by Aly Martinez
“I’m fine,” Clare said in a broken voice that told me she was anything but fine.
I squatted in front of her at the same time Tessa careened into her legs.
She winced and an agonizing wail shot from her mouth before she moved the arm at her stomach to wrap it around Tessa’s back. “I’m fine,” she repeated.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, desperately fighting the urge to take her into my arms.
She groaned, using a great deal of effort to stand up straight. “Nothing. I’m good,” she panted as though she’d just run a marathon.
“You’re in pain.”
“I’m just a little sore.”
“Bull—” I didn’t finish the curse strictly for Tessa’s benefit. “Hey, sweet girl. Go get the iPad. I brought you some headphones.”
She looked up at Clare warily but reluctantly followed my direction.
Once I had her set up on the bed, watching one of the princess movies I’d downloaded for her, I refocused on Clare. “Hall. Now,” I ordered.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she mumbled as she walked past me in a gait that could only be compared to that of an eighty-year-old recovering from a hip replacement. She stopped at the door without crossing the threshold into the hall.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
She glanced over her shoulder at Tessa. “I’m fine, Heath. We just need some sleep.”
“Don’t feed me that shit.”
She was still wearing the scrubs the hospital had given her that morning despite the fact that Elisabeth had placed several bags of clothes on the armchair in her bedroom.
“Why don’t you go take a long bath and get changed?”
“Into what?” she snapped, slapping her hands on her thighs in frustration before wincing again.
I crossed my arms over my chest and rocked back on my heels. “Maybe something in one of those bags.”
She scoffed and glanced to the floor. “I’m fine in this.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been wearing it all day. And you need a shower. I’m not saying you stink or anything, but…” I trailed off and tossed her a smirk.
One she did not return.
Her whole face crumbled, which sent off a chain reaction through her body. She threw a hand out and caught herself on the door.
I would have given anything to take that from her. To make things better. But I couldn’t be sure she even wanted the comfort from me. And, if she didn’t, I would have been no better than any other man who had put his hands on her without her permission.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and ground out, “Talk to me.”
Her breathing sped rapidly as emotions ravaged her, but she kept them locked away.
Pressure mounted in my chest because there was not one damn thing I could do to ease her agony unless she trusted me enough to open up. I couldn’t force her. It was something she had to decide on her own. And it fucking killed me.
She screwed her eyes shut but didn’t move.
“Clare, I’m gonna be real honest here. I’m on the verge of spontaneously combusting. I refuse to be one of those men in your life who puts my hands on you when you have no say in it. But, if you don’t stop being such a hard-ass and lean on me, I’m going to lose my mind. If you want to be left alone, I’ll completely understand. But, for the love of God, babe, open your mouth and tell me what the hell is going on in your head.”
Her sad, blue eyes lifted to mine; the pain shining within was staggering.
I loomed forward, thrumming with need to hold her. “It’s me, Clare. Whatever you need, you know I’ll give it to you. You just have to tell me.”
Finally, fucking finally, she closed the distance between us, folded her arms around my waist, and pressed her cheek to my chest. “I wanna go home, Heath. I can’t stay here. I can’t…”
That was all the permission I needed. I’d promised myself that I’d only give to Clare, but as I wrapped her into a gentle hug, I had to admit that it was for me. My heart slowed immediately as I filled my lungs with her scent.
“I can’t let you go back to that.”
“No,” she corrected. “Not back to Walt’s. I mean home. To the shitty trailer I lived in before I met him.” She paused and then softly finished with, “Before my life ended.”
“I can’t let you go back to that either, babe.”
Her shoulders shook as her breathing shuttered. Her fingers tensed at my back as she clung to me.
“I know this is hard,” I told the top of her head. “But we’re all here for you. Me. Roman. Elisabeth. The DEA. Everyone.”
“I don’t belong here,” she squeaked.
She was so fucking wrong. She belonged exactly where she was—safe and in my arms.
“This isn’t permanent.”
She lifted her head off my chest and tilted it back to catch my gaze. “That’s the problem. I don’t belong anywhere. A woman I only met hours ago bought me underwear today, Heath.” Her voice hitched. “I don’t even have my own underwear,” she choked out. “What happens when this is over? I have no family. My parents are dead, and my aunts and uncles, who I haven’t spoken to in over a decade, could barely take care of themselves back then. I can’t imagine that anyone is going to be rushing to my aid when this is all said and done. I have nowhere to go. No money. No clothes. No way to take care of Tessa. No job. No experience. No nothing.”
“You’ve got me,” I replied without hesitation. And I fucking meant it.
I wouldn’t abandon her.
Even if I couldn’t stay.
“You’re a really sweet guy. But come on… Eventually, the DEA is going to stop paying you to take care of me.”
I cocked my head to the side. “You think I’m only here because it’s my job?”
“I don’t think it’s the only reason you’re here. But, Heath, two days ago, I still thought your name was Luke.”
“And…” I drawled.
She sighed. “And…it’s hard to believe that next time you go undercover and your name becomes Gino that you’ll still be my Luke.”
My Luke.
Wrong name, but I could live with it as long as it was preceded by “my” and it came from her mouth.
“Okay, let me stop you right there. One, I have blond hair and blue eyes. I’m willing to assume no one is going to buy me as a Gino. So we’re both safe there.” I smirked.
She half laughed, half cried.
“Two, I already told you this, but it seems it needs repeating.” I smoothed a hand up her back and stared down into her swollen and battered, but no less beautiful, blue eyes. “I don’t want to be your Luke. Not anymore. I’m Heath. I’ve always been Heath. I’ll always be Heath. But, regardless of what my name is, I’m not going anywhere.”
Not until you’re ready anyway. I ignored the stabbing pain in my chest.
Her lashes fluttered as her eyes closed just before she rested her forehead on my chest. “Why?”
Because I wouldn’t be able to breathe without knowing you’re safe.
Because I’m drawn to you in ways that would ruin us both.
Because it’s irrational, illogical, and so fucked up that I feel like I’m going insane, but I can’t stop feeling like you and Tessa are mine.
“We’re friends, Clare. That’s what friends do.”
She hugged me tight then mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out into my chest. I assumed it was some variation of thank-you. So I gently returned her squeeze.
Until she suddenly stepped out of my arms, embarrassment and horror covering her face. “Oh God, you are.”
I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “I am what?”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
I inched toward her and impatiently repeated, “I am what?”
“Married,” she replied, lifting her gaze to mine. “Shit. Your wife probably wants to claw my eyes out. You should have introduced us when she dropped off your bag today. Maybe I could have talked to her and smoothed things out for you,�
� she rambled adorably.
Her disappointment was unmistakable, and that alone did some seriously good things in my chest. Really fucking good things.
I barked a laugh. “My wife doesn’t want to claw your eyes out.” I swayed my head from side to side in consideration. “I mean, she might, but seeing as to how she doesn’t exist, I don’t think she’s an immediate threat.”
One side of her mouth tipped up in a grin.
“I’m not married, Clare. The girl who dropped my bag off today was my little sister, Maggie. And I would have introduced you, if I hadn’t thought she’d embarrass the ever-loving shit out of me.” I flashed her a smile and winked. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold here.”
Her smile spread. “You have a sister?”
“Four,” I replied, my smile growing to match hers.
Her mouth fell open. “Four?”
I laughed at her surprise. “Yep. Jenna, Laurie, Melanie, and Maggie. I’m the oldest, and they have an ongoing competition to see who can fuck with me the most. Laurie currently holds the title after she ran into me out on a date last year. She was eight months pregnant at the time and came over to our table, fake-crying and asking me if I was at least going to show up for our son’s birth. My date took off, never to be seen again, and my sisters all got a big laugh. We’re tight. And I love ’em. But they are serious assholes sometimes.”
She cupped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. “Wow.”
And that’s when it hit me. I’d always acted like Heath when I was with her, but as far as my past was concerned, I’d only been able to give her Luke Cosgrove—twenty-nine-year-old only child from Orlando, working as a personal trainer until I was able to open my own gym. Lies. Lies. And more lies. Yet I wanted her to trust me.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from pulling her back into my arms. “Why don’t you let me take Tessa downstairs while you take a long bath and get ready for bed? We’ll come back up in thirty minutes with some food and ibuprofen, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me.”
Her smile fell, and she uncomfortably cut her eyes to the side. “Tessa stays with me.”
“Okay,” I replied immediately. “Then get in there, take a bath, put on some of the clothes Elisabeth bought you, and I’ll be back up in thirty minutes with some food and ibuprofen to answer anything you want to know about me.” I grinned.
A shy smile played on her lips as she continued to look off to the side. “Okay.”
“Thirty minutes,” I reminded her, backing away.
“Thirty minutes,” she repeated before biting her bottom lip.
She didn’t move. Nor did she look at me.
However, I kept backing toward the stairs because it was either that or bite that fucking bottom lip of hers, too.
Thirty long minutes later, I headed back up the stairs with a bottle of ibuprofen, a large Italian-sausage-and-onion pizza, two cups, and a two-liter of Coke—and not the diet shit she drank.
I rapped softly on the door, and seconds later, she pulled it open an inch.
Literally. One inch.
“It’s just me,” I assured, but she didn’t open it wider.
She put her lips to the crack. “Do you remember when you told me about your sisters and how they liked to embarrass you?”
I twisted my lips. “Uh…it was thirty minutes ago, Clare. Can’t exactly forget.”
“Right. Well, I think Elisabeth might be my long-lost sister because this is what she bought me to sleep in.” She swung the door open, and it was all I could do not to drop the pizza.
The box bumbled in my hand as I raked my eyes over her from head to toe—then again for good measure. Then again because…well, I was a man and she was wearing a tiny, black, silky dress that clung to every curve of her petite body. She was still wearing a bra, but the swells of her breasts were exposed at the top, a fucking perfect line of cleavage taunting me.
I was going to lose my mind if I had to sit and talk to her while she was wearing that.
“I see your point,” I mumbled, raking my eyes over her one last time before pulling my shit together.
“This is all she bought!” she exclaimed on a whisper. “Twelve of them to be exact. All in different colors and styles. Not even so much as a pair of yoga pants.”
Well, there was one positive. I’d stared at her ass in those enough to know they weren’t much better than this little nightgown thingy. Though I feared that Clare in a potato sack would still have the same effect on me.
“Okay. We can fix this,” I declared, walking into the room and setting the pizza and the Coke on the foot of the bed, where Tessa was sound asleep, headphones still on, iPad still curled against her chest.
I glanced back at Clare, biting the inside of my cheek to suppress the groan when I got another eyeful. Then I stripped my T-shirt over my head and tossed it in her direction. “Here. Put this on.”
My groan finally escaped as her eyes lingered on my abs just before she tugged it on.
Offering her that shirt was quite possibly the worst decision I’d ever made.
Because, while my shirt covered her exposed chest, it left her standing in front of me, in a bedroom, wearing my shirt.
Do not go there, Light.
She is not yours.
But she could be…
“Jesus fuck,” I mumbled, searching around the room.
Surely, Elisabeth had to have bought her a robe—or, if I was really lucky, a burka.
No such luck, but I found a throw blanket hanging over the chair in the corner.
I tortured myself with one last glance at her before offering the blanket in her direction. “Maybe you should cover up with that.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, her face flashing bright red as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.
I gripped the back of my neck. “You’re beautiful, Clare. Nothing to apologize for.” For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with me?
She cleared her throat and then pointedly dropped her gaze to my chest. “Well…um…with that same sentiment in mind, perhaps you should go grab another shirt.”
And take a cold shower.
And bleach my retinas to forget how goddamn sexy she was in that nightgown and even more so in my shirt.
I’d promised I wouldn’t take from Clare, but I was willing to bet that jerking my dick to visions of her would most definitely fall into that category. Son of a bitch, I was an asshole.
“Yeah. I’ll be right back,” I replied, hauling ass from the room.
What was I doing? I’d been able to contain myself for three fucking months with this woman. And, after one night and sleeping in an uncomfortable hospital chair at her side, I was losing it?
Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that she was finally away from that maniac and my head wasn’t filled with worry and fear that something would happen to her.
Or maybe I was a head case who was falling in love with a witness who had worked her way under my skin with nothing more than a brave heart and a smile I felt all the way down to the marrow in my bones.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It was a good five minutes before I’d collected myself enough to make my way back over.
“Hey,” I said, fully intent on telling her I was going to call it a night. We could talk later…after my lobotomy…and my castration.
“You bought me a sausage-and-onion pizza,” she stated with sparkling eyes as I entered the room. The blanket was thankfully wrapped tight around her shoulders as she perched on the corner of the bed.
I shrugged. “Actually, Roman’s assistant, Seth, bought you a sausage-and-onion pizza, but yeah, I asked him to get it.”
Her lips pursed, and for a split second, I thought she was upset.
A tear rolled from the corner of her eye.
My whole body came online as I searched her face. “What’s wrong?”
She dried her cheek. “You hate sausage. You gagged wh
en I told you this was my favorite.”
I chuckled as relief flooded me. “I can pick sausage off. And besides, I ate that weird pork stuff Elisabeth made.” I tipped my chin to the box beside her. “That pizza’s for you. Well, half of it, anyway. That weird pork stuff Elisabeth cooked was shit.”
She giggled, and just the sound soothed my exposed nerves.
“How old are you?” she asked out of the blue as she started picking sausage off a slice.
“Thirty-four,” I answered.
Her eyebrows popped up. “Wow, gramps.”
“Ass,” I teased, walking over to Tessa. I gently removed the headphones and tucked her under the blankets.
When I turned back to face Clare, she was smiling.
“Thanks for the pizza, Heath.”
“Thank me by passing me a slice.”
“Are you sure you should be eating pizza? My grandpa always got indigestion if he ate too late.”
“Aren’t you just hilarious,” I deadpanned.
She giggled again, and I knew there was not a chance in Hell I was calling it a night.
Not when I had the opportunity to spend even a minute with her.
Snagging the sausage-free piece she was working on from the box, I asked, “All right, what else do you want to know about me?”
“Where are you from?”
“Augusta.” I took a bite and settled in the chair across the room.
“Parents?”
“Mom died when I was sixteen. Breast cancer. Dad didn’t take it so well, became a drunk. He and I don’t get along so well. Next.”
“How old are your sisters?”
“Shit. You gonna make me do math while I’m enjoying some onion pizza?”
She laughed before taking a bite. A sexy-as-hell moan rumbled in her throat as she chewed.
Christ, she was beautiful. The blanket was doing its job up top, but her petite feet crossed at the ankle drew my attention up to her toned thighs.
Yep, time to talk about my sisters.
“So…Jenna’s three years younger than me, thirty-one. That would make Laurie twenty-nine, Melanie twenty-five, and Maggie twenty-two. Despite the age gap, I’m closest with Maggie. She came to live with me after high school so she could go to Georgia Tech without having to sell her organs to pay for room and board. She graduated last May and moved into her own apartment over the summer.”