by Pamela Clare
He loved little Klara. The thought of losing her . . .
“I love her, too, and that’s why I have to give her up. I won’t put her at risk or compromise her happiness for the sake of my own.” Laura looked pleadingly at Javier as if begging him to understand. “I want her to grow up knowing only that she is safe and cherished. I don’t want the ugliness of my captivity with her biological father to be the first page in the story of her life. I don’t want her to grow up looking over her shoulder and knowing she’s the daughter of a mass murderer.”
Laura’s words began to pierce his anger and grief. He reached over and took her hand. “You know I’d do anything and everything to keep your little girl safe.”
She nodded. “You’ve already done more than any other man could.”
Erik’s face was grave. “Are you absolutely certain, Laura?”
She nodded. “Yes, I am. I would like to find a family that would be willing to send me photographs and let my mother and grandmother visit her from time to time—if it is safe.”
“Do Birgitta and Inga know about your decision?”
“I told them this morning. They are very upset, of course, but they understand.”
“If you are certain, then might I suggest an adoptive family, one that meets the criteria you listed?” Erik asked. “Heidi and I would love to adopt your little girl.”
* * *
IT WAS SETTLED very quietly and very efficiently.
Over the course of the next week, Klara was given Swedish citizenship. Adoption papers were drawn up and signed. Laura taught Heidi some basic Arabic words to help her communicate with Klara until Klara learned Swedish. Erik and Heidi held a private christening ceremony at the nearby Lutheran church where Laura stood as godmother to her own child, Javier and her mother and grandmother standing beside her.
“What is the child’s name?” the priest asked.
Erik and Heidi gave Laura the honor of making that announcement.
Laura felt a moment of triumph speaking her daughter’s true name. “Her name is Klara Marie.”
Laura spent her last morning in Stockholm feeding Klara breakfast, playing with her, reading to her, doing her best to memorize the sound of her little voice, the sweet scent of her skin, the feel of her in her arms. When it was time for Klara’s nap, Laura settled her in her crib, stroking her downy hair until she fell asleep.
“I am so sorry, Klara. I’m sorry you came into the world in such a rough way. I’m sorry these past several days have been so scary for you. And I’m so sorry I have to leave you now. But it’s best for you this way. Heidi and Erik will love you. Stella and Anette will be your big sisters. You will have a family to love and cherish you. I will see you again one day. I love you with everything I am, Klara, and I always will, no matter how far apart we are. Sleep, my girl. Dream of angels.”
She felt Javier behind her.
“The car is here, bella. Our luggage is loaded. It’s time to go.”
Laura nodded, bent down, and pressed a kiss to Klara’s cheek.
Somehow, she managed to walk away from the crib without crying, something inside her screaming that Klara was hers. Her daughter. Her child. Taking one wooden step after another, she followed Erik and Heidi as they and their twins walked her and Javier to the waiting car.
“We will take care of her, Laura.” Heidi hugged her tightly, tears in her eyes. “Thank you for the beautiful gift you have given us.”
“We’ll be in touch every week.” Erik gave Laura a hug. “You are a very courageous woman. I promise you that Klara will learn the truth when she is ready, and she will be proud to be your daughter.”
“Thank you—for everything,” Laura said.
Javier helped her into the backseat, then sat beside her. And the car began to move—out the gate, down the street, around the corner.
And Laura broke.
With a cry, she sank against Javier, her grief spilling out in broken sobs.
* * *
FEELING HELPLESS, JAVIER held Laura tight all the way to the airport. He held her on the twelve-hour flight to New York. He held her on the connecting flight to Denver. He held her on the cab ride from Denver International Airport to her loft. He held her as she cried herself to sleep.
He held her because there was nothing else he could do—and because some part of his heart had broken, too.
CHAPTER
33
LAURA AWOKE TO find herself still nestled in Javier’s arms, his head on her pillow. But she wasn’t ready to face the day—or the rawness of her own emotions. She snuggled against his chest and let herself doze, the steady beating of his heart against her cheek.
It was almost noon when her stomach woke her.
Javier brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
They brushed their teeth, and Laura couldn’t help but laugh when she saw how puffy her eyes were. “I look terrible.”
He kissed her. “You look beautiful.”
They made breakfast together as they’d done during the weeks he’d stayed with her, Javier making the coffee, Laura putting together omelets and toast, the joy she felt at being with him helping her to keep her grief at bay. After two months of living by herself, it felt good to have him here again, something about his presence making the loft feel more like a home. Wanting fresh air and sunshine, they carried their plates outdoors and sat at the little table on Laura’s balcony, the streets of LoDo alive with lunch-hour traffic and busy pedestrians.
Laura sipped her coffee, the familiar taste almost making her sigh. “Mmm. I’ve missed this.”
He grinned at her over the rim of his coffee cup, his gaze warm. “So have I.”
She knew he wasn’t talking about coffee.
But it was time.
“Are you going to tell me what really happened?”
He set his cup down. “This can’t go beyond us. You can’t even tell your mother and grandmother.”
“I understand, and I promise.”
Laura listened as he told her the whole story. How he’d begun planning for the trip to Pakistan before he left Denver. How he’d contacted a few guys from his platoon he knew he could trust, putting together a volunteer black-ops team that included Tower.
“He feel he owes you—and he does. Turns out that he’s not just an asshole. He’s damned good at his job. He speaks as many languages as you do, has connections everywhere. He got quick intel on Klara for us, handled our supplies and transportation. The man blends in with the locals, just disappears in a crowd. He was a vital member of the team, that’s for damned sure.”
He told her what had happened once they’d gotten inside the house, what he’d said to Al-Nassar’s brother and Safiya. Perhaps his threats of violence against them should have shocked her, but they didn’t.
Instead, they felt like a tiny step toward justice.
“Once I was airborne with Klara, the others flew back to the States on separate flights. Tower took my combat gear with him so I didn’t have to hassle with that. When I got to Stockholm, I called Erik, told him who I was and who was with me. He sent a car to the airport.”
“How did you find him or know to go there?”
“You mentioned him—and I searched your e-mail in-box. I turned his name over to Tower, who did the rest.”
She stared at him. “You searched my e-mail?”
He shrugged. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? You can’t argue with success.”
She glared at him. “Oh, I can argue all right. Don’t tempt me.”
“You’re not seriously ticked, are you?”
“No, not really. You could have asked, though.”
He shook his head, took her hand. “I didn’t want you to know anything about this. I didn’t want any of
the blame to fall on you if the op went sideways—and I sure as hell didn’t want you to spend every day for the next two months worrying.”
“I don’t know how to feel about the fact that Derek Tower and a handful of your team buddies know about Klara now.”
“They all wanted to help, bella. They feel a kind of connection to you. They saw how it was there. They know what you went through. They didn’t want to leave your little girl there. And not one of them will breathe a word of it.”
“Will you or the others get in any trouble for this?”
Javier shook his head. “We pulled it off. No one was killed. If NSW hears about it, they’ll probably look the other way.”
The enormity of what Javier had done hit Laura.
“Do you realize that yours were the first caring hands to hold her?” She laced her fingers through his, brought his hand to her mouth, and kissed it. “I still can’t believe what you did for me, for her. You gave up your spot on the Teams. You risked your life, your freedom.”
His lips curved in a soft smile. “I guess I found something that matters more to me.”
“What you did—it was so incredibly selfless.”
He gave a slow shake of his head, his eyes looking into hers. “Nah, bella. What you did for that sweet baby girl—that was selfless. You love her so much that you gave her up, even though it tore you apart.”
And the grief Laura had been fighting so hard to keep at bay welled up inside her, the ache behind her breastbone growing sharp. “I was only her mother for a handful of days, but in that time, I was a pretty good mother, wasn’t I?”
“You were the best.” A muscle clenched in Javier’s jaw, and he gave her hand a squeeze, a fierce light in his eyes, his voice rough. “Hold on to that in your heart and never forget it.”
Laura fought tears. She didn’t want to cry again. “I only spent nine days with her, but, God, I miss her.”
“So do I.”
* * *
AFTER BREAKFAST, LAURA found an e-mail with photographs of Klara. In one, Erik was holding Klara up so that she could pet a pony at Anette and Stella’s riding lesson, a look of wonder and delight on her little face. In another, Klara sat in her booster chair in a pretty blue dress with cake all over her hands and face—part of an adoption party they’d thrown to celebrate with family and close friends.
Javier looked at the photos with Laura, happy just to see the smile on Klara’s face—and the relief on Laura’s. “She’s going to be fine, bella. See that?”
He gave Laura some privacy so that she could write a reply, taking time to check in with the men to tell them what had happened in Stockholm. Speaking in code, he told them that Laura hadn’t brought her daughter home—and that no one could ever hear about his little side trip to Sweden. To a man, they got choked up when they heard what Laura had done for her little girl, Tower most of all.
A half hour after Javier called him, he showed up at Laura’s door. “We need to set you up with VPN, Ms. Nilsson. If you’re going to be sending regular e-mails to Sweden, you’re going to want your communications to be secure.”
“Please, call me Laura.” She walked over to him, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for helping to save my daughter.”
“I’m glad I was there.” He smiled at Laura, the look in his eyes setting off Javier’s radar. “I just want to tell you that I respect you to the core. What you did must have been hard as hell.”
“Thank you. And yes—it was.”
“She’s an incredible woman,” Tower said to Javier later when they were alone. “If you ever decide to move on—”
“Not a chance, dawg. Don’t even go there, or it’s back to me thinking you’re just an asshole, got it?”
If Laura would have him, Javier was here to stay.
* * *
LAURA SPENT THE late afternoon unpacking and doing laundry—hers and Javier’s—while he and Derek set up her VPN. It felt good to do something mindless. The simple act of folding clothes and putting things in their place made her feel like she was restoring some kind of order to her world.
Tomorrow she would return to her daily routine. She would head to the paper, catch up with Sophie and the others, and pick up the investigation she’d dropped when Erik called. And everything would be the way it had been before.
No. No, that wasn’t true.
Everything was different now.
The realization dawned slowly, settling behind Laura’s breastbone, the truth of it sending ripples through her.
Two weeks ago, Klara had been a captive, living with terrorists. But now she was free and settled out of harm’s way. Two weeks ago, Laura hadn’t known when she would see Javier again. But now, he was here with her. What’s more, he had chosen to be here with her. And he loved her.
Her world had changed so quickly that she hadn’t fully comprehended it, hadn’t yet come to appreciate it, her grief over Klara making it hard to see anything else. No, things hadn’t turned out exactly the way she’d hoped they would. Still, the pieces of her life were finally falling into place, so many of her fears swept away.
Klara was seeing and doing things she’d never done before. She had a mother and father who loved her, who would give her a safe home, and two big sisters who adored her. She would go to school, learn to read, and grow up to make her own choices about how to dress, how to live, whom to marry. It was everything Laura had ever wanted for her and more.
And Javier.
He’d left the Teams and was free to start a new life for himself. He hadn’t said much about what he wanted to do next or how long he planned to stay in Denver. But she knew he loved her. Whatever he wanted to do, wherever he wanted to live, she would make it work for both of them.
She’d had a lot of time to think during those long weeks after he’d left, and she knew what mattered most to her. Yes, her career was important, but life was too short and uncertain to spend focused on a job. When Kimball had held that knife to her throat, she hadn’t been sorry about time she wouldn’t spend in the newsroom and articles she wouldn’t get to write. She’d regretted not having had more time with Javier.
Her gaze fell on the laundry basket, his socks and boxer briefs mixed with her panties, their jeans tangled. She hadn’t been looking for a man, hadn’t been looking to fall in love. But somehow, in the midst of her pain and fear and grief, life had seen fit to give her this precious gift.
And from far away she heard her grandmother’s words.
Allt kommer att bli bättre med tiden.
Everything will get better with time.
* * *
AFTER SUPPER, THEY went for a walk along the river to help work off the jet lag, the evening air cool and fresh, golden light spilling over the mountains. The Platte was running high and fast, swallows dipping down for water, cottonwood trees standing on the far bank, their leaves shivering in the breeze.
Javier held Laura’s hand, savoring the moment as they talked about everything and nothing in particular. It felt good just to be with her like this—nothing to do, nowhere to be. Then she asked a question that caught him by surprise.
“If you went back to Coronado and told NSW you’d made a mistake, do you think they’d take you back?”
Did she want him to go?
“Probably.” He’d had more than one friend who’d turned in his Trident only to show up a few months later in uniform again. “Why do you ask?”
“You loved being a SEAL. I hate to see you walk away from something that means so much to you. I don’t want you to regret that later.”
So she was still feeling guilty that he’d left his career behind.
“Come on.” He led her off the path and walked toward the riverbank, where they could talk without cyclists whizzing by. He sat on a rounded boulder and drew her down beside him, her hand still in his.
“I didn
’t resign just because I was about to go off and break international law, bella. I gave the Teams fourteen good years, and I realized it was time for me to go.”
“But three months ago you were so determined to get back to active duty.”
Yeah, he had been. But that had changed.
“You were right about me—you and Nate. Part of the reason I joined the Teams was to prove to myself and my family that I wasn’t a loser. I guess I thought I could somehow make up for what happened with Yadiel if I was just good enough. I realized that nothing I did—no amount of medals or successful missions—could bring him back or change who I am. I realized that if I wanted to build a life for myself outside the navy, I needed to start now. I’m thirty-eight and not getting any younger.”
“What are you thinking of doing?”
He was glad she asked. He’d been meaning to bring this up. “Not sure yet. McBride said he might have a place for me on his team as a deputy U.S. Marshal on the state’s fugitive task force. Tower wants the two of us to form our own security company now that Tower Global is gone. I need to think about it.”
“So . . . would that mean staying in Denver?” She spoke the words with a deliberate casualness that made him smile.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I walked away from you in Dubai, bella. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Is that your not-so-subtle way of suggesting we drop the ‘no strings attached’ clause from our relationship?”
“I want strings, Laura.”
She arched a blond eyebrow. “What kind of strings?”
“Nothing too crazy. I was thinking maybe I could have a couple of drawers for socks and underwear, maybe a rack in your closet, some space in the bathroom, my own parking place. Maybe I could even be your steady guy.”
She was smiling now. “You want to move into the loft and go steady with me?”
He raised his hands to her face, cupped her cheeks, told her what was really in his heart. “Or you could marry me instead.”
Her eyes went wide, her pupils dilating.