by Sakwa, Kim
Shaking, Amanda gave a silent plea to Stan to cooperate as Montgomery said, “Are we done here?” At Stan’s “Yes, sir,” Montgomery removed his weapon and waited for Amanda to start forward. When she didn’t, he ushered her toward the truck he’d stepped out of earlier. Callie was already inside. Amanda hesitated again, her eyes darting from her daughter to the street. “Bloody hell, Amanda, my plane’s leaving in two hours,” he told her. “You and my children will be on it.” Her first instinct was to shake her head. “It wasn’t an invitation,” he informed her, confirming her thoughts about his mouth being made to give orders. “Jesus Christ, Amanda.” He shook his head and rubbed his hand across his forehead, suddenly looking worn and exhausted. “I would never hurt you or our children. Please.” He reached for Zander.
She clutched the baby protectively, then whispered, “Are you going to take them from me?”
He shook his head. “I am not taking him from you. I need you to step into the truck.” He reached for Zander again, but she was shaking so severely he had to unfurl her hands from around him. He held her arm as she climbed in and followed right behind her.
Still in shock, Amanda took little note of the custom appointments as Callie jumped into her lap. Instead of a bench in the back and seats in the middle, she sank into what looked like a plush leather sectional built around the frame. TV screens, laptops, and spyware were everywhere. Stan sat shotgun. He looked back to make sure she was okay; she wasn’t, but nodded anyway. Montgomery sat next to them, taking up a considerable amount of space. He stretched his long legs and settled Zander into the crook of his neck. Then he grinned at Callie, motioning her over. He threw his head back and laughed as she burrowed against him. Then he looked at her, “Bloody hell, Amanda, I wi—”
Yeah, she wished a lot of things, too, but the way he looked at her was so sweet, so endearing in that moment she just didn’t know what to think and cut him off instead. “Are you going to put him in his car seat?”
“We’re traveling four city blocks. At ten miles an hour. He has a better chance of getting hurt on the sidewalk.” He gave her one of his deep, penetrating looks then, the one that wasn’t guarded.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Mr. Montgomery?” Amanda asked pointedly.
“Yeah, Amanda,” he said, leaning forward and gripping her shirt, bringing her in close, “I don’t care for you to call me Mr. Montgomery.”
“That’s it?” Seriously, the way the man looked at her went right to her bones.
“Presently.”
She shrugged and stared out the window instead. He had such a commanding presence; it was difficult to be so close. As if reading her mind, he made it worse, nudging his large foot in between hers and dragging her closer. She looked at him against her better judgment and was relieved to see his head was back, eyes closed, hands holding his children. The similarities to Zander were glaring now that she knew to look for them. Same dark hair, same skin tone, and looking at him now, she realized that behind his closed lids, their eyes were the same dark color. Amanda continued staring at him, boring holes into him with her eyes, trying desperately to remember ever being with him, married to him, knowing him. It was so frustrating, but it just wouldn’t come.
Suddenly it seemed crazy to have left. The answers to all her questions were right here in front of her. But maybe she’d had to go away to see that. To see that he was the only one who could tell her what had happened.
“Did I leave you?” she asked. “Or did you leave me?”
“Neither, Amanda.”
“Ugh,” she groaned and started hitting the side of her head with her palm. Hard. This was just so frustrating.
“Don’t!” He grabbed her hand. “That won’t help.”
“How do you know?” She knew she was acting childish. But honestly, she couldn’t help it. As composed as she tried to remain on the outside, inside she was a mess. Mostly because when he’d grabbed her hand, he laced their fingers and hadn’t let go. Intellect said tread with extreme caution. Her heart, maybe even her soul, said something entirely different.
“We don’t have time for that conversation right now,” Alex told her. They’d just arrived at Amanda’s penthouse. Stan opened the door and Alex waited for her to get out first. Trevor was waiting, grinning from ear to ear. He really was sweet, and she’d missed him, all of them for that matter—well, almost all of them.
“Hi, Mrs. Montgomery,” he said and suddenly Amanda wanted to smack him. Was she Mrs. Montgomery, really? How dare he just assume she could be that. She had to temper her reaction to the name; grinding her back teeth helped. “Your bag was under Zander’s car seat in the stroller.”
Amanda reached for her tote, keeping her inner commentary inner. He really had been such a sweet boy, until twelve seconds ago. “Thank you, Trevor. Can you—”
“They’re bringing the base from your Rover up now. I’ll have it ready by the time you’re back.”
Amanda remained rooted to the spot. She knew everyone was waiting for her to go forward but she wasn’t moving. Yet. Then she noticed Samantha getting out of the truck. She was still so mad at her, and on top of what Trevor had just said, she freaked out. Again. She plucked Zander from Alex’s chest, did a quick pivot, and started down the sidewalk.
She heard a bloody hell and a minute later felt Alex behind her. Then his large hands were on her shoulders. “Please, don’t walk away, Amanda.” His voice was gentle now.
She turned. “Why is Sam with you?”
“Probably because she felt lost without you and the children.”
“I’m sure she was fine.”
“Really? She’s your best friend and she’s been by your side for months.”
“Some best friend for keeping an entire husband from me for over a month, but whatever.” Amanda clutched Zander closer, turned, and began walking again. She felt him behind her the entire time. She couldn’t keep what she was thinking inside any longer and finally turned. With her free hand, she smacked his chest and yelled, “We were married!”
He grabbed her shoulders, pulled her in, and got right in her face. “We are married!” he yelled back.
“There’s no record that I was ever married.” She went through the files Stan had showed her repeatedly since arriving in Chicago.
“I was there,” he bit out. “So were you.”
“But I don’t even really know you, Alex. How am I supposed to remember any of that?” He took it like a slap, actually physically recoiling, but regained control a second later. Well, bully for you. Still bothered by another thought she said, “You tricked me!”
“I have never deceived you.”
“You purchased JDL Security so you’d have access to your children.”
“I purchased JDL to find you!”
If she was so important to him, if they were really married, where was her frigging wedding band? “You’re wearing an eight-thousand-dollar suit. Two-thousand-dollar loafers. And word on the street is you’re richer than Midas.”
“And you’re wearing three-hundred-dollar jeans, eight-hundred-dollar boots, and your jacket cost at least eleven hundred. What’s your point?”
“I. Don’t. Have. A. Ring.” She held up her left hand to emphasize her point. Scars, plenty. Ring, no.
“Bloody hell, Amanda!” he yelled. “You really want to do this? Now?”
“Apparently!”
“You. Don’t. Care. For. Jewelry,” he told her.
Her eyes narrowed, true but… “What woman doesn’t like jewelry?”
“You.”
“Well, I would have wanted a simple band.”
“You did.”
“Where is it?”
“On a chain,” he ground out, “around my neck.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeated in a shout.
“Yes, Al�
�Montgomery.” Oh, jeez, this was so confusing. Still, she spit out, “Why?”
“Have you seen your hand lately?” he shouted again, then grabbed her left hand and held it up. “What do you think caused this gash along your finger?”
Her eyes went wide. “You took it from me?”
“What?” He couldn’t believe what she’d asked. “Are you fucking serious?”
She sucked in audible breath. “How dare you speak to me that way!”
“How dare I?” He lifted her right off the ground. Their argument had become so heated his men had surrounded them. Stan was talking to a police officer someone had called. “You want to know why your wedding band is around my neck?”
“Rich and smart. Just my luck.” His eyes narrowed even more, his mouth settled into a fine line, and the muscles in his neck corded. She was literally right in his face. Nose to nose. He’d brought her there.
“You. Let. Go. For ten months those three words have haunted my every waking and sleeping moment. You let go, Amanda!”
He’d bellowed each word at her. The anger, she felt. But the pain in his eyes caused her to sharply inhale. She realized the gravity of what he’d just told her. She suddenly felt ill. It must have showed because he gently lowered her to the ground and scrutinized every inch of her face. She could see the marks on the inside of his wrist as he cupped her face and tilted it this way and that. There were four crescent-shaped scars. Like a hand had been there, holding on. She could barely hear her own voice when she said, “You’re right. We’ll do this later.” She couldn’t look at him anymore. Her head was spinning as she started walking back the way they’d come.
Alexander took Zander as soon as Amanda turned to him. They were just approaching the entrance of her building. She’d barely been able to enunciate the word please as she held their son out to him. Stan, Stephen, and Trevor were the only ones still waiting outside. Stan turned the key for the penthouse elevator. Once inside, Amanda pushed herself into the corner. Her hand was gripping the rail. She was staring at the now faint scars that marred the top. Scars he’d put there in his desperate attempt to hold on to her as she’d let go of his wrist and slipped through his fingers. There was a scar along the inside of her ring finger as the band scraped the bone when it had come off in the struggle. She looked up at him then. Bloody hell, he knew that look. He passed Zander to Stan and stepped in front of her as she turned three shades of green. He palmed her forehead to keep her hair back just before she threw up in her tote bag.
She’d just completed round three as they reached her floor. Stephen cleared the elevator and waited outside the door. She finally dragged her hand across her mouth and shuddered. “Done?” he asked, reaching for the bag.
“Uh-huh.” Amanda nodded. She closed her eyes as he brushed her hair back with his hand.
Stephen stepped inside for the second it took to grab Amanda’s bag and hand him a water bottle. “Just enough to wet your mouth,” Alexander said, passing it to her. She took the smallest sip and let her head fall back. “Amanda?” She had the strangest look in her eyes. And that was saying a lot considering. “What’s going through that clever mind of yours?”
She shook her head as if to clear it. “Are you going to take her from me?”
“I would never take either of them from you.”
“You could. You have the resources and enough evidence to lock me up. Maybe for good.”
Bloody hell! She thought he’d use her breakdown in the hospital against her. “I’m not having you locked up, Amanda,” he lied. Because he abso-fucking-lutley was. With him. And their children. And the gaggle of people he seemed to collect along his way. “Now that I’ve found you, I’m not going anywhere. Ever. Again.”
“Why did you come back?”
“Back?” he repeated. “I. Didn’t. Leave. You,” he said, speaking evenly to keep the anger out of his voice.
“I feel broken, Alexander. If you didn’t leave me before, you should now.”
“Listen to me, Amanda. Very carefully. I will fix you. I will.”
“You’re too late.”
“Story of our lives,” he said. Would she ever remember? “Always too late.”
“You should really work on that.”
“I’m trying.”
She took a deep, fortifying breath, then said, “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Alexander gave her a good once-over, tilted her face, and looked in her eyes. “You’re okay?”
“Define okay.”
He shook his head. “Can’t anymore.”
“Then all I’ve got is a big fake smile,” she said, pasting one on, “and a ‘ready’!”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “That’s my girl.” He couldn’t help brushing his lips across her forehead. She didn’t resist. “Let’s go.”
As soon as they passed through the foyer, Amanda headed toward her room but ran into Rosa in the hallway. “Rosa, Mr. Montgomery is taking us—” She paused. She didn’t know where he was taking them. “To be honest, I don’t know where. Can you start packing—”
“I’m taking you back to California, Amanda. Backpacks and comfortable clothes for the ride, Rosa.”
Alexander watched Amanda make her way down the hallway. She reached for the wall twice for support before she turned into what he assumed was her bedroom. Samantha was watching her as well, and he motioned with his head for her to follow and check on her.
When Sam came back a minute later, he was holding Zander while Rosa was on the floor with Callie preparing a bottle. “Angel, can you go with Uncle Stephen and get your backpack ready?” He waited until they turned into her room, then gave Samantha his full attention.
“She kicked me out,” she said with disbelief in her voice. “She brushed her teeth, took off her shoes, looked right at me, and told me to leave.”
“Give her time,” Alexander said as he brushed past her, hoping he was right. He grabbed the bottle for Zander, a good prop, and headed for Amanda’s room. He knocked as he opened the bedroom door. “Amanda?” Alexander called out. Zander fussed again. “Shh…shh…Mama’s going to feed you,” he promised his son. She came right out, looking adorable with her hair up and face scrubbed. She’d changed into cashmere lounge pants and a hoodie. She walked right up to him and plucked Zander off his chest.
“Mama’s got you, baby,” she cooed. “How much time do I have?” she asked.
“Twenty minutes good?” When she nodded, he grabbed the tote she’d put on the floor. “What do you need from the other one?”
“The one I threw up in?” she asked.
“Yeah. That one.”
“My wallet. I’ll get it.”
“Rosa already fished it out.”
“Tell her thank you,” she said, a look of pure relief and gratitude passing over her face. “She’ll know what else to put in it.” He gave a nod and closed the door behind him.
Closer to twenty-five minutes later, Amanda walked into Callie’s room where he was sprawled on her bed, Callie right next to him. She was showing him something on her iPad. He had her tucked in tight under his arm, loving the feel of his daughter curled against him. Callie had changed into a blue tracksuit. Alexander had changed as well, jeans and a T-shirt. Amanda looked like she was about to leave them when he held up his hand and motioned her over.
When she sat on the edge of the bed Alexander asked, “Ready?” She gave him her brightest smile.
Callie giggled. “Big fake smile,” she whispered.
Alexander tweaked her nose. “I know, angel.” Then he looked at Amanda. “Your mama’s specialty.”
“It’s so strange to hear you talk about me like that.” She shook her head. “It’s true of course,” she said, smiling at Callie as she reached out to touch her. “And it happens to be my favorite defense mechanism.”
Callie giggled as his ha
nd covered Amanda’s thigh. “Let’s go then. Everything but our phones and Callie’s iPad is packed.”
He lifted Callie in the air again, tickled her till she cried mercy, and watched as she scurried from the room. Then he stood and looked down at Amanda, holding out his hand to help her up. She paused, and he saw her notice the scars that marred the inside of his wrist and up the entire side of his thumb. She put Zander down against the pillows and looked at him questioningly from beneath her lashes. Slowly, she reached out again, this time with both hands to trace the marks. His breath caught in his throat, and he watched as she turned his hand over and held her own scarred hand up to compare. When she saw that he had no scars like she did, she rubbed his hand absently. Then she turned it back over and pressed her fingertips right into the marks on his wrist. Bloody hell, she was taking him right back to his nightmare, and she didn’t even know it.
He wasn’t sure if she’d meant to speak aloud but he heard her whisper “perfect fit” as she dug her nails in, not hard, but enough to know. Then her hand grasped his wrist. Reflexively, his did the same—just like that night when that was all he had to hold her by—and he clutched her back. It startled her. Her eyes widened, then he watched as she loosened her hold and looked to him with that same questioning expression. Sickened, he silently demonstrated, his fingers trailing her scars, from wrist to the top of her hand and finally along her ring finger.
She swallowed hard, then looked up. “I let go.” All he could do was answer with a slow, deliberate nod. “Why?” she asked, fear darkening her expression.
Bloody hell! He did not want to do this right now. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sat down next to her. He picked up Zander and laid him down on his lap. Rubbed his little body with his hands. He looked right at her, and she shrunk back a little, which broke his heart. “Jesus, Amanda, it wasn’t because you were scared of me!”
“Well, you don’t have to have a coronary!”
“Sweetheart, I’ve had nearly a dozen since I’ve met you.”