by Cynthia Eden
“You know it takes a lot to stop me.” Because of whatever had been done to him. A science experiment gone so wrong.
Her gaze searched his. “I was looking out the window. And I saw people—families, couples—they’re walking down the street. Laughing. Shopping. Christmas is just a few days away.”
His brow furrowed. Where was she going with this?
“I woke up, I woke up safe and alive and in your arms—and I realized I haven’t been fair to you.”
“Shelly—”
“I wasn’t celebrating Christmas because it hurt me to remember the past. It hurt to remember what I lost. But you’ve lost more than I have. And you still keep going. You keep fighting. You don’t give up.”
He would never give up on her.
“And I won’t give up, either,” she promised. She gave him a quick smile. “Things haven’t been fair to you, but I’m going to change that. I just, I swear, I almost feel like Scrooge. In the story, when he looks out the window and realizes that he didn’t miss Christmas? That’s me, right now. I looked out the window, I looked out the window and realized there was still time.” Her words were coming faster now. “Because of you, I still have time. We have time. The past is gone, but we can start new. We can make new memories. We can make better memories, and we can do it together.”
“You’re not Scrooge,” John told her, even as he felt his own lips kick into a slow smile.
Her gaze held his. “But you are my Christmas.”
That was…shit, now his chest was aching, right beneath her touch.
“I didn’t miss you. I didn’t miss the chance to know you. I won’t miss anything with you again. And I’m not going to drag you down into pain and sadness with me. It’s not fair,” she said again. “Instead, we’re going to celebrate. We are going to be happy. Just like all of those people out on the street. We are going to be—”
His arms wrapped around her. John pulled Shelly up against him. He lifted her and held her easily as his mouth took hers. Not in a fierce, demanding kiss, but soft. Caressing. Tender. With her, he could be tender.
“Happy,” she whispered against his mouth. “We’re going to be happy.”
He was happy right the hell then. What he’d been through, the damn lab, the battles, they didn’t matter. He had her. “You don’t need to pretend for me.” He knew how much she hurt. “I don’t need whatever you think those people outside have. I don’t need—”
“You need to make good memories. And memories are what I want to give to you.”
He slowly lowered her until her feet touched the floor. “Baby…”
Her smile lit her face. Made her eyes shine. Made him want to give her the absolute world. “Will you have Christmas with me, John?” Shelly asked him, the words coming in a fast, eager rush.
Hell, yes. Didn’t the woman get it? He’d do anything, give her anything. He cleared his throat and said, “I think that maybe we should start with a tree.”
And if anything, her smile became even bigger.
Right then, everything made sense to him. And he realized that Devin—dead bastard that he was—the guy had been right about one thing.
John did love Shelly. He didn’t know when it had happened, but he knew why she’d been the one person he remembered. Why she was able to crack through the darkness in his mind and give him slivers of his past.
Because what he felt for her went beyond the moment. It went beyond just a memory. She’d worked her way into his heart. His soul.
And she was always going to stay there.
Chapter Twelve
“Is the tree okay?” Shelly asked as she tilted her head and studied the slightly…well, sickly tree that was left in the lot. Christmas was right around the corner, so she shouldn’t have been surprised by the slim pickings left in town.
But she didn’t want John to be disappointed. She was absolutely determined to give him the best possible holiday. After all, what else could she give him? He’d done so much for her, she owed him something magical in return.
Only the tree didn’t exactly look magical.
Shelly glanced over her shoulder. John was standing next to the red and white entrance post for the tree lot. A post that had been painted to resemble a candy cane. Christmas lights covered the top of the post, blinking in a slow rhythm.
“Perfect,” John told her quietly. Only, he wasn’t look at the tree. He was looking at her.
Shelly felt her cheeks burn. “It’s really not.” And the tree was definitely not what she’d had in mind for their first Christmas together. For the first Christmas that John would ever remember. Things had already been bad enough with the attacks and the fire and Devin’s death. She just wanted to turn things around so badly.
“Ah, Ms. Shelly?” The owner of the tree lot sidled closer to her as he sensed a sale. “Want me to have that delivered up to your cabin?”
The owner was a real sweetheart of a man named Jebidiah Crow. He knew what had happened at her place—all of the locals did, and everyone was treating her with extra kindness. They made her feel safe. They made her feel loved.
They made her feel like things were going to get better.
“We absolutely want that tree,” John said before Shelly could reply. He stalked forward. His hand caught hers, and he threaded his fingers with hers. She was wearing gloves, hoping to protect the blisters and cuts on her fingers. His hands were bare. But she could feel the warmth of his touch through her glove. “And we’d very much appreciate it if you took it to the cabin for us.”
Because they’d been given the all-clear by Blane. They could go back to the cabin. The remains of the garage were roped off, Blane had told them that he had yellow tape all around the place. But they could enter the cabin once more.
No more sleeping over Sammy’s bar.
“Let’s go for a walk,” John murmured. His gaze was so watchful on her.
She gave him a quick smile and tried to forget about the tree and its bald spots. She had plenty of ornaments at the cabin. She could hide those spots. She could make things work.
She would make it work.
A school chorus group was stationed on the corner, all the kids dressed in matching red tops and wearing Santa hats. They were singing as she and John passed them, and the sound was so sweet and happy. The kids didn’t look afraid. They didn’t look worried.
That was what she wanted. She wanted that kind of joy for John.
“We don’t have to do this,” John said. He’d slid ever closer to her. “You don’t need to pretend with me.”
Her head turned. “Pretend?” Her voice was a bare whisper because she didn’t want to interrupt the singers.
“Things have been hard. I know you’re hurting. You don’t have to act like you’re—”
“I want this holiday with you.” Devin had destroyed enough. Taken enough from her. She was determined to take her life back.
His head inclined toward her. “Then we’ll have the holiday. We’ll have anything you want.”
Almost anything because she still had the small problem of needing to get him a present. Something that he’d enjoy.
They started walking again. He was holding her hand, and snow was on the ground all around them. People were laughing. It seemed so incredibly normal, and she wanted to be a part of that normal world.
Sammy’s bar waited up ahead.
“Let’s get our bags,” Shelly decided as they kept walking. “And then we can go home. We can get there before Jeb, and then put up the tree.”
He turned her in his arms. Stood right there, in front of the entrance to Sammy’s. “Home,” John repeated that one word, and his whole face tensed.
Had she said the wrong thing? “I didn’t mean…” Her words trailed away. What had she meant?
“I think you are my home, Shelly.”
That was…his words were making her heart melt.
Before she could respond, the door opened with a jingle and Sammy stood there. He saw them,
and he immediately put his hands on his hips. “You know the rules,” Sammy barked.
Rules? What—
Then Sammy’s index finger pointed up. “If you’re under the mistletoe, you have to kiss.”
Shelly glanced up. Sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe hung right above her.
“I’m all for obeying the rules.” John pulled her closer. His hand slid under her chin as he tipped back her head. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
He kissed her. Such a sweet, tender kiss. Light and gentle. As if she were the most delicate thing in the world. As if…
As if she were the most important thing in his world.
His head lifted. He gazed into her eyes. She held her breath, wondering what he’d say…
John smiled at her. “We need to take some of that mistletoe home with us.” There had been just the faintest emphasis on home.
Sammy laughed. “You’re smarter than I thought, boy.”
John wasn’t exactly a boy.
She glanced at Sammy. He inclined his head toward her and John. “I was wrong about you.” The humor had slipped from Sammy’s face as his gaze sharpened on John. “Thought you were trouble when I first saw you. Didn’t want you around Shelly.” He offered his hand to John. “Thank you for looking out for her.”
John took his hand. Shook it. “Thank you for looking out for her. She’s damn special, and I’m glad she has people like you in her life.”
They headed back into the bar. John went upstairs to grab their bags, and she stayed below, lingering with Sammy as he served up drinks. Evening was sliding up on them, and that meant more customers for Sammy.
Holiday music blasted from the speakers, and Sammy was putting whipped cream on the top of all the drinks he made, calling them “snow-capped” as the patrons laughed.
Her fingers tapped on the bar top, moving in beat with the music. The tension slid from her body. Sammy winked at her as he slid a snow-capped drink her way. “You remind me of your father so much.”
The ache came and went in her heart.
“Like you, he’d have his serious moments. He’d work, get so fixated with Blane’s dad as they tried to come up with their inventions.” He laughed. “Thought the guy would never do anything but work, and then he met your mom. Met her right here in this bar.” His hands swept out. “And I knew then, his life wasn’t going to be the same.” He reached across the bar and squeezed her hand. His gaze had turned knowing. “Your life isn’t going to be the same, either, is it?”
No, not since she’d found John.
“I’ll still be stopping by on Christmas Day,” Sammy told her with a firm nod. “Make sure there’s room at the table.”
Someone called his name, and Sammy turned away. She slid onto a barstool, her gaze darting toward the staircase that led to the little apartment upstairs. It would be nice to slip away from the crowd. To get back to the cabin where it would just be her and John. The burned wreckage of the garage wasn’t quite gonna thrill her but…
“Excuse me.” A male voice rumbled beside her. “I think we need to talk.”
Her stare jerked toward the speaker. She found herself staring at a tall, blond-haired man. His hair was a little long, his gaze intense, and a heavy, black coat covered him.
“I’m with someone,” Shelly said simply. “But I hope you have a good—”
“You’re Shelly Hampton.”
Okay, now alarm skittered down her spine.
“My name is Jay Maverick.”
The name rang a distant bell. Maverick…Maverick… “The tech guy?”
Jay Maverick was the tech darling at the moment. She tilted her head, studying him, yes, she did think she’d seen his face on the cover of a few magazines lately. Why was he in Sammy’s?
“It’s about John Smith.” Jay glanced over his shoulder. Nervous energy clung to him. “We really need to talk, but can we do it someplace where there aren’t so many people around?”
The faint alarm she’d felt got one hundred times worse. “How do you know John?”
“Your story—what happened with you here, the attacks, I read about it all online. I need to see John. Where is he?”
Her lips clamped together. She didn’t know this guy, other than seeing his face on some flashy magazines. And he might be a genius, but he also had a reputation for being wild. For being a playboy. For being trouble.
“This guy bothering you?” Sammy’s gravelly voice demanded.
Jay Maverick was asking about John. He was making her nervous. So… “Yes.” Shelly gave a hard nod of her head. “I think he needs to leave.”
Jay’s mouth dropped open. “Wait? What? No, I—”
But Sammy had already snapped his fingers, and the local guys nearby were only too happy to show Jay to the door. She didn’t wait around to see if he tried to get back inside. She hurried for the stairs, just as John was striding down. She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go out the back.” She’d tell him about Jay soon enough. Right then, she wanted to get out of that place. Their rental vehicle was out back. They’d get in, get away, and then she could figure out what the hell Jay Maverick wanted with John.
A few moments later, they were behind the bar. The wind blew hard against her as John loaded the bags. He slammed shut the back of the SUV and turned toward her. He smiled but…froze. She saw a heavy tension sweep through him. “John?”
He lunged toward her, putting himself in front of her body. He pushed her behind him as he faced off against some unseen foe. “Who the fuck is there?” John snarled, staring into the shadows near the line of trees.
Her fingers pressed to his back. “Someone was in the bar, asking about you,” she whispered.
“And some bastard is hiding in the trees, watching us right now.” John’s voice rose as he shouted, “Don’t make me drag your ass out!”
She rather liked the option of just getting in the vehicle and driving away but…
John’s head jerked to the right. “And someone else is coming around the building.”
She craned her neck to see around John. A few moments later, Jay Maverick hurried around the building. The spotlights from the back of the bar lit up the scene. And they clearly showed Jay’s surprise when he drew up short. His hands lifted. “Whoa! Whoa! Why are you in battle-mode, man?”
John’s body was rock hard in front of Shelly. His hands were powerful fists at his sides. Definitely battle-mode.
“I’m not your enemy,” Jay assured him quickly. He kept his hands up. “I can help you. At least, I hope I can.”
“And the asshole in the woods? The guy watching silently? Is he here to help, too?” John’s voice was lethal.
Jay glanced toward the woods. Then he gave a little wave. “Come out, Sawyer! If he sees you, if he sees what you can do, it might calm John down. Get him to talk to us.”
Shelly peered at the trees. Then she saw a man burst from those trees. A man who was moving far too fast. The same way that John could move too fast. The fellow was almost a blur as he barreled right at John.
Only John leapt forward. He drove his fist out in a flying punch, and the man who’d been rushing toward John—the guy fell back into the snow.
“Damn.” Jay sounded impressed, not upset. “That was a beautiful hit.”
In the next breath, John had bunched his hand in Jay’s shirt-front. He lifted the guy up into the air. “Who the hell are you?”
“Jay!” Jay gasped out. “Jay Maverick! And I can help you!”
“By sending your goon at me?”
Shelly noticed that the goon in question had risen to his feet. Only he wasn’t lunging to attack again. Instead, he was brushing snow off his body. Taking his time.
“You were right, Jay,” the goon called out. He didn’t sound particularly pissed. Actually, he didn’t sound bothered at all. “He is like me.”
John tossed Jay. The guy crashed into the snow. John’s hands fisted once more. “I’m nothing like either one of you,” John denied hotly. “I’m—
”
“Lazarus.” The one word was almost like a curse as it came from the man who’d stopped brushing the snow off his body. Shelly’s gaze swept over him. Tall, muscled, dangerous. His dark hair was cut in a short style similar to John’s, and his hard jaw was locked tight.
“What the fuck,” John began, voice colder than the snow, “did you just say?”
“I was part of the program, too. Experimented on without my consent. And I woke up in a world I didn’t know.” The man made no move to advance on John. “My name is Sawyer Cage, and I don’t want to fight with you. Jay showed me your story. He found it online—the reporter was talking about how you’d cheated death so many times up here, and when we did a little digging, when we found out that you supposedly died in Miami, too.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t too hard to realize you must be one of us.”
Jay cleared his throat. “And you were ex-military. Lazarus liked to use test subjects like you.”
John’s head whipped toward him. “Like…me?” Each word seemed torn from him.
“Yeah.” It was Sawyer who responded. “They take men like us, men that they can turn into weapons.”
“The deadlier, the better,” Jay muttered.
Shelly had heard enough. She surged forward, moving to John’s side. Her hand grabbed his, held tight. “How do we know you guys aren’t part of Lazarus?”
Jay flinched.
John swore. “He is,” he said. And his left hand rose as he pointed at Jay. “Bastard’s heartrate just tripled, and he’s about to hyperventilate.”
“It’s not what you think!” Jay cried out quickly. “Shit, shit, calm down, okay? Everyone, calm down!”
Sawyer’s head turned, just a bit, until he was looking toward the bar. “It would help—really help a lot—if you’d tell your man in the shadows to stand down.” His words were directed at John. “I get that you don’t trust us. But we are not here to hurt you. Not you, not your lady. If you can hear Jay’s heart beating, then that just confirms what I already know. You’re one of us.”
“I am not part of your group.”
Sawyer was staring at the side of the bar, where the shadows were thickest. “He’s a normal human, and I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t like having a gun aimed at me.”