Glancing across the room, he caught sight of Staff Sergeant Anderson. Adam scanned the room looking for Marc. Luke and Grant were tending bar, and Angie and Cassie were serving cake. Finally, he found Marc pouring champagne at a table in the corner of the dining room. Damned if he wasn’t serving bubbly to Marc’s Gramps and Karla’s grandma, the two of them with their heads bent toward each other as they shared a toast and a laugh. Love was in the air for more than the bride and groom today. Age didn’t matter. It was never too late to love. He squeezed Karla’s hands, so blessed that he had her.
But he needed to do something right now without her. “Excuse me for a minute, kitten, but I need to make some long overdue introductions.” He bent down to kiss her lips—big mistake. After a few moments, he broke it off while he still could and sent Karla off to talk with her parents. When Marc looked in his direction, Adam motioned for him to come over.
Marc grabbed a couple champagne classes and came over to them. “Yes, sir.”
“Cut the sir crap.”
“Sorry, sir. It's the uniform. Old habits and all.” Marc grinned. “Where’s your wife? Surely you haven’t ticked her off already.”
“No, she’s not tired of me yet.” He glanced over at her and saw she was looking at him. Her smile just about did him in, but he forced himself to turn back to Marc. “There’s someone I want you to meet. From Kandahar.” He could tell from Marc’s sobering expression he knew who it was.
“I’d like that very much.”
They walked over to Anderson who stood with his petite Filipino wife and a little girl who must be almost ten now. After a few social pleasantries, he indicated Marc.
“Anderson, there’s someone who’s been wanting to meet you for a long time, but the opportunity just never arose. This is a Navy Corpsman who served in one of my units in Fallujah."
Marc extended his hand. “Marc D’Alessio. Adam tells me you were with my brother, Gino, when he was killed.”
Mrs. Anderson gasped and tears came to her eyes. She placed a protective arm around her daughter. Anderson shook Marc’s hand. “Your brother saved my life. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that he was killed. I think of him every day and the sacrifice he made.”
“When Adam told me what happened and about you having a wife and baby back home,” Marc smiled at the little girl and her mom, “I know my brother would have made the same decision ten times over.”
Adam felt Karla slip up beside him. He didn’t really want her to have to hear this conversation, but couldn’t very well tell her to shove off. He introduced her to the Andersons.
“Mrs. Montague, your husband was a hero to the men caught in that ambush in Kandahar. Knowing him, he probably never told you anything about that.”
Fuck. He really didn’t need her to hear this. “Anderson, it was good to see you and your family and thanks for coming, but I think Karla and I need to…”
“Tell me more, Staff Sergeant Anderson. I always want to know more about my husband’s military service.”
Adam drew more and more uncomfortable as Anderson recounted his actions that day, saving all but two of the men in the unit who had been ambushed and that he’d taken shrapnel to the back.
“So, you’re confirming what I’ve known all along.” Karla turned to him and smiled, pride shining in her eyes. “My husband is truly a hero—and I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
Adam shook his head. There’d be no convincing her otherwise, but he could at least distract her. He took her by the arm, “If you’ll excuse us, I think my wife and I need to be thinking about shoving off soon.” Marc quickly excused himself, as well, and hurried off in the direction of the foyer.
“Kitten, if I hear one more thing about heroes, I’ll take my belt—buckle and all—to your soft ass.” She giggled. Damn her. He felt his balls tighten. “Run upstairs and change. But bring the harem costume with you. You’ll need it tonight.”
Fifteen minutes later, after Adam had quickly made the rounds, thanking everyone he knew had played some part in making this wedding day special for Karla, he realized a number of his buddies had disappeared. He grinned. Of course. He went to say goodbye to his mother and to make sure she didn’t go out in the cold for the final ceremony.
Minutes later, in the foyer, he looked up and saw Karla coming down the stairs, wearing a black cocktail dress and carrying a small suitcase. He ran up the stairs to take it from her. “You shouldn’t be lifting that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Adam, there’s hardly anything in it. I’m not an invalid, you know.”
“You just promised to obey me, so you’d better start now. New rule: No heavy lifting.”
She sighed. “Yes, Sir.”
“Let’s go.”
“But I haven’t had a chance to say goodbye to my parents or your mother or…”
“You’ll see them soon.”
She quirked an eyebrow, but turned for him to wrap a cape around her, pulling her hair corset out and letting it lay against her back. He wrapped his arm around her, picked up her suitcase, and they headed toward the front door. Adam put his cover on his head and managed to get his gloves on his hands before the command was given.
“Center face!” The officers and NCOs who had been gathering at the front of the house formed to facing lines. “Draw swords!”
“Oh, my!” He looked down at his bride, whose eyes were open wide. She looked up at him. “Did you know about this?”
“I had my suspicions.”
Their friends and family were sprawled on the lawn, with snow flurries flying around them.
Chaplain Brown, who had been giving the commands, then announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Master Sergeant and Mrs. Montague.”
“Ready, tiger?”
“Ready and willing, Sir.”
The two of them walked side-by-side, arm-in-arm under the saber arch. As the approached the fourth and final pair, the swords were lowered, blocking their path.
“Price to pass—a kiss!”
Adam stopped and turned Karla toward him. She giggled until he lowered his face to hers. As his lips pressed against hers, she locked her arms around his neck, her mouth opening beneath his as he assaulted her senses. He knew he should cut this short. Hell, they had the rest of their lives together and people were freezing out here. But he enjoyed kissing his wife too much.
His wife. Damn, he liked the sound of that.
When he pulled away, he heard her moan in frustration and she gave him a smoldering look. As the swords were lifted, they walked under the final pair and Richardson tapped Karla on the ass with his sword. She squealed in surprise.
“On behalf of the United States Marine Corps, welcome to the family, ma’am.”
Everyone laughed and he proceeded to guide her toward the driveway.
Karla stopped short again. “What the f…heck is that?”
Adam looked down at her and smiled. “My wedding present to you.”
The new white vehicle in the driveway, decorated with red balloons and streamers, sported what he hoped was washable paint proclaiming the couple inside was “Just Hitched.” He turned to Marc and Damián and glared. They just smiled back, proudly.
“Adam Montague, if you think I’m going to drive around in that…that…tank, you need to have your head examined.”
He turned his attention to his bride again. His very ungrateful bride. What was the problem? He’d thought she’d be pleased to see how far he’d go to protect her and the baby. Besides, didn’t she know how hard it was to get one delivered on such short notice? He’d had is shipped from New York. What was wrong with the woman?
“There’s no safer vehicle I can buy you as a civilian. You’re not going to be driving anything that’s not safe. I’m thinking of the kids, too.”
“Kids?”
“Well, one at a time, of course, but I thought we’d have maybe half a dozen or so.”
Karla’s draw dropped and he fought the urge to take her mouth wi
th his. The moment ended when her gaze returned to the Hummer, then back at him. She smiled sweetly, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Adam, dear, it was very nice of you to get me my own vehicle.” Her gaze grew steely. “But there’s no fu…freaking way I’m driving around in a Hummer.”
“You’ll drive whatever I tell you to drive.”
“I’m not your slave. We’re not TPE. And I am not driving that…that thing.”
Adam was speechless. They’d been married a couple of hours and already she was defying him. “What happened to the part about you obeying your husband?”
“Well, if my husband makes unreasonable demands, I reserve the right to disobey—respectfully, of course.” Again, the saccharine smile.
Holding her hand tightly in the crook of his elbow before he gave her a wedding day spanking in front of her family and friends, he led her to the passenger side of the vehicle and opened the door. “I’m driving tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll share the drive to our destination, or you won’t have your honeymoon anywhere but our bedroom at the club.”
He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. After a few moments, she pulled the cape to herself and got into the Hummer, making sure the cape wouldn’t get caught in the door. He shook his head and, as he walked around the hood of the tank, as she called it, then heard Marc’s laughter. Adam refused to look at him and give him any satisfaction.
Clearly, his wife needed to learn more about obedience and respect. Starting tonight.
Epilogue
Damián climbed the external stairs to his apartment in the renovated motel building and unlocked the door. He’d left Rosa, Teresa, and José at Marc’s. Lots more room there than in his one-room apartment. Besides, Marc had promised to outfit them at his shop and take them up on the slopes for ski lessons tomorrow morning. None of them had ever been skiing. Neither had Damián, for that matter, and he didn’t think he ever would be.
His family planned to stay a couple more days, and then fly back. Without him. Rosa insisted she was okay now, although he wasn’t so sure. But Savi had gotten her started in therapy sessions with a colleague and, with Julio in custody, Rosa wasn’t as scared.
Time for Damián to start job hunting Monday. Good thing he’d managed to save up some money, so it wasn’t as bad as when he lost his job at the hotel after he got fired for rescuing Savannah. As an amputee, he sure didn’t have the Marines to fall back on this time.
Maybe he’d go by the bike shop where he’d worked until Teresa was raped and see if they'd take him back. If not, he could put in his application at some other shops in town. Maybe someday he’d have his own shop.
Yeah, right after pigs start flying.
The money he’d been saving had gone to help Rosa and the kids, so he was back at square one. He went to the fridge and pulled out a Dos Equis bottle. With the remote in his other hand, he sat down on the couch and flipped through the channels until he found the cable show on Harley Davidsons and leaned back. Mid swig, the doorbell rang.
Who the hell would be coming over here tonight? He never had company. Maybe something was wrong with Rosa or the kids. With a sigh, he laid his bottle on the coffee table and hauled himself up out of the couch.
He looked out the peephole, but only saw the back of someone’s head. A redheaded-female, someone he didn’t recognize. Sliding the deadbolt, he opened the door. As if in slow motion, Savi Baker turned around to face him. She wore sunglasses, which was odd, considering it was nighttime. But he recognized her slender, perfect nose and those sexy full lips.
His heart jumped into his throat. “Did something happen to Teresa?”
“Teresa? No.” Her eyes opened wider. “No! I’m sure she’s fine.”
Then what the hell was Savannah—Savi—doing in Denver? A blast of cold air made him aware she wasn’t wearing a very substantial coat. “Come in.” He stood out of the way and motioned her inside.
“No, I can’t. I…” She turned and looked down at the parking lot, then back at him. Her eyes were filled with pain and worry. What was wrong? His protective instincts went on red alert, but first he needed answers.
“Why are you here? How did you find me?” What’s wrong?
She closed her eyes and tried to compose herself, then looked up at him. “I looked at the next of kin info in Teresa’s file.”
Wasn’t that against some code of ethics or something? Not that he’d complain. He’d dreamed of her finding him like this many times. Well, maybe not in this exact scenario, but…
“We need your help.”
“We?”
She looked back down at the parking lot and he glanced down over the railing to see what or who she was looking at, but didn’t see anyone. When he looked back up at Savi, she’d removed the glasses. Her right eye was swollen and puffy. Someone’s fist had slammed into it.
“Who hit you?”
“I can’t say, but we need a place to hide out for awhile, until I can figure out what to do.”
Oh, shit, of course. “Marisol? Is she okay?”
Savi nodded. “She’s asleep in the car. We drove day and night. I was afraid to fly or stay in motels. I didn’t want to leave a trail.”
What the hell was going on with her? Who was chasing her? And why?
“Look, that car’s going to get cold PDQ. Why don’t you get Marisol and come inside to warm up?”
She held her arm to her side and admitted in a husky voice, “I can’t lift her.” Did she have other injuries? Maybe he needed to get Doc over here to check her out.
“Give me your keys. I’ll get her.”
She seemed reluctant to turn her keys over to him at first, but when another blast of cold air hit her in the face, she looked down at the parking lot and pulled the keys out of her jacket pocket. “Follow me.”
“No. You don’t need to be going up and down those stairs. You look like you’re about to keel over. Just tell me which car.”
“The light blue Nissan.” She pointed and he saw the sedan parked under the light.
“Go sit down. I’ll be right back.”
Good thing he hadn’t removed his prosthesis yet. Last thing he wanted her to see was his gimpy leg. He went back down the stairs, holding onto the rail so that he wouldn’t have a mis-step, and walked across the lot to the car. Using the remote, he unlocked it and found Marisol lying across the back seat, even though she was still strapped in. He unbuckled her and pulled her toward him.
She moaned in her sleep.
“Shhh. It’s okay, bebé.” He remembered all the times he’d carried Teresa to bed when she’d fallen asleep watching TV and wished she were that small and innocent again. Marisol’s dead weight lay against his shoulder and he closed and locked the door again. He’d come down for the luggage, if any, after he got this little bundle into bed.
The stairs were a little trickier to ascend this time, but he managed to hold onto her with one arm while he used his other to help pull him up the stairs and keep him steady. At the top of the stairs stood Savi; apparently, she hadn’t trusted him to carry her daughter up the stairs.
And yet she’d driven halfway across the country to come to him for help of some kind. What was up with that?
Savi fell into step beside him and opened the door for him, then locked it again after they’d entered the apartment. He turned to whisper to her, “Help me get her into bed. Then we’ll talk.” Damián led the way across the living room and stood beside the bedroom door, which she opened for him. A blast of cold air hit him. He’d need to turn the heat on in here to warm it up. He’d give Savi and Marisol the bed and he'd sleep on the sofa. Good thing the bed had clean linens and was made up.
Savi pulled down the red, green, and white mosaic comforter and he laid the little girl’s head on the pillow and guided her legs onto the bed. When he reached to remove her shoes, Savi grabbed his hands.
“No! I’ll do that.”
Holding up his hands, he backed off to let the girl’s overpro
tective mother take care of her, while he went to the wall near the doorway to turn up the thermostat. He whispered, “It’ll warm up in here in no time.” Savi left Marisol’s clothes on and pulled the comforter and sheet over her. Bending down to kiss her, Damián couldn’t help but notice her curvy ass in her tight jeans. He tried not to remember their day in the beach cave, making love and connecting in such a way he’d never thought they’d be able to leave each other.
But they had.
Savi stood and turned and he noticed she winced and held her hand to her side again. Had someone hit her in the ribs? What the fuck had happened? Did a perp connected with one of her clients come after her? Shit. Doesn’t the clinic offer any kind of protection for its counselors? That was a dangerous line of work, given the violence and abuse associated with the clients.
Madre de Dios. What if it was her husband? That made more sense even. Domestic violence was rampant these days. He planned to get some answers and soon.
He motioned for her to precede him back into the living room. When he started to close the door, she stayed his hand. “No!” She looked apologetic for getting so excited. “Mari might wake up and be frightened to find herself in a strange bed.”
Sure. Why hadn’t he thought of that?
“Can I get you a Coke, beer, tea, or something?”
“No Kool-aid?” She smiled and her teasing took him by surprise.
“Sorry. When the munchkins aren’t around, I prefer beer.” He smiled.
“A Coke sounds good. I need to keep my wits about me.”
Damián wasn’t sure if it was because of him or whatever threat she was running from. He hoped it wasn’t him. Surely she knew he’d never hurt her. Hadn’t he proven that in her hotel room and at the beach all those years ago?
He went to the fridge and pulled out a can of Coke. “Glass and ice?”
“No. The can’s fine.”
He handed it to her. “Let me take your jacket.”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll just keep it on.”
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