  It had been wonderful to have the paper in hand and sketch. She bit the inside of her cheek and shoved the memories back to where she wanted to keep them forever.

  “Come here,” he said, beckoning to her.

  She rose from the seat and walked to him. This may be the end of their time together, and she wanted to enjoy what he offered to her. His large hand closed around hers, and her heart skipped a few beats as he drew her down to lie with him on the bed. The moment his lips touched hers, everything else fell away.

  Chapter Six

  Jason nodded and took the beer from the blonde waitress who carried a tray to their table. He gazed around the group and felt back in his element. The men with him had or still did serve in the military. They were part of the Megalodon Team, or had been at one point in time.

  Scott, Tyson, Ross, Aidrian, and Ernst. Men otherwise known as Harrier, Cade, Jeb, Hondo, and Ghost.

  “Can’t tell you how glad we are you’re considering joining us, Snake,” Cade said. He drank some beer and leaned back in his chair. “You were one hell of a leader.”

  “If I was, my men would still be alive,” Jason replied, bitterness coating his tongue.

  “We are put in difficult situations and are expected to do miracles with what we have. It doesn’t always turn out proper and how we wish it would have.” The Irish lilt coming from the black man at the table amazed him. Hondo spoke with an extremely confident air.

  Jason drank his beer. “I know, its war. Still don’t make the loss any easier.”

  “Not supposed to.” This from the blond with the palest blue of eyes, Ghost. “If it was easy then we would be robots. Not human.”

  “Agreed,” the thick drawl of the next man had Jason looking at him. “Shit happens.”

  “I know it does. Like you said, it still doesn’t make it any easier.”

  Scott shifted on his chair, and the others fell silent. “He was your friend. More than that, he was your best friend. You go into it knowing death is an option, but you never believe it will be your best friend. The question now is, will you allow that loss to dictate t
he rest of your life, or will you honor his memory by actually living your life instead of merely existing? Find someone to spend it with. Be happy and worthy of the sacrifice he made.”

  Jason wasn’t upset by the words; these were men who’d gone into situations as he had, well aware they may never make it home themselves. Not to mention they’d hit the nail on the head. He was doing a disservice to Rocks by his action.

  Had been. Then, along came Etta.

  The muttering by the group with him snapped his attention from thoughts of her. “What?”

  “So,” Ross said with a grin. “Who is she?”

  For the first time in a long while, with the exception of being with Etta, Jason remembered what it was like to be part of something greater than himself. To be part of a team. To be with friends.

  αβ

  Back in Lindsey, he headed straight for Etta’s place, anxious to share his news with her. He knocked and frowned when there was no answer. Her car wasn’t in the drive, and he knocked once more. Still nothing.

  “Maybe she went shopping.” He walked down to his truck and leaned against the hood while taking in the sleepy town he’d grown up in.

  “Mr. La Rue, what are you doing over here? Don’t you have a home on the other side of town?”

  “Mrs. Prima.” Town gossip. He tipped his head in her direction. “How are you doing today?”

  She walked toward him, her grip on her cane unwavering. “Me? I’m fine, I’m fine. A bit sad but fine.”

  His manners had him asking. “What’s there to be sad about?”

  “I’m missing a friend. I really thought Etta would be sticking around, but now that she’s gone, well, the entire town feels different in a way.” She shrugged. “I suppose I should be used to it, by now; people come and they go. I’d just hoped she’d be one to stay.”

  His body grew cold. “Etta’s gone?”

  Her nod sank his feet into cement. “She left a few days ago. Just packed up her car and drove away.”

  “She didn’t leave anything behind? Like where she was going?”

  “No, sorry. I asked, but she just said it was time she moved on.”

  He made his excuses with Mrs. Prima and drove home. Jason rubbed his chest, the ache in there not shrinking.

  She’d left when he’d gone to Georgia for the follow up. Numb, he moved through his house and paused when he saw a legal pad on his chair in his bedroom. Bending down to pick it up, he viewed the top item, and his brows drew together.

  “Sketches?”

  He flipped through them and paused at the last one. Jason stared at the likeness of himself. He lay on the bed, asleep. It was his facial expression that struck hard. He looked at peace.

  His phone rang, and he grabbed it up as he lingered over the drawing she’d done. “Yes?”

  “Wanted to check if you’d made it home.”

  He smiled, despite the pain in his chest. “I did, Dad, thanks.”

  Scott laughed. “I know you’ve not made up your mind, yet, but if you have, can you let me know? We have a situation that I could use you for.”

  His fingers gripped the paper as if he could feel Etta’s curves beneath his touch. “I want to help but—” he stared at the sketch— “I have to find someone.”

  “This your Etta?”

  “Yes.” How the man had known, Jason wasn’t sure. “She left Lindsay without a word.”

  “Want me to ask Affrica where she thinks she’d go?”

  “Affrica?”

  “Hondo’s sister. They know each other. He remembered that later on when he was looking at some of her art.”

  Another glance to the item in his hand. “Art?”

  Harrier laughed lightly. “Loretta Swann is an artist.”

  Jason frowned and sat on the nearest chair. After all this time, had he really not been paying attention to things about her? Or was it more that she had spent more time getting me to open up?

  “Snake?”

  “Yes, sorry, Captain. I have no wish to—”

  “You’re part of Tungsten, we have the ability. You go; we’ll have her location when you come back. You don’t want to go, and I’ll still call Aidrian, and he can find out a way to get the information to you.”

  “You’re willing to do that?”

  “Of course. I wasn’t lying, Snake. None of us were when we said we have your back. The way you spoke about her told us all we need to know. We all had to go get our women. We’ll help you.”

  He wanted Etta. Back in his arms. And if they could help him find her, he was all for the assistance.

  “Where do you need me and when?”

  αβ

  Four months later, he returned to Lindsay to find a letter square in the middle of his dining room table. Dropping his bag on the floor, he rolled his shoulder, smiling a bit at the lingering ache. Being back out in the field had been good for his soul. He still felt lost and wanted Etta beside him.

  He lifted the letter, slid his finger beneath the seal, and opened it. A single folded sheet sat in there. With a yawn, he unfolded it and read the few words on the page.

  Pensacola

  crown art studio

  Jason shook his head in slight amusement. They had promised him help in finding her, and they had come through.

  He showered swiftly, grabbed another go bag, and headed to his truck, one destination in mind. When he arrived in Florida, he felt more rested than he had a right to given the drive. Sure, he still ached, but it was manageable. After all, he would soon be back with Etta.

  With a check to his watch, he strode up to the door and entered the gallery. Soft music played throughout the establishment. A tall, svelte woman walked into view, her black dress and stilettos designed to draw the eye of the patron.

  A slight smile lifted thin lips, and she moved toward him, a not so subtle sway to her hips. “Welcome to Crown Art Studio.” She touched one perfectly manicured hand to her breasts, which seemed ready to pop free the moment she took more than a slight inhalation. “I’m Ava. Is there something specific I could assist you in finding?”

  “Loretta Swann.”

  She drew up slightly, brow converging. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m looking for Loretta Swann. Is she here today?”

  She ran her gaze over him, slowly and with more than a hint of invitation in her blue eyes. “Not right now. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “No. When will she come back?”

  She slid closer, her perfume a cloying scent that made him want to step back. “If you’re looking for some art work, I can help. Loretta doesn’t show art.”

  Jason didn’t like the hint of condescension in her tone. “Nothing you have could possibly interest me. I’ll be back later.”

  He left.

  The sun was setting when he returned to the studio. The blonde was assisting someone else, although she paused to welcome him in. He cocked a brow, and she gestured subtly to the back. With a nod in thanks, he wove through the displayed artwork until he reached a door marked “Employees Only”.

  He pushed through and pulled up short. Seated at the work table, was Etta. Her back was to him as she cataloged some items.

  “Hello, Etta.”

  Etta blinked and stared at the paper lying on the scarred wood before her. This had to be all her imagination, for she sure as hell was hearing Jason’s voice. Placing the pencil down, she pivoted on the stool and inhaled sharply.

  Damn him. Damn him for looking so handsome. Well-worn jeans and a long sleeve Henley which highlighted the strength in his upper body. Three-day scruff lined his jaw, and she wanted nothing more than to touch him. Run her hands along his face, indulge in the differences of their skin. His rough to her soft. The need for tactile sensation, with him, rode over her like a rogue wave. His black hair hung forward in his face, one eye partially covered.

  “Jason.”

  His name slid from her tongue, and her gut tightened with uncertainty.

  He closed t
he door behind him and walked toward her. His body moved with a sinewy grace, which never failed to capture her full attention. Jason leaned forward, bracing her in between his arms. His masculine scent wafted around her, filling her nose and making her recall what it was like to be near him and in his embrace. Safe. Protected.

  “So, here’s a funny story. I come back from a meeting with my new employer and try to find my girlfriend, only to discover she was gone. Up and left town without a single word to me. No forwarding address or anything.”

  She blinked. Girlfriend? Is that how he viewed her?

  He leaned closer still. Her body trembled at the prospect of touching him once more.

  “How then did you find me?”

  His eyes caressed her face as he took one section of hair in hand. “Why did you leave, Etta? I thought we had something.”

  This is why I wanted to leave when he was gone—to avoid having to talk about it. She worked hard to shore up the walls surrounding her painful memories. Unfortunately, Jason seemed to know what she attempted to do.

  “No,” he whispered. “You don’t get to pull from me. We need to talk, and I don’t want to do it here, but I will. If that’s what has to happen, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “I have a few more hours of work ahead of me.”

  He blinked at her. “I’ll wait.”

  That two-word response had her tightening her legs and shifting slightly on the stool. “There’s not anything for you to do.” Being this close to him was breaking her heart.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She rotated back around and stared at the paperwork in front of her. After putting words down on two lines, she licked her lips and lifted her head. Jason had moved to the other side of the workspace and had taken a seat. His gaze flickered to her lips then back to her eyes.

  “You mentioned a new job?” she asked, needing something to fill the silence. A quiet she had been okay with, but when Jason was across from her—hell, in the same room as her—the need to have his deep timbre filling the air came over her.