by Harper Sloan
Page 8
“Reid, damn is it good to see you again. Twice in one day; must be my lucky day, you fucking bastard. ”
Jesus, there’s another one of these men. Maybe this one will be short, fat and balding. Ha, not looking like that’s possible with this cast of man candy. Even their names are hot. Beck, Zeke, Maddox, and Reid.
I turn to my side, giving Dee a smile that I hope expresses how lucky we just became. She is still standing next to Beck but her flirty smile is long gone. The look of shock, and something else I can’t name, has taken over her face. What the fuck? She looks like she swallowed a damn fly and is looking right over my shoulder with her jaw on the floor.
Damn this one must be even hotter than the others.
I make a mental note to discuss this with her later. I might be out of the game but even I think that is a weird flirting technique.
I finish my rotation and end up looking at the biggest chest I have ever seen in my life. If the boys before this one made me feel small, this man makes me feel like a damn midget. Well, I can understand her astonishment now, it isn’t normal to be this large. How is his shirt even staying stitched at the seams? His arms are so big and powerful that they are currently testing the strength of his black button down shirt which is stretched across his massive shoulders and tucked neatly into the tight black dress slacks; slacks that are doing nothing to disguise the healthy size bulge.
I shake myself off, mentally berating myself for going there. I just eye fucked this complete stranger without even saying hello. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last drink.
I look back up and meet the most stunning green eyes I have ever seen. Eyes I have seen before. Eyes I have spent hours gazing into. Loving and planning. Eyes I have been mourning for the last twelve years.
Feeling dizzy, I reach out to steady myself catching the first thing I find, which I think might be Greg. “What the fuck?” He mumbles under his breath.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
He’s gone. I know he is. If he wasn’t I wouldn’t have just spent the last twelve years missing him so ferociously with every fiber of my being.
The last thing I think, before I feel my world spinning and crashing down on me, is Axel isn’t gone. He isn’t dead. I didn’t lose the last part of him when his baby bled out of my body on my eighteenth birthday.
And before I lose all touch with reality I swear I hear, “Are you fucking kidding me? Isabelle is your goddamn Iz?”
I must be dreaming because MY Axel would never sneer my name with so much anger and hate.
Chapter 5
“Baby,” I hear his deep voice seductively rumble as he trails his fingertips up my spine. God, I love how he wakes me up; always touching my skin like just the contact alone makes him feel whole. His hard body is pressed tightly to my own, keeping me snug and warm against his side.
“Baby girl,” he croons in my ear, kissing the spot right behind it; the spot that never fails to make my body go from warm to boil. Goose bumps instantly start to sprinkle against my skin.
No one has ever set me on fire like him.
No one has ever loved me like him.
Axel, my love, my heart, my everything.
I’m finally back in his strong arms.
How did I get here? My heart skips a beat and my breath stalls in my lungs.
It’s all been a dream, it must have been. Just a terrible nightmare I never thought I would wake from.
My parents are still alive.
Ax isn’t leaving me.
Our baby is still safe within my womb.
Everything is perfect.
The enormity of this moment hits me like a Mack truck. Big, body heaving sobs wreck my body.
He’s here, my Axel is here. I am finally back in his arms.
“Baby girl,” his voice says again, getting fainter like he is down a long hallway.
“Izzy? Baby girl, please wake up. ”
Why is Greg holding me? He shouldn’t be here. This isn’t right. Where is Axel? He was just right here. I don’t want Greg, I want Ax!
My crying intensifies and I can feel his body tensing trying to figure out how to calm me down. I can hear myself; I must sound ridiculous with my hysterical babble. I’m begging Greg, begging and pleading for him to take me back to Axel. I know I don’t make any sense but I just can’t seem to figure out where reality is and where I left Axel in my fog.
I want that dream back, I can’t lose him again…I won’t survive it a second time around.
I eventually settle down, with just a few shudders to my breath escape my body. I try desperately to make sense of this situation. How did this happen?
Looking around, I notice for the first time that we are in an office of sorts and I am sitting on a large leather couch pushed off to one end. Maddox is standing next to the door like a guard; his face has lost the small touch of friendliness he had before and has now taken on a fierce look of pure rage. I look up at Greg, with what I’m guessing is a look of pure confusion. He returns my look with a small forced smile.
I can hear Dee now, now that I have finally stopped my grief filled sobbing; she sounds like she is a million miles away. She is muffled enough that I can’t understand her words but the venomous tone to her voice is clearly reaching my ears. Greg is still holding me tightly in his arms, whispering reassuring words in my ear. At least I think they are reassuring, his tone is soft and slow, delicate. My mind can’t catch them though; I am still searching for Axel.
“Move the fuck out of my way woman, I will not tell you a-fuckin-gain. ” I hear the steel like tone attached to the voice I haven’t heard in so long. He sounds almost feral. That is not a tone I have ever heard his voice take. “I will get back there. Do you fucking hear me Isabelle? I will be talking to you!” He continues to boom through the office door that Maddox is guarding.
At the sound of my full name, my body goes rigid tight. I can feel every muscle individually seize up. Each bone seems to have turned to stone and the tremors are starting to work their way through my body. My heart picks up speed and my breathing becomes shallow.
No one has called me that in two years; and no one would dare. That was the name, the only name, Brandon used with me and it was almost always followed by his fist or foot. No one that knows me would use that name. The first time Dee called me that after I left Brandon, I had to be admitted to the hospital because I couldn’t calm down.
God, I can’t breathe. I look up into Greg’s worried eyes; I know what he sees when he looks down into mine, absolute raw terror and fear. A fear that I am back in that place and terror that Brandon has finally found me.
Gasping to catch a small slice of oxygen down into my lungs, I start clawing at his arms, trying my hardest to get away. I have to run. I have to hide. If Brandon is here he won’t stop until he kills me this time.
“Fuck,” Greg spits out, “mother FUCKING fuck!” He is pulling me closer to his body, trying with great desperation to calm me down. I try to soak up his warmth the best I can, trying to almost crawl inside his body but none of it is touching me. I feel like my body is being filled with ice; filling me completely to my soul with ice cold fear. I can almost drown in the memory induced terror; it is completely taking over my body and mind.
“Fuck,” Greg rumbles again. He sounds so worried. I wish I had the words to reassure him that I’m okay but what a laughable reassurance that would be. We both knew I wasn’t okay; I was so far from okay, I might as well be in another country. I haven’t had an episode like this in a long time; not since the early months after leaving Brandon. I have been doing so well; beating back the panic and finally seeing the light of peace. In fact, yesterday’s breakdown after the ‘present from hell’ was the first time I have felt the claws of fear take hold in months.
“Locke, come here man. Hold her for a second so I can go bash that motherfucker in the goddamn head. ” Greg sof
tly throws his request over to Maddox. I guess he has had enough of watching me come unglued. It can’t be easy for him to watch the after effects of a beaten and broken woman. After he first witnessed one of my panic attacks, I remember, he wouldn’t leave for days. He kept his hawk-like eyes trained on my every move, just waiting for me to crumble.
I feel my body being lifted and then settled down within a new set of steel bands. Maddox hooks one arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his chest, taking my legs and pulling them up close to my body before wrapping his other arm in tight. I feel almost infantile in his arms as he starts to hum a slow tune. I never expected him and his hard exterior to be so understanding and nurturing.
Finally feeling some of the panic recede I take what feels like my first gulp of air in hours; willing my heart to settle. Maybe it’s his warmth or the way this big hard man curled me in tight and started to softly sing under his breath. Maybe it’s just the fact that I don’t want this new person to see how completely fucked up I am but he finally calms me down enough to feel the stress and exhaustion of the situation start taking over. Looking up, I meet the concerned dark depths of Maddox’s eyes.
“You okay, girl?
“No. ” I whisper back to him.
What an absurd question. If I could, I would belt out one hell of a laugh.
I don’t think I will ever be okay again.
I tuck my head back down onto Maddox’s chest and hope for a miracle.
(Axel)
You have got to be fucking kidding me. What are the odds, after this long? Isabelle fucking West. I am still at a loss over this new Intel. My goddamn Izzy is Greg’s friend who needs help? No, that’s not right, she isn’t mine anymore. She stopped being mine when she couldn’t wait for me, couldn’t hold on for just a few months. She stopped being mine the day I finally found her, married to another fucking man.
Fuck! How is it possible that the Isabelle I knew all those years ago is the same woman Greg gave me the run down on yesterday. He described a scared, innocent, and very broken woman. The Izzy I knew would never let a person break her spirit. Hell, in the three years she was my girl even I had a hard time keeping that spirit from overtaking me. She was so full of life and happiness. No fucking way this is the same girl.
When Greg called me yesterday to have a chat, he explained that his girl was in trouble. And not the kind of trouble a girl needs to be in. I didn’t have the time yesterday to sit down and get the details, being in the middle of moving across the country and setting up shop with Greg; things are insane. I had finally handed over the west coast operations of Corps Security just a few days ago, quickly jumping in my truck and heading east. I had bought my house quickly and we had just signed the lease on the new office space. Now all that was left is getting set up with Greg and becoming familiar with his case load. There is an endless backlog of people requesting consultations for investigative work; luckily it didn’t take much to convince Locke, Beck and Coop to pick up and start over in Georgia with me.
During our quick meeting yesterday, he filled me in on the very hazy issue. He had a good friend escaping a bad marriage, how bad I didn’t yet know. She has been living here for about two years and during the last six months has been having a back and forth battle for divorce. The bastard didn’t want to let go. Greg said it hasn’t been a big issue until yesterday when she got a fucked up picture in the mail. He explained it to me, the ex sounds like one sick fuck, and enough of a threat for me to tell him to set something up.