"Yes, Mom. It's sitting on the counter next to me."
"Did you add anything extra? It's good just the way I make it."
I giggled. "No, Mom. It's your sauce."
"Why are you eating so late?"
"I'm on West Coast time."
"Still, it's nine there. You shouldn't eat so late."
"I work late," I said with a smile.
"They're not keeping you too busy at work, are they?"
"I'm keeping me too busy. I like it that way though. You know that."
"You're not walking alone at night, are you?"
"Yes!" I teased. "In just my underwear!"
"Liis!" she scolded.
I laughed out loud, and it felt good. It seemed as if I hadn't smiled in a long time.
"Liis?" she said, concern in her voice.
"I'm here."
"Are you homesick?"
"Just for you guys. Tell Daddy I say hi."
"Patrick? Patrick! Liis says hello."
I could hear my father from somewhere in the room. "Hi, baby! Miss you! Be good!"
"He started the fish oil pills this week. Gives him gas," she said.
I could hear the scowl in her voice, and I laughed again.
"I miss you both. Good-bye, Mom."
I pressed the End button with my pinkie, and then I added in the chicken and cabbage. Just before adding the pea pods and sauce, someone knocked on the door. I waited, thinking I'd imagined it, but the knocking happened again, louder this time.
"Oh no. Oh, crap," I said to myself, turning the heat almost all the way down.
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and jogged to the door. I peeked through the peephole, and then I scrambled to open the chain and bolt lock, grabbing at it like a madwoman.
"Thomas," I whispered, unable to hide my utter shock.
He was standing there in a plain white T-shirt and workout shorts. He hadn't even taken the time to put on shoes, gauging by his bare feet.
He began to speak but thought better of it.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"It smells good in there," he said, taking a whiff.
"Yeah." I turned toward the kitchen. "Stir-fry. I have plenty, if you're hungry."
"It's just you?" he asked, looking past me.
I chuckled. "Of course it's just me. Who else would be here?"
He stared at me for several seconds. "You're wearing my hoodie."
I looked down. "Oh. Do you want it back?"
He shook his head. "No. No way. I just didn't realize you still wore it."
"I wear it a lot. It makes me feel better sometimes."
"I, uh...needed to speak to you. The office is buzzing about your outburst."
"Just mine? I'm the emotional one because I'm a woman. Typical," I muttered.
"Liis, you spoke in Japanese at the office. Everyone knows."
I blanched. "I'm sorry. I was upset, and I...shit."
"The S.A.C. gave the green light to move forward with the plan to remove Grove."
"Good." I hugged my middle, feeling vulnerable.
"But they haven't found him."
"What? What about Sawyer? I thought he was the Master of Surveillance. Doesn't he keep tabs on Grove?"
"Sawyer's out there, looking for Grove now. Don't worry. Sawyer will find him. Do you...do you want me to stay with you?"
I looked at him. His expression was begging me to say yes. I wanted him here, but it would only mean long conversations that would lead to arguments, and we were both tired of fighting.
I shook my head. "No, I'll be okay."
The skin around his eyes softened. He took a step and reached up, cupping each side of my face. He gazed into my eyes, his inner conflict swirling in his twin hazel-green pools.
"Fuck it," he said. He leaned in and touched his lips to mine.
I dropped the dish towel and reached up to grip his T-shirt in my fists, but he was in no hurry to leave. He took his time tasting me, feeling the warmth of our mouths melding together. His lips were confident and commanding but giving way as my mouth pressed against them. Just when I thought he might pull away, he wrapped both arms around me.
Thomas kissed me as if he had needed me for ages, and at the same time, he kissed me good-bye. It was longing and sadness and anger, twisted but controlled, in a sweet soft kiss. When he finally released me, I felt myself leaning forward, needing more.
He blinked a few times. "I tried not to. I'm sorry."
Then, he walked away.
"No, it's...it's fine," I said to an empty hallway.
I closed the door and leaned against it, still tasting him. Where I stood still smelled like him. For the first time since I'd moved in, my apartment didn't feel like a sanctuary or the representation of my independence. It just felt lonely. The stir-fry didn't smell as good as it had minutes before. I looked over at the girls in the Takato painting, remembering that Thomas had helped me hang them--not even they could make me feel better.
I stomped over to the stovetop, switched it off, and grabbed my purse and keys.
The elevator seemed to be taking an extraordinary amount of time to reach the lobby, and I bounced in anticipation. I needed out of the building, out from under Thomas's condo. I needed to be sitting in front of Anthony with a Manhattan in my hand, forgetting about Grove and Thomas and what I'd refused to let myself have.
I looked both ways and crossed the street in wide strides, but just as I reached the sidewalk, a large hand encircled my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
"Where the hell are you going?" Thomas asked.
I yanked back my arm and shoved him away. He barely moved, but I still covered my mouth and then held my hands at my chest.
"Oh God! I'm sorry! It was a knee-jerk reaction."
Thomas frowned. "You can't just go walking around alone right now, Liis, not until we get a location on Grove."
A couple stood ten feet away on the corner, waiting for the light to change. Other than that, we were alone.
I puffed out a breath of relief, my heart still racing. "You can't just go around grabbing people like that. You're lucky you didn't end up like drunk Joe."
Thomas's smile slowly stretched across his face. "Sorry. I heard your door slam, and I was worried you'd risk going outside because of me."
"Possibly," I said, ashamed.
Thomas braced himself, already hurting over his next words. "I'm not trying to make you miserable. You'd think I could stay busy enough just doing that to myself."
My face fell. "I don't want you to be miserable. But that's what this is--miserable."
"Then"--he reached out for me--"let's go back. We can talk about this all night if you want. I'll explain it as many times as you want. We can lay down some ground rules. I pushed too hard before. I see that now. We can take it slow. We can compromise."
I had never wanted something so much in my life. "No."
"No?" he said, devastated. "Why?"
My eyes glossed over, and I looked down, forcing tears to spill down my cheeks. "Because I want it so bad, and that scares me so much."
The quick onset of emotion surprised me, but it set off something in Thomas.
"Baby, look at me," he said, using his thumb to gently lift my chin until our eyes met. "It can't be any worse together than it is apart."
"But we're at an impasse. We have the same argument over and over. We just have to get over it."
Thomas shook his head.
"You're still trying to get over Camille," I thought aloud, "and it might take a while, but it's possible. And no one gets everything they want, right?"
"I don't just want you, Liis. I need you. That doesn't go away."
He pinched the sides of my shirt and touched his forehead to mine. He smelled so good, musky and clean. Just the tiny touch of his fingers on my clothes made me want to melt into him.
I scanned his eyes, unable to respond.
"You want me to say that I'm over her? I'm over her," he said, his voic
e growing more desperate with every word.
I shook my head, glancing down the dark street. "I don't just want you to say it. I want it to be true."
"Liis." He waited until I looked up at him. "Please believe me. I did love someone before, but I have never loved anyone the way I love you."
I sank into him, letting him wrap his arms around me. I allowed myself to let go, to give control to whatever forces had brought us to that place. I had two choices. I could walk away from Thomas and somehow tolerate the heartache I felt every day from being without him. Or I could take a huge risk on just faith with no predictions, calculations, or certainty.
Thomas loved me. He needed me. Maybe I wasn't the first woman he'd loved, and maybe the kind of love a Maddox man felt lasted forever, but I needed him, too. I wasn't the first, but I would be the last. That didn't make me the second prize. It made me his forever.
A loud popping noise echoed from across the dim street. The brick behind me splintered into a hundred pieces in every direction.
I turned and looked up, seeing a small cloud of dust floating in the air above my left shoulder and a hole in the brick.
"What the hell?" Thomas asked. His eyes took in every window above us and then settled on the empty road between us and our building.
Grove strode across the street with his arm outstretched in front of him, holding a Bureau-issued pistol in his trembling hand. Thomas angled himself in a protective stance, covering my body with his.
He glowered at our assailant. "Put your sidearm on the ground, Grove, and I won't fucking kill you."
Grove halted, only twenty yards and a parallel-parked car between us. "I saw you sprinting out of your building to catch Agent Lindy--in your bare feet. I doubt you thought to grab your gun. Did you tuck it into your shorts before you left?"
For a greasy-looking, pudgy, short man, he was awfully condescending.
Grove's mustache twitched, and he smiled, revealing a mouthful of teeth well on their way to rotting. It was true. Evil ate people from the inside out.
"You sold me out, Lindy," Grove sneered.
"It was me," Thomas said, slowly bending his elbows to hold up his hands. "I brought her here because I was suspicious of your intel."
Two men walked around the corner and froze.
"Oh, shit!" one of them said before they spun around and ran back the way they'd come.
I slowly reached into my purse, using Thomas's body to hide my movement.
Grove's gun went off, and Thomas jerked. He looked down and held his hand to his lower right abdomen.
"Thomas?" I shrieked.
He grunted, but refused to move out of the way. "You're not walking away from this," Thomas said, his voice strained. "Those guys are calling the police right now. But you can flip, Grove. Give us the information you have on Yakuza."
Grove's eyes glossed over. "I'm dead anyway. Stupid bitch," he said, aiming his gun again.
I raised my hand between Thomas's arm and his torso, and fired my gun. Grove fell to his knees, a red circle darkening the front pocket of his white button-down. He fell onto his side, and then Thomas turned, grunting.
"How bad is it?" I asked, scrambling to pull up his shirt.
Blood was pouring from his wound, pushing out thick crimson with every beat of his heart.
"Fuck," Thomas said through his teeth.
I slid my gun into the back of my jeans while Thomas removed his T-shirt. He wadded it up and pressed it against his wound.
"You should lie down. It'll slow the bleeding," I said, dialing 911 on my cell phone.
The same two men from before peeked around the corner, and once they saw it was safe, they came out. "Are you okay, man?" one of them asked. "We called the cops. They're on their way."
I hung up the phone. "They got the call. They're coming."
As if on cue, sirens wailed from just a few short blocks away.
I smiled at Thomas. "You're going to be all right, okay?"
"Hell yes," he said, his voice strained. "I finally got you back. One bullet isn't going to fuck that up."
"Here," the other guy said, taking off his shirt. "You might go into shock, dude."
Thomas took a step, reaching for the shirt, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Grove raise his gun, pointing it directly at me.
"Shit!" one of the guys yelled.
Before I had time to react, Thomas leaped in front of me, shielding me with his body. We were facing each other when the pop went off, and Thomas jerked again.
"He's down again! I think he's dead!" one of the men said, pointing to Grove.
I looked around Thomas to see the two guys cautiously approach Grove, and then one kicked his gun away.
"He's not breathing!"
Thomas fell to his knees, a shocked look on his face, and then he dropped to his side. His head hit the sidewalk with a loud knock.
"Thomas?" I shrieked. "Thomas!" Tears blurred my vision as they welled up in my eyes.
My hands checked him over. He had a bullet wound on his lower back, three inches from his spine. Blood oozed up through the hole and spilled out onto the sidewalk.
Thomas whispered something, and I bent down to hear him.
"What?"
"Exit wound," he whispered.
I pulled him back to look at his front. He had matching gunshot wounds, one on each side of his lower abdomen. One was on his right side from the first time Grove had shot him, and another was on the opposite side.
"This one's clean," I said. "Went straight through."
I paused. An exit wound.
Pain blazed from my midsection, and I looked down. A red stain had spread on my shirt. The bullet had gone straight through Thomas and into me. Yanking at my shirt, I pulled it up to reveal blood oozing steadily from a small hole on my right lower chest, just beneath my ribs.
My blurry vision hadn't been from tears but from blood loss. I slumped next to Thomas, still keeping pressure on his wound with one hand and on mine with the other.
The sirens seemed farther away instead of closer. The neighborhood began to spin, and I collapsed onto my stomach.
"Liis," he said, turning onto his back to face me. His skin was pale and sweaty. "Stay with me, baby. They're coming."
The cold sidewalk felt good against my cheek. A heaviness came over me, an exhaustion unlike anything I'd ever felt before.
"I love you," I whispered with my last remaining strength.
A tear fell from the corner of my eye, crossed the bridge of my nose, and then dripped to our concrete bed, mixing with the red mess beneath us.
Thomas let go of the T-shirt, and with a weak hand, he reached for me, his eyes glossing over. "I love you."
I couldn't move, but I could feel his fingers touching mine, and they intertwined.
"Hang on," he said. He frowned. "Liis?"
I wanted to talk, to blink, to do anything to calm his fears, but nothing moved. I could see the panic in his eyes as life slipped away from me, but I was helpless.
"Liis!" he cried, a weak yell.
The corners of my vision darkened, and then it swallowed me whole. I sank into nothingness, a quiet loneliness where I could rest and be still.
Then, the world exploded--bright lights, commands, beeping in my ears, and pinches on my hands and arms.
Strange voices called my name.
I blinked. "Thomas?" My voice was muffled by the oxygen mask over my nose and mouth.
"She's back!" a woman said, standing over me.
The concrete bed beneath me was now a firm mattress. The room was white, making the spotlight overhead seem that much brighter.
I heard answers about my blood pressure, pulse, and oxygenation but none about my neighbor, my partner, the man I loved.
"Liis?" A woman stood over me, shielding the light from my eyes. She smiled. "Welcome back."
My lips struggled to form around the words I wanted to say.
The woman brushed my hair from my face, still squeezing the bag
attached to my oxygen mask, the hissing noise next to my ear.
As if she could read my mind, she gestured with a nod behind her. "He's in surgery. He's doing great. The surgeon says he'll be just fine."
I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall down my temples into my ears.
"You have friends in the waiting room--Val, Charlie, and Joel."
I looked up at her and frowned. Finally, I realized Charlie and Joel were Sawyer and Marks.
"Susan just left to let them know you're stable. They can come back in a bit. Try to rest."
My muffled voice garbled my words.
"What?" she asked, lifting the mask.
"You don't call family, do you?" I said, surprised at how weak my own voice sounded.
"Not unless you request it."
I shook my head, and she reached across the bed before putting a lighter mask over my nose and mouth. A hissing came from inside.
"Deep breaths, please," she said, leaving my line of sight, as she adjusted the equipment surrounding me. "You're going to have to go upstairs later, but the doctor wants to get your stats up first."
I looked around, feeling groggy. My eyes blinked a few times, almost in slow motion. My body felt heavy again, and I drifted off for a moment before jerking awake.
"Whoa!" Val said, jumping up from her chair.
I was in a different room. This one had paintings of floral bouquets hanging on the walls.
"Where's Thomas?" I asked, my throat feeling like I'd swallowed gravel.
Val smiled and nodded up once. I looked over, seeing Thomas sleeping soundly. The rails had been lowered, and our hospital beds had been pushed together. Thomas's hand was covering mine.
"He had to pull some serious strings to make this happen," Val said. "Are you okay?"
I smiled at Val, but her face had darkened with worry.
"I don't know yet," I said, wincing.
Val picked up the call button and pressed it.
"How can I help you?" a nasally voice said.
The volume had been turned down so low that I could barely hear it.
Val raised the plastic remote closer to her mouth, so she could whisper, "She's awake."
"I'll let her nurse know."
Val gently patted my knee. "Stephanie will be in with your pain meds soon. She's been awesome. I think she's in love with Thomas."
"Isn't everyone?" Sawyer said from a dark corner.
"Hey, Charlie," I said, using the remote to sit up a bit.
He and Marks were sitting on opposite sides of the room.
Sawyer frowned. "You've already died once in the last twenty-four hours. Don't make me kill you again."
I giggled and then held my breath. "Damn, that hurts. I can't imagine what two feels like. Thomas probably won't be able to move when he wakes up." I looked over at him and squeezed his hand.
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