Finally. Jake Weylin opened his eyes. The weight on his chest had lifted, the oxygen cannula was gone, and someone had hold of his left hand. Oh. Lacy. She’d fallen asleep in the chair next to his bed with her arm outstretched and her fingers wrapped around his. He tightened his hold. Sweet.
Her green eyes lit up at that telling squeeze, and he was pretty sure she’d said something. Her lips moved, but he couldn’t hear a thing. “Eh?’ he had to ask, his throat raw and thick with congestion. “What happened?”
Up she came until she was kneeling on the edge of his bed. She braced her palms to the sides of his face and answered with a teary kiss that would’ve melted his socks off if he’d had any on. Some kind of magical energy shot straight through his tired-as-hell body to his bare toes. He cupped the back of her skull so he could get a better hold on her. Tubes and wires came with his arm, but it didn’t slow him down. He wanted more of that mouth of hers.
She cocked her head for easier access. So much warmth came with her touch as she deepened the kiss, pushing her tongue between his lips and sparking feelings no dead man had a right to own. Lacy Wright was making a meal of him, and she was the perfect desert. The only thing that could make this moment better would be if they were both naked.
For some crazy wonderful reason, his eyes brimmed with tears. She had to stop. This was too much, too soon, and, oh, what the hell. No, it wasn’t. Not really. He got it now. He might not ever deserve her, but Lacy Wright was his to love and to hold for time and all eternity.
He asked again, “What happened?”
Lacytouched her fingertips to her lips and pressed them to his chest. Jake might not have heard the words, but his heart leapt up to catch that homerun “I love you” like a rookie on second base. He pressed his lips to her forehead and let his tears mingle with hers.
The divine strains of George Frideric Handel’s chorus welled up from inside of him while Lacy’s love washed over him, baptizing him again and again. The war was finally done.
Alle-freaking-luia!
Chapter Thirty-One
“Uncle Jake!” LiLi and Song squealed together at Zack’s front door. “You came! You came!”
Jake nodded to the excited youngsters. His hearing had returned once the congestion in his head cleared, but his bout with pneumonia had left him weak and tired most of the time. He couldn’t complain, though. Not with Lacy at his side.
“Did you like my present?” LiLi asked, her big brown eyes full of excitement.
“I do,” he said, lifting the chain around his neck out from under his shirt so she could see he meant what he said. The cute little gal had given him a Saint Christopher medal, the patron saint of weary travelers, to help him find his way home the next time he got lost. Damned insightful for a child to give an adult, especially him.
LiLi was smart like that and incredibly perceptive for a child her age, but she was still a little girl. She scrunched her shoulders and asked, “Do you have a present for me?”
“Of course I do. Me and Lacy brought presents for all you kids.”
“My goodness, let Uncle Jake and Aunt Lacy get inside the house,” Mei scolded the kids away—for half a second.
Suddenly surrounded by a bevy of little ones with radar ears, Jake closed the door behind him and sank to his knees in the foyer. The moment overwhelmed. All those little hands and tender voices reached deep into his emotions, pulling out forgotten feelings. Panic raised its obnoxious head, but this time something else came with it: Inner strength and some old jarhead named Sergeant Jake Weylin, who apparently had more work to do before he processed out of Jake’s head. It was a good thing, too, having your old self at your six. Some folks might call him crazy, but that was the last thing Jake was. Healing was a better word. Happy sounded good, too. Best of all, he was in love.
He and Lacy handed out extra-large peppermint candy canes with small fuzzy stuffed pink bears for the little girls, gold teddy bears for the boys. But for LiLi, he had a special gift. If she wanted to be an astronaut, he intended to deliver. He’d bought her a telescope for stargazing and had to duck back to the Lennox’s front porch where he’d left it.
Mei rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Oh yes, he should’ve.” Zack angled through the crowd and wrapped his arm around Jake’s shoulders in a one-armed, guy-kind of sideways hug. “Now I don’t have to buy her one. It’s about damned time you got here. What kept you so long?”
“Yeah, well…” Jake didn’t know what else to say. No way was he telling Zack what he and Lacy had been doing with and to each other since he’d gotten out of the hospital. It seemed the more he made love with her, the faster he’d gotten his strength back. She’d become that needle in his arm, only the addiction she’d brought with her wasn’t at all like what he’d seen addicts on the streets go through. If anything, the moment he pressed his lips to hers, he was transported to another—him. A better him. He could feel again. Better yet, he wanted to.
How a woman could anchor him, yet at the same time set him free, he didn’t claim to understand, but Lacy did just that. She didn’t seem to mind all the sex they’d been sharing, either. A smile tweaked his lips just thinking about how they’d blessed every flat surface in her tiny apartment. A few vertical surfaces too.
Jake stuck out his hand, but Zack being Zack slapped it away and pulled him into one of those brotherly hugs, his arm around Jake’s neck and his mouth to Jake’s ear. “You son-of-a-bitch. I meant what I said. My house is yours.”
Zack wanted Jake and Lacy out of Anacostia, and Jake understood why, but as tough a neighborhood as it was, Anacostia, specifically, Lacy’s apartment, was good enough for now. Living indoors in clean quarters was a big enough change.
Jake hung on for a second longer than he should have because, well, Zack was the only one who’d come looking for him after Kabul, and he’d never stopped watching out for him, not even when Jake tried to get lost. Even after he married Mei, Zack had always reached out and reeled Jake back in for a home cooked meal or two, a new jacket, and maybe a pair of boots. Zack had never left him behind, and that was saying a lot—a helluva lot—considering Jake was down on his luck and living on the streets of hardcore Anacostia.
“Thanks, brother,” Jake said as he ended the man hug. “You’ve done enough.”
Zack tilted back from his waist, his grip still tight on Jake’s biceps. “There’s no such thing as enough when you’re family.” His eyes lit with that Lennox signature smile. “There’s only ‘get your butt to the table before the ham’s gone’, now move it. You too, Lacy.”
Zack pulled her in for a hug. “I swear, you get prettier every day. How goes the art show?”
Up went her brows and her pretty green eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Oh Zack, where do I begin? It’s a lot more work than I expected, but I’ve got orders and letters coming in from parents and wives of service members all over the world. It breaks my heart every day, but…” She reached for him again, her arms around his thick neck. “You were right. People do care.”
His brow lifted in that dangerous, teasing way he had. “You get in touch with your folks yet? Your mom?”
Lacy let go with an extra noisy gulp. “Not yet, but that’s my New Year’s resolution. I’m going to.”
Zack grinned. “That gives you three hundred and sixty-five days to make good on it. Don’t let her down.” He turned on Jake then. “I hear you’re going west?”
How the man knew about Jake’s travel plans was a surprise, but not a shock. Zack was a covert operator after all. “February,” Jake announced his upcoming trip home to visit Arkansas. “I told them I’d be out next month.”
“Your folks will be glad to see you. Your Granddad too.”
Zack always claimed his greatest power came from his family. Jake meant to prove his buddy right. As he stepped away with Mei, Jake steered Lacy into the festivities. It might be January first for the rest of the world, but it was still Christmas at the Lennox hou
se.
Instead of grabbing a plate of the banquet spread on the extra-long table in the dining room, Jake ducked inside the Lennox’s spacious living room with Lacy on his arm. Damn. Zack had a big house, but the place was full of people. Too many people. Lots of beefy guys. He recognized the ex-military stamp on their faces. It looked like Alex Stewart’s entire team was here, their wives and children too. Mark Houston, he knew. Harley Mortimer and Rory Dennison, too. Taylor Armstrong. Gabe Cartwright. Maverick Carson. But all those kids...
They were everywhere, and they filled the house with squeals and laughter and a creeping sense of I’ve-got-to-get-out-of-here. Jake halted before he got too far from Zack’s front door. Maybe this wasn’t a smart idea.
“You good?” Lacy knew him too well. Heck, she’d probably turn tail and run with him if he decided to, but that little cutie-pie Song had run up to him, and now she had hold of his pinkie finger.
The little tyke determinedly tugged him into the heart of the boisterous Lennox extended family. “Come on, Unca Jake. You is walking too slow,” she grumbled.
“I am, huh?” He blew out a deep breath. “Well then...” Another deep breath. “Let’s do this.” Summoning his inner jarhead to the party, he swung Song up to his shoulder and the three of them marched on in. “Where do you want to sit, Princess?”
Song clapped her hands and squealed, “I is a Pwincess! Over there, Unca Jake. I wanna sit by the Chwissmas twee!”
“Coming through,” he declared loudly and proudly. The tree had to be twenty feet tall. He looked up to where a star or an angel should’ve been. Instead a shiny red heart sparkled. Zack never did do things like everyone else. “What’s that, Song?” he asked as he pointed up top.
Zack’s sweet little baby tipped her cheek to Jake’s cheek and whispered. “It’s a heart, siwwee.”
Lacy snorted. He peered at this adorable kid. “Did you just call me silly?”
“Ah-huh,” she answered as her little arms came around his head. Song grunted as she squeezed him tight. “You is siwwee and I is Song. Merry Chwissmas, Unca Jake.”
Man, what’s a guy supposed to do after a Christmas hug and a wish like that? He swung her into his arms and set her gently to the floor before he wimped out and had to trade in his man card one more time. “Merry Christmas, Song. Go find your sisters. Scoot.”
“Merry Christmas, Lacy. Junior Agent,” Alex said as he lifted his wine glass in a toast from one of many comfortable loveseats scattered around the edge of the room.
“Same to you, sir,” Jake answered, his head clearer now that he was officially inside the room. Alex’s job offer was still a little overwhelming. Accompanying Harley and Mark to places unknown for a contract with the World Health Organization didn’t sound difficult, but he also knew how those simple sounding operations could turn to hell in a hurry.
Alex rolled his steely blue eyes, shaking his head. “You want to try that again, Junior Agent?”
Did the noise in the house just drop a few decibels? Crap, even the kids were suddenly silent. Jake nodded at his new boss even as that creepy sensation prickled up the back of his neck, certain that all eyes were fixed on him. He looked to Zack who had the shittiest smirk on his face. Oh yeah. The funny story about Mark calling Alex ‘sir’ came back to Jake. Alex worked for a living. He hated being called ‘sir’—with a passion. Shit, I haven’t set foot in his office yet, and I already blew it.
Damned if that cocky son-of-a-bitch, Sergeant Jake Weylin, didn’t show up unexpectedly. He was fast becoming a regular in Jake and Lacy’s life. “Did I just call you ‘sir’? Me? Did I do that?” he challenged Alex, back-pedaling like only a Marine knew how. “I’m sure I said ‘Boss’. Didn’t I?” Jake played to the crowded room. “What’d you guys hear? Did I say ‘sir’ or —?”
“Boss!” every last male in the room shouted. “You said ‘Boss’, and ‘Oorah!’”
The women giggled and the boisterous men outright laughed, while Jake faced the other man he respected as much as Zack. He’d heard stories how Alex had refused to give up the search even after the Coast Guard called it quits the night Jake had supposedly walked into the river. Alex was one of those rare leaders who actually led his men into battle instead of pushing them from a safe distance behind the lines. Zack never had a bad thing to say about the man.
At the moment, Alex had a pretty dark-haired woman beside him and a glass of red wine in his hand. “Well said, Jake. Well said. Zack might be right after all. This is my wife, Kelsey. Kelsey, Junior Agent Jake Weylin and his girlfriend, Lacy Wright.”
“Hi, Jake.” Kelsey offered a pretty smile as she toasted him with her nearly full goblet. “I’ve been waiting to meet you, and I already know Lacy.”
“Evening, ma’am,” Jake replied, hoping that word of respect was acceptable.
Lacy waved back at Kelsey. “Hi, Kelsey. We weren’t expecting so many people.”
“Neither were we,” Alex said in the same humorless, deadpan tone, his sharp blue eyes scanning and quartering the crowd, no doubt looking for trouble before it started. “Guess that’s what families do. They just keep getting bigger and funnier. Why don’t you sit your ass down?” He shot Jake a sideways glance that would’ve looked disdainful if a half-smile hadn’t twitched his lip.
“Yessssss…” Whew. “Boss.” That damned USMC sergeant under his skin had very nearly called Alex the ‘S’ word again. Note to self: Don’t do that!
He and Lacy took a seat against the wall nearest to, and nearly behind the tree. Old habits died hard, but this was a safe place in more ways than one. Not only could he see straight up the hallway to the front door, but no one would step on his legs and fingers back here.
Jake scanned the filled-to-overflowing room. The only ones who didn’t fit the military mode were the kids and a grizzled old man in the rocking chair with somebody’s baby on his lap. Wait a minute. Was that Marty snuggling that baby? The old drunk who’d found that little Chinese orphan in the dumpster behind the now defunct IGA store in Anacostia, the same one Jamaal and Jake used to sleep in? By hell, it was. Good old Marty. It was his act of kindness for a tiny one as lost as he was that had provided the clues needed to end the selling and buying of Chinese orphans in the D.C. area.
Jake sent him a hearty, “Hey, Marty. Whatcha doing?”
Up came Marty’s gray head with a grin of recognition. “I’m rocking my baby. Least, I’m rocking somebody’s baby.”
“That’d be mine.” Connor Maher raised a hand from the loveseat where he snuggled with another TEAM agent, his wife Izza. “You got her to burp yet?”
Marty shook his head, his brows pinched. “No, she s’posed to?”
Izza’s dark eyes sparkled. “I don’t want her back until you get one out of her. Better be a big one.”
That seemed to please Marty. He settled back in the rocker, patting that little one’s back like a proud grandpa instead of a recovering alcoholic. In minutes, Zack came by with a couple brewskis and two plates of heavy hors d’oeuvres for Jake and Lacy. Ham. German potato salad. Crackers and cheese sticks. Stuff like that. Mei followed with silverware and napkins. LiLi set up a folding TV tray next to Lacy to hold their drinks while they ate.
Jake rolled the pinch out of his neck and shot a quick glance at Zack’s boss, now his boss. You’d never know Alex Stewart was a self-made millionaire, not the way he sat there with one arm flopped over his wife’s shoulder while he sipped at his wine. Everyone was dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts or sweatshirts. Alex too. He looked more like some local frat boy with that blue sweatshirt he was wearing, his absolute allegiance to the Corps declared in the bright yellow USMC logo across his chest.
But his face told another story. The man wore scars along his jaw like a badge. He’d be a boss to be reckoned with, and for the first time since deployment ended, Jake looked forward to the challenge.
Kelsey chatted with Libby Houston at her other side while Libby’s husband, Mark, held one of their three little g
irls on his knee, bouncing the baby enough to keep her giggling and grinning. The two couples looked like a damned pair of bookends. Happy bookends.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Son of a gun, my life has changed. Jake wouldn’t have it any other way.
While he’d spent the first few days of recovery sleeping, Zack had made certain that the AMA, the American Medical Association, got wind and evidence of Dr. Death’s extreme method for treating hysteria, hyper-vigilance, and PTSD. It seemed Lacy’s parents weren’t the only ones duped into paying thousands for false claims of a fast cure for Post-Traumatic Stress. The man actually was board-certified, but the greedy bastard had preyed on families of returning soldiers. Had a glamorous clinic and everything. Not any more. The last Jake heard, the AMA had closed Dr. Death’s clinic down pending a thorough investigation and possible charges. Jake would’ve taken it one step farther, but murder was against the law.
Poindexter was still making headlines, along with Rocky Rabbit, Ferret Face, and bloodthirsty Miss Annette Plunkett, who turned out to be Poindexter’s mistress from hell. She’d flipped on Poindexter faster than he could turn state’s evidence on his long-time buddy, Manny Prentiss. It didn’t take her long to rat out everyone Poindexter had blackmailed on his way up the corporate ladder. Plunkett knew where every last girl was, and she made certain the press knew, too.
The gossip rags blew up with Kelly Poindexter’s much publicized and televised declaration of divorce. She’d become a favorite on all the feel-good talk shows, investigative reports, and the like. The kingdom Poindexter had sold his soul for now resided in the hands of Homeland Security, Interpol, and a star-studded divorce lawyer from Hollywood.
The California Attorney General vowed Poindexter would never see the outside of the federal prison he was headed to, and his ex-wife vowed he’d never see his daughter—if he lived long enough to ask for parole or visiting privileges. Not likely. The man had too many enemies in the system who wanted him to disappear, and some were powerful enough to make it happen. Stupid, stupid man.
Jake (In the Company of Snipers Book 16) Page 22