by Pamela Clare
Adrenaline?
“I know it’s a big step from no strings to rings, bella, but I fell in love with you that first night in Dubai. It just took me a while to realize it. I thought there’d be time. I thought I’d find you, but then you were gone. This love we feel for each other, it’s special, and I want to take hold of it with both hands.”
Laura looked into Javier’s eyes, the intensity she saw there making her pulse race. He’d just asked her to marry him. She hadn’t expected this. Not yet, anyway.
She had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak. “Are . . . are you sure? I’m on a terrorist kill list. Do you really want to live your whole life—”
“Looking over my shoulder?” His gaze traveled over her face. “Yeah, I do. In case you haven’t noticed, bad guys don’t scare me. What scares me is the idea of not being here when you need me.”
There was one other thing.
“You come from a big family with lots of brothers and sisters. Are you sure you won’t regret not being a father?”
He looked as if he might laugh. “I want to marry you, not your uterus. If I want to spend time with kids, I’ve got a dozen nieces and nephews. But there’s also a sweet little girl in Stockholm who means a lot to me. I didn’t have a thing to do with bringing her into this world, and I won’t raise her. But I held her life in my hands for a few priceless hours, and there’s a part of me that considers her ours. I want us to watch her grow up together.”
Tears blurred Laura’s vision, his words touching the most tender part of her, the tightness in her throat making it hard to speak.
He frowned and wiped a tear from her cheek, apparently misunderstanding. “If it’s too soon, I understand. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes.” She answered without the slightest hesitation or the tiniest shred of doubt.
“Yes?” He seemed confused. “You said yes.”
She laughed. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“Well, I . . .”
And she understood. “You didn’t plan this, did you?”
Like everything about him, it was spontaneous, sincere, straight from his heart.
“I wanted to ask you one day when the time seemed right, but we started talking and . . . Hell, I don’t even have a ring.” He looked into her eyes, his knuckles caressing her cheek. “I’m naked here, bella, just laying myself out for you, telling you how I feel.”
Something inside Laura melted to see this big, strong man so completely vulnerable. “What you’ve done for me . . . I never thought I’d feel this whole again. You helped me put the pieces of myself back together. But if my whole world fell apart again tomorrow, the piece I couldn’t live without is you. Your love has been my salvation, and I don’t want to live an hour of my life without you.”
He ducked down, kissed her slow and deep, then drew back, a look of astonishment on his handsome face. “¡Anda pal carajo! I’m going to marry you. Who’d have thought that a woman as classy and beautiful as you would end up with a Boricua kid from the South Bronx?”
Before Laura could say a word, he scooped her up in his arms and swung her in a circle, shouting for the world to hear. “¡Wepa!”
She shrieked, laughed, then found herself on her feet again, held tight in his arms.
“You won’t regret this, bella.”
She smiled, kissed him. “I know.”
They turned toward home, walking hand in hand.
For someone who’d never wanted to get married, Laura suddenly couldn’t wait. “We could get a license tomorrow and get married on Saturday.”
“Nah, that won’t do. Mamá Andreína would kick my ass. If my abuelita is not at the wedding, we’re not married.”
“So what you’re telling me is that this is going to be a case of ‘My Big Fat Puerto Rican Wedding’?”
He chuckled. “See what you got yourself into?”
But Laura wouldn’t change it for the world.
EPILOGUE
Seven months later
Private island of El Conquistador Resort
Off the eastern tip of Puerto Rico
LAURA WALKED HAND in hand with Javier toward a pair of waiting beach chairs, the sea breeze catching her hair, sand warm against the soles of her bare feet. She looked up and down the beach for Erik, Heidi, and the girls. “Do you see them?”
“They’re probably eating lunch.”
She’d forgotten it was almost noon. “I guess we slept late.”
“Sleep had nothing to do with it.” Javier grinned.
Grandma Inga and Mamá Andreína sat side by side beneath a beach umbrella of palm fronds. Javier’s two sisters, Ana and Nayelis, were having an animated conversation while sunning themselves on beach towels. Sophie, Megan, Kat, Tessa, and Kara sat in the sunshine closer to the water, talking and watching their kids play together in the sand. Marc, Nate, Julian, and Kara’s husband, Reece, had taken on some of Javier’s former Team buddies in a game of beach volleyball—John LeBlanc, Brian Desprez, Chris Ross, and Steve Zimmerman.
“If you’re going to call it, Hunter, at least hit the damned ball.”
“If your foot hadn’t tripped me, Dickangelo, I would have.”
“You guys do know how to play this game, right?” Reece asked.
“They probably learned the rules by watching women in bikinis play,” Nate said.
John ended the bickering. “You ladies going to talk or play volleyball?”
Meanwhile, Holly sat in her bikini in the shade near the bar holding court with three of Javier’s male cousins—while sneaking covert glances at the shirtless SEALs in the volleyball pitch.
Natalie and Zach were nowhere to be seen. She had a good idea where they were. Having been married for almost two years now, they wanted a baby.
Laura glanced out over the waves, saw someone dangling a hundred feet in the air from a parasail that was being towed by a boat. “Oh, God! Is that Gabe up there?”
Javier glanced up. “Looks fun, doesn’t it?”
“Suicidal is more the word I was looking for.”
They settled into their beach chairs. Laura peeled off the short dress she’d worn as a cover-up, the sun warm on her skin, her body feeling languid from a morning of sleeping in, room service, and sex. She pulled a tube of sunscreen out of her beach tote, rubbed it into her exposed skin.
“Sure you don’t need help?” Javier watched her, his eyes hidden by sunglasses. “You’ve got a lot of skin, and I’ve got two big hands.”
“Can you put it on my back?” She turned away from him, drew her hair aside.
“You got it.” He took the tube from her, planting a kiss on her neck before he began to rub the cream into her shoulders.
They had arrived in Puerto Rico three days ago amid a whirlwind of nightlong parties and wedding preparations, men from Cobra International Solutions, Javier and Derek’s security company, having come to the island two days earlier to make certain the place was secure. Laura had left most of the planning to the resort—one of the best decisions she’d made in this entire process. She’d been able to join in the parties and get to know Javier’s parents, siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins, and nieces and nephews, rather than worrying about arrangements. And she’d been able to spend a little bit of each day with Klara, who had just turned three in December.
Many of their friends had flown in for the ceremony, and although some had already returned home, most saw this as their chance to have an all-expenses-paid vacation. True, Laura and Javier had spent a fortune, but it had been important to them to have the ceremony they wanted, one that brought together their far-flung families and friends for a once-in-a-lifetime celebration. They didn’t face the future expense of children—no strollers, no braces, no prom, no cars, no college to pay for—so why not make the most of their special day?
And i
t had been perfect.
The ceremony had been held amid palm trees and tropical flowers atop a cliff overlooking the ocean, far from the prying eyes of the media. Laura had felt at peace, a gentle breeze tugging on her veil as she and Javier had spoken their vows. She would never forget the look in his eyes as he’d slipped the wedding band on her finger—happiness, desire, and enough love to last a lifetime.
The reception had gone on through the night, with music, dancing, drinking, and singing. Laura and Javier had passed out capias—little tokens of the wedding that included the date and their names and were an old Puerto Rican tradition—and then sneaked away for a private celebration of their own.
Laura couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful wedding—or wedding night.
“You’re all greased.” Javier finished, handing Laura the sunscreen, and leaned back in his chair.
Laura tucked the tube back in her bag and settled in beside him.
Nearby, Grandma Inga and Mamá Andreína erupted into peals of laughter. They’d been inseparable since the wedding—a true odd couple. Laura’s grandmother was tall and spoke not a word of Spanish, and Mamá Andreína was petite and spoke no Swedish. The only thing they had in common was white hair and a tiny bit of conversational English—and the fact that their grandchildren had just gotten married.
“What do you think the two of them are talking about?”
“No clue. Can they even understand each other?”
“Have they been drinking again?”
“Your grandma is a bad influence on mine.”
Laura gave a laugh. “It’s the other way around. Look at the bottle they’ve tucked between their chairs. Isn’t that Mamá Andreína’s licor de chinas?”
Javier craned his neck. “What’s she doing with that? That shit is illegal, man.”
A homemade brew of rum and oranges, it was one of the most delicious liqueurs Laura had ever tasted, but it was strong.
And then Laura saw them.
Stella and Anette appeared first, bounding on foal-like legs across the sand, both wearing their red hair pulled back in ponytails. Klara ran after them on little legs that couldn’t quite keep up, the sight of her putting a bittersweet ache in Laura’s chest. She wore a little pink tankini, her dark hair drawn back in a long ponytail, a pink sun hat on her head, green plastic sunglasses covering her eyes. She was adorable.
Heidi called to the twins in Swedish, her hands full of beach toys. “Stella! Anette! Wait for your little sister!”
“She’s grown so much already.”
Javier rested his hand on Laura’s. “She’s going to be tall like her mother.”
Laura watched as the twins turned back for Klara, each of them taking her by one hand and leading her toward the water, Heidi behind them.
“Aw.” Javier grinned. “Now that was cute.
“Those girls really do love her.”
Javier chuckled. “Look at that poor bastard.”
Clearly the family’s beast of burden, Erik had appeared dragging a rolling cooler while carrying two beach bags and five folding beach chairs, two for adults and three little ones for the girls. Wearing a blue tropical shirt that he hadn’t bothered to button over a green pair of swim trunks, and a pair of loafers on his feet, he reminded Laura of every Swedish father she’d ever seen on the beach—indulgent of his family and not very fashionable.
Laura looked back toward the girls playing in the sand. Klara sat, legs splayed, digging with a plastic shovel and making dubious contributions to a sand castle that her two older sisters had begun. Heidi knelt beside them, a happy smile on her face. She looked up, saw Laura watching, and motioned for her to join them. “Would you girls like your aunt Laura to play with us?”
“Yes!” the twins answered, Stella looking over at Laura and waving.
“You go spend time with that sweet baby girl of yours.” Javier sat up, kissed Laura’s cheek, then called to Erik. “You look like a man who needs a hand.”
“Oh!” Erik laughed, two of the little beach chairs slipping from his fingers. “I suppose I do.”
Laura walked across the sand, her pulse picking up as she sat down beside Klara. “What are you all building?”
“A sand castle,” the twins answered.
Klara looked up at Laura with guileless blue eyes. Speaking in Swedish, she parroted Anette and Stella. “Sand castle.”
Laura met the gaze of the wonderful woman who was raising her child. “Thank you, Heidi, for letting me join in. Thank you for everything.”
Nineteen years later
Los Angeles, California
JAVIER STOOD AT the side of the stage, watching as Laura gave the commencement address at Klara’s college graduation at USC Annenberg’s School of Journalism. Earpiece discreetly in place, he listened as his men checked in with one another. Tower was directing this operation, but Javier had come strapped anyway, body armor and a concealed 9mm beneath his suit jacket. Although it was unlikely that anything would happen today, he wasn’t taking chances.
College officials had let slip that Laura would be addressing her goddaughter’s graduating class, and the media had picked up on that. One paper had even run a photograph of Klara. Though almost twenty years had gone by since Javier had carried Klara out of Pakistan, there was a possibility, however remote, that someone would put the pieces together. He, Tower, and a team from CIS were there to make sure no one got near her.
And then there was Laura’s safety to consider.
Her very presence here had caused a stir. As the face of the nation’s top prime-time news program—the network had fired Gary Chapin and brought her on board the moment they’d heard she was interested in returning to broadcast journalism—she was more of a celebrity than she’d ever been, her ordeal a matter of public knowledge. Although there hadn’t been a credible threat against her in a decade, the public nature of the event would give anyone who wanted to harm her an opportunity.
But so far, all had been quiet.
“It is true that reporters see both the best and the worst that human beings have to offer. Over time, it gets hard not to be cynical. It will take a lot of integrity on your part to keep your mind and heart open, to see beyond the brokenness and dysfunction of the people you meet, to be that voice for the voiceless.”
Javier knew Laura’s speech by heart. She’d been nervous about it and had asked him to listen as she’d read it a half dozen times. Javier knew the cause of her nerves wasn’t a lack of confidence in her own abilities, but the fact that Klara was in the audience. Their little angel was graduating summa cum laude with a degree in journalism. She’d been inspired by her aunt Laura, whom she looked up to and loved, and despite Laura’s suggestion that she follow a new and exciting path that was all her own, Klara had been determined. She wanted to become a reporter.
Journalism was clearly in the girl’s DNA. She had already lined up an internship with the L.A. Times-Sentinel, and she’d done it without Laura’s help. Her excitement for the job reminded him so much of Laura that it scared the shit out of him. So far she hadn’t talked about going overseas to work, and for that he was grateful.
He loved the girl, loved her like she was his own daughter.
“Remember that life is not just your career. A career is what you do. It’s not who you are. This was a lesson I had to learn the hard way. You’d be surprised how fast your priorities rearrange themselves when there’s a knife being held to your throat.”
Laura’s speech was almost done. Javier could see that her audience was transfixed. He knew what they saw when they looked up at her, because it was what he saw every day—a beautiful woman with a big heart, a courageous survivor, a person who’d been through the worst and had come out stronger and more determined to make a difference in her world.
They saw a hero.
“When you leave this ceremony today, yo
u walk in the footsteps of a dozen generations of American journalists whose job it has been to shine a light into the darkness. They made their mark on the history of our nation. Stand strong, think with your heart, and you will make yours. Congratulations, graduates of the class of 2033.”
The audience of students and parents rose as one to its feet, the applause deafening. Onstage, Laura shook the university president’s hand and those of several professors, a smile on her face. She took her seat, while the president asked the students to stand, invited them to move their tassels, and pronounced them graduates.
Cheers. Flying beach balls. Mortarboards in the air.
Laura came down the steps, the question in her eyes.
He answered before she could ask. “You nailed it. That was fantastic.”
“You think so?”
“Did you miss that standing ovation?”
She smiled. “I didn’t want to disappoint Klara.”
He saw Klara making her way toward them, a bright smile on her sweet face. “I don’t think you did.”
“Aunt Laura!” Klara ran up, dressed in her black robe, and threw her arms around Laura. “That was beautiful. I got tears in my eyes.”
“Congratulations, sweetheart! I’m so proud of you. We’re both so proud of you.”
Klara hugged Javier and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “You look so handsome, Uncle Javi. I’m not used to seeing you in a suit. But what’s this?”
She punched his body armor lightly, teasing him. She knew what he did for a living, had seen him in body armor more than once.
“That’s my toned and muscular body.” Javier flexed his bicep. “You think your beautiful aunt would hang around with just any guy?”
Klara laughed, her smile making her look even more like her mother. “Are you coming to dinner with us?”
“Of course!” Laura glanced at her watch. “I want to head back to the hotel and change, but we’ll meet you in the hotel lobby in an hour and go together.”
“Perfect!” Klara danced off through the crowd, beaming, her long, dark hair spilling down her back.