by Sakwa, Kim
“Bloody hell, sweetheart,” he whispered as he started for the door. “I’m sorry.”
“My daughter’s British,” Amanda told him drowsily.
“I know,” he said grimly, realizing his wife didn’t remember him. Jesus, was it option three?
Alexander stopped at the desk again. His son had been brought up from the nursery. They checked his bracelet against Amanda’s. Satisfied they had a match, the nurse placed him in Stephen’s outstretched arms.
Amanda stiffened suddenly. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home, Amanda,” he reminded her.
“Zander! My baby! I have to get my baby!”
“He’s right here.” Alexander turned her so she could see him. “See?”
Her eyes filled with tears again. “Thank you.”
Bloody hell, he wanted to cry with her. He didn’t and considering how grievous the past 278 days—not that he was counting—had been made it terribly difficult. She sighed and put her head back down.
It was close to four in the morning by the time they arrived at Amanda’s. She’d slept in his arms the entire ride over. Burrowed herself into the crook of his neck, just as she’d always had before. It buoyed his hopes that perhaps she did at least instinctively remember him. And it felt amazing. He couldn’t hold her tight enough and rocked her—bloody hell—just because he could.
Sam, Amanda’s best friend, was waiting outside the front doors. They’d never met, but Amanda had talked about her frequently. Amanda had known that he and Stephen believed her when she’d finally revealed she was from the twenty-first century; she knew, too, that they would protect her with their lives. Stephen had also been present for a lot of Amanda’s stories about “the future,” most of which included Sam. In fact, Alexander had been furious at first that his wife spoke so often of another man. When he finally voiced his anger, Amanda had used one of her favorite phrases, “Really, Alexander?” She’d rolled her eyes too. He smiled thinking of it. Then she’d told him that Sam was short for Samantha. Now, Sam only nodded upon seeing them arrive, rubbed Amanda’s cheek, and said, “Follow me.”
Putting Amanda in her own bed was difficult but necessary. After speaking with Evan and Helen, he reluctantly left Amanda in their care. Time to find his daughter. Sam cornered him in the hall as the door snicked shut behind him.
Samantha Gilchrist was as beautiful as his wife. And from what he’d gathered, and he’d gathered a bloody lot, she was equally smart and talented in her own right. Sam and Amanda had met at a private girls’ boarding school and later attended college together. Amanda followed the fine arts of dance and music while Sam studied law and journalism.
“She thinks you’re dead,” Sam said expressionlessly.
“I’m not.” Alexander wasn’t surprised by her tone or lack of emotion. Amanda had often said Sam warmed up slowly, if at all. But if you were lucky enough to gain her trust, her friendship and love was gift like none other.
“Duh. You missed her by—”
“Three days, Samantha. Story of our lives. Always just this side of too late.”
“Don’t be pathetic,” she shot back. “You’re here. I’m not sure how and I’m not sure I want to know. Hearing Amanda’s side of the story was absurd enough.” A look crossed her face. “If anyone finds out—”
“We’ve covered our tracks. Destroyed everything we can. Dr. Childress has already convinced me that it’s in Amanda’s best interest to let her draw her own conclusions.”
“He knows?” Her expression was incredulous.
“Yes.” Alexander didn’t find it necessary to expound at the moment. If ever. To her point, however, there were a handful of people who were indeed aware of how he and Amanda had met, and also how he had lost her and his daughter. He couldn’t be expected to keep something like that to himself—Amanda clearly hadn’t.
“So, until she remembers? If she remembers?”
“Until she remembers,” Alexander said pointedly, “I’m the new owner of JDL Security.” On the ride home from the hospital, he’d decided to change the name to Calder Defense, the first three letters of Callie’s name and the last three of Zander’s. “Amanda’s a client and my brother’s her new detail.” Which granted Alexander access to her and his children’s lives, he’d decided, even if the cover was a bit of a stretch. He was relying on his wife’s love of family, immediate and extended, so this was right up her alley.
“Wait,” Samantha said, putting up her hand. “You bought JDL?”
“Yes. And all their subsidiaries.”
“Your fortune traveled with you?” Sam asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.
If she only knew how long his men had worked to bury everything deep within the cliffs.
“It multiplied, actually.” He’d been shocked to find his gold and possessions were worth over a billion dollars in today’s market. He’d gladly give it all away for his wife and children. “Where’s Callesandra’s room?”
“You’re going to wake her up?”
“Damn right I am,” he said, a little louder than he’d intended. Samantha’s initial surprise was quickly followed with a nod of understanding, and she led him to the room down the hallway on the right.
His hand splayed the solid wood panel a moment before covering the large pewter lever that opened her door. Alexander stood in the threshold as his eyes adjusted. Soft light illuminated her entire room. It was a little girl’s dream; an immense four-poster bed sat against the wall facing the doorway where he stood. To his left were bookshelves and a desk. To his right, large picture windows overlooked the sea. One corner was filled with a dress-up and play area, the other held a small table and chairs. The table was set for tea, and dolls and stuffed animals filled the chairs. It brought tears to his eyes. Amanda had done a remarkable job under the circumstances. That Amanda held on to her sanity as long as she had was astounding. He’d come close to losing his mind himself.
He sat on the bed next to his daughter. She was facing the other way. His hand covered her little back. “Callesandra.”
His heart nearly turned over in his chest at her whispered response. “Papa.” Then she rolled over, rubbed her eyes, and her sweet little face fell in shock. He grabbed her with both hands and pulled her in, rocking her as he buried his face in her neck.
“I knew you’d find us, Papa.”
He was so overcome with emotion he couldn’t speak. It took him a solid minute to choke out, “I’m sorry it took so long, angel.”
“Are you crying, too, Papa?” Callie’s little hands framed his face.
“I am,” he confirmed, nodding his head.
“You never cry, Papa.”
“I’ve done a lot of things I never thought I’d do, Callesandra.” Things he couldn’t speak of. Things that most likely added to Amanda’s breakdown.
“Did you see Mama?”
“I brought her home,” he told her. “She’s very tired, angel. Having a baby…she got really sad in the hospital. Her memory is taking a little break right now.”
“Aunt Sam said she has anemia,” Callie said, her voice very serious now.
He smiled at her attempt to set the record straight. “Mama has a form of amnesia, angel. She can’t remember—”
“She remembers me, Papa. She called me. She was really sleepy, but she called.” Her eyes got really wide. “At three in the morning.” She grinned and held up her fingers to show him. “Mama said I had a baby brother and he was going to love me so much. And then she said she loved me so much too.”
Alexander smiled again at her summary of events. “We both love you so much,” he assured her.
“Are you gonna stay with Mama?”
“No, angel. Mama can’t remember me right now.” He kissed her face again about a hundred times. “I’ll be here, though. A lot.” He noticed Stephen had cracked open
the door while he waited in the hall. He knew Callie would be thrilled to see her uncle again. “I won’t be staying for now, but Uncle Stephen will.”
Stephen came in then, and Alexander chuckled as Callie’s mouth fell open, then she scrambled off the bed and into his arms. Alexander checked on Amanda once more and found her sleeping while Helen rested in a chair beside the bed. Zander lay in a bassinet between them.
Helen gave them a few moments alone and Alexander knelt at the bedside. Amanda had pushed the pillows to the floor and her head lay pressed to the mattress. He brushed the hair off her face, so overcome at being able to touch her again. Bloody hell—she was alive! He remembered that first time he’d seen Amanda, a dead ringer for his wife, Rebecca, and the difficulty he’d had reconciling his reaction to her. Why the instant he stood next to her, he was drawn to her and not repelled. It was only when she’d looked up at him and he saw her bright blue eyes that he knew she wasn’t the evil woman he had been married to.
His head fell to the bed. Just being able to inhale her scent brought a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in far too long. Even in the darkness he could see the dark circles beneath her eyes, the bruises on her wrists… She’d fought like hell. He reached for her hand and rubbed the scar that ran diagonally across her palm, then he kissed it. Evidence of their time together when she first came to him in his century. The other hand showed the evidence of the night he’d lost her and Callesandra back to hers. He thanked God again that he’d found them, that he, Stephen, and Gregor were allowed through the portal, not the portal in the tunnels that brought Amanda to him in the first place, but the one that ultimately took her back out-with his daughter. That they’d created a life together as well, that was bloody amazing.
He took Zander from the bassinet, sat in the chair Helen had vacated, and marveled at what a miracle he was. Eleven pounds four ounces, bloody hell. “You gave your mama a difficult time, didn’t you?”
“Stan said you’re the new owner of JDL. That you bought the hospital to get me out.”
Amanda hadn’t moved; the side of her head was still pressed to the bed, but her eyes were open now, her voice painfully hoarse. He thought for a moment of what she’d said. “I only gave an endowment that should pay for a new hospital,” he chuckled.
“Why?”
“Besides the fact that Art Fisher considers you the daughter he never had and would have my hide if I wasn’t inordinately overprotective of you, you’re one of our most influential clients, Ms. Marceau. I take my responsibilities very seriously. So seriously, I’ve put my brother in charge of your keeping. And my brother and I are very close, family means everything to me, so I’ll apologize now for many upcoming intrusions.”
Her eyes teared and she smiled just a bit. “I like family.” Then she said, “Thank you for taking me out of there.”
“You already thanked me at the hospital,” he reminded her, shaking his head. He stared at her for moment, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed next to her and take her into his arms. “How do you feel?” he asked instead.
“As good as I look.”
She patted the bed and reached out her hand, motioning for Zander. Alexander brought him over and laid him next to her. He knelt again, watching as she examined him. “Helen will be back in just a few minutes,” he told her. She was trying to remove the blanket he was swaddled in but didn’t have the strength. He could feel her frustration. “Shh…” Alexander said, unwrapping the baby. He placed her hand on Zander once he had him down to his nappy. She smiled, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Can you see his little fingers?” he asked her. She shook her head, so he held up one hand at a time and counted off each finger for her, then he did the same with his feet and toes.
“What color are his eyes?”
Alexander smiled at her and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he told her. “They’ve been closed each time I’ve held him.” She tried to smile but sighed instead and closed her eyes. She was asleep seconds later, her hand firmly on top of their son. He laid his hand on top of hers, where it remained until Helen returned.
“I’ll be back later today,” Alexander said once he’d stepped out into the hall with Stephen. He touched his brother’s shoulder as he passed him, squeezing once for good measure. Then he walked out of Amanda’s house, down the marble stairs, and stopped on the circular stone drive. Five Navigators, two Escalades, one Range Rover, and a 911 Turbo S Cabriolet lined the road that led to the gates far below the estate. The Navigators’ engines started in unison, headlights on as they circled. He climbed in the back of the third, the one Gregor was driving. Alexander only wished now Amanda remembered so she could “see” it. She’d always said if they could figure out how to safely use the portal, Gregor would take to the great fantastical future the best.
His chest tightened as he thought, We figured it out, sweetheart.
His men remained quiet as he flexed his hand and got his bearings. Then he punched the seat in front of him. “Bloody hell!” he yelled, as Trevor pitched forward.
“God damn it, Alex!” Trevor, Alex’s technical boy-genius, sounded none too happy.
“Chris secured the house next door,” Gregor said, clearly trying to calm Alexander down. “He’ll have the paperwork ready today. We’ll be in tomorrow.”
“For now?” Alexander asked.
“We’re forty minutes from our accommodations.”
Alexander leaned back as Siri instructed Gregor how to get to wherever it was they were going. His hands pressed the sides of his head. Bloody hell. He was in America. His family was as well.
Cosmic fucking joke.
It was two hundred and forty-five years later.
It was late afternoon by the time Alexander and his men returned to Amanda’s. When they arrived, Alexander went straight toward the large living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sea. Samantha was seated on a white ultra-suede stool, her hands atop a glistening marble countertop. A nightclub-sized bar filled the area to his right.
Amanda had impeccable taste. Her home reflected that.
“How is she?” Alexander asked Samantha, who turned, her eyes narrowed slightly.
“She is resting comfortably right now. I, however, am becoming irritated with your brother.”
Alexander turned to look at Stephen sitting on another stool, positioned so he could see the entirety of the room and the estate’s front doors. Files and paperwork were spread before him, as well as his iPhone, two-way radio, and Sig. Bloody hell, how their lives had come to this was…well, it just was.
“I only asked you a question, Samantha,” Stephen said bitingly as he gestured to Stan, who had appeared just inside the room. Stan nodded and did a quick pivot. Stephen was great under pressure.
God bless his brother.
“A personal question,” Sam said coolly. “Why it’s your business, Stephen, I’m not sure. But no, I’m not seeing anyone.”
Ah, now Alexander understood. Amanda had always said Stephen and Samantha would suit. This must be the result of his brother’s two-hundred-plus-year fascination with Ms. Gilchrist. Stephen gave a curt nod, but Alexander detected a slight smile too. Then his brother checked the time on his Breitling Avenger and asked, “Drink, Alex?”
“See if there’s any Macallan.”
Samantha laughed knowingly, and when Alexander walked behind the bar, he saw it. The bottle was right there, already opened. A beautiful, yet utterly masculine, cut crystal rocks glass sat beside it. Bloody hell, sweetheart.
“There’s four cases in the bottom left cabinet behind you,” she told him. “And if you’ll look up, you’ll see the rest.”
He did; at least twenty empty bottles lined one of the open shelves.
Samantha sighed, a clear indication of a chink in her armor. “She poured you a glass every night. Placed it on the piano.” She pointed at the gorgeous g
rand piano in the corner of the room on display before the windows. “And then she played for you.” Sam got up and shook her head, and tears laced the words that followed. “It was fucking heartbreaking.”
She walked behind the bar, grabbed another glass, poured some Macallan for herself and knocked it back. Impressive. Their eyes locked and as the proverbial ice melted, her shoulders sagged in resignation. “I can’t believe you’re here. Or you,” she said, looking at Stephen. “And Amanda told me about Gregor, so him too—Jesus.” It must have just hit her. “He drives one of your Navigators!”
Alexander actually chuckled. If anyone was born to live in the twenty-first century, it was his best friend. “Gregor loves to drive.” He shook his head. “There’s not a vehicle he’s come across that he hasn’t mastered in a day.” Alexander remembered the first time Gregor had driven an automobile, an Aston Martin on the estate in Great Britain. He’d been so exhilarated, he finished with a doughnut, then jumped out of the car and chest bumped Michael.
“Great.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll alert the creators of the Transporter franchise. Now back to the important stuff—how did you escape?”
“Stephen and my men freed me from prison ten hours before my scheduled execution.” He had to admit, it was a good line, and somewhat relished the look of shock on Sam’s face.
“How did you get caught? Amanda said you were sailing for America that night. She and Callie were convinced you’d killed the men who abducted them.”
Alexander looked at Samantha. The woman didn’t mince words. He took a long pull of whiskey before he answered. “I did kill them, Samantha. With my bare hands.” He grew angry just thinking about the men who’d kidnapped his wife and daughter and left them for dead. “After Amanda let go—”
“She said you would blame her for that,” Samantha snapped on her best friend’s behalf.
“Back off, counselor,” Stephen warned. It was a terribly touchy subject. For all of them.
“She said that you’d blame yourself too,” Sam conceded to Stephen.