by Calista Fox
His teeth ground.
She further contended, “In the grand scheme of things...wasn’t it better that she took the approach of making a sacrifice of one person in order to serve the greater good?”
“Don’t start quoting Mr. Spock on me, Nik.”
She smirked. “I’m making a valid case here. And given that I’m the sacrificial lamb—well, along with my laptop—shouldn’t I get a say in this trial by fire?”
She instantly gave this the full consideration it was due.
Damen seemed to know her brain was suddenly churning, because he didn’t immediately respond.
Nikki gazed up at him and earnestly asked, “Should I submit a statement on her behalf? Or, even more significantly—possibly—could I appear before your superiors of this ops jury and offer my comments as to Garcia’s actions and her invaluable skills, in person?”
“Her invaluable skills? Nik, you’ve been furious that she planted that device in your computer.”
“Not ‘planted,’ per se,” she corrected him. “Strategically transported.”
He gaped. For all of a second. Then he scowled. Then he insisted, “Really, Nik? ‘Strategically transported?’ Have you forgotten you were shot at?”
A chill ran through her. “No, I have not. And you know that; of course, I haven’t forgotten. It’s just that... What’s the term you used? I was a mule—an effective one. On Fiora’s side, a smart one. You, technically, played right into her tactic. You knew I was bugged, was being followed...and you weren’t going to let anything happen to me. She was perfectly aware of this and used your affection for me to her benefit. And....this all was a benefit, Damen. You can’t deny that. No one can.”
“I can, however, assert that in doing all of this, in executing her strategic transportation of terrorist information, she put your life in jeopardy. Mine as well.”
“But...” Nikki took a step toward him and imploringly added, “She was successful in her mission. Yes?”
Damen held a hand up and took one wide stride backward. “Oh, no...” he muttered. “You’re not going to use my affection for you against me in this instance, Dr. Kane. I am so fucking onto you.”
She snickered. “Damen—”
“Nik.” He pinned her with a sharp look. “You can sway me to your side regarding just about anything under the sun. But when it comes to guns being drawn on you and us narrowly escaping rounds being fired...”
His dark eyes deepened in color, until they almost resembled polished obsidian stones.
He continued.
“Your life was threatened, when it never should have been. You could have been killed, when all you’d been trying to do was help those who’d been traumatized during the explosions. I am not going to trivialize the danger you’ve been in since we met, since that device was embedded in your computer, since you became the carrier of terrorists’ secrets. Goddamn it, Nikki...” He raked a hand through his thick hair. Then he said, “Your camaraderie with Agent Garcia does not exonerate her. Don’t think for a fucking second that it does.”
He whirled around on the heels of his expensive Italian leather shoes and stalked off. Right through one of the intricately designed doors the butler opened for him.
Leaving Nikki standing there, gaping.
And wondering if her attempt to help Fiora Garcia’s case had just been turned upside down...and she’d actually just tightened the noose around the woman’s neck.
Oh, Fuck.
45
Nikki joined Mrs. Castillo and Mads in the family room to help decorate the tall, full tree, which took quite a bit of time, a couple of glasses of eggnog and innumerable Christmas songs they sang in both English and Spanish.
The backdrop for the gorgeous, freshly cut and recently delivered Douglas fir was a double-paned window running from floor to ceiling, with thick patches of fresh powder gathered in the corners and glittering against the glass as the breeze blew the falling snowflakes toward this side of the mansion.
Mads was ecstatic that it was snowing and she chattered on and on about how she hoped Uncle Damen had bought her snowboarding gear and lessons for Christmas, because she “dessssperately” wanted to learn. All of her friends were boarding and it was apparently severely uncool that she only knew how to ski.
Damen’s mother winked at Nikki, confirming Damen did, indeed, intend to make this particular wish come true for his niece.
Nikki could practically hear his rich, intimate voice in her head, musing, “God forbid Mads should ever be considered severely uncool by her peers.”
To which Nikki would reply, “With that hair? Never.”
She smiled inwardly, thinking how (all-too easily) she could have a mental conversation with Damen and know precisely how it would go.
Though… Perhaps she shouldn’t actually smile over that revelation.
She was attempting to extricate herself from this entire scenario, wasn’t she? Not get more deeply mired in it, more intricately tangled in family affairs and Damen’s glowing blue eyes and his warm timbre and his hunky body and…
Oh, good grief.
She shook all these thoughts from her head.
She wanted to claim she wouldn’t be having them if she’d only made her flight this morning.
But Nikki knew that was a blatant lie.
So she didn’t even try to convince herself of it.
After Mads had safely climbed the ladder to secure the angel on top of the tree, one of the many butlers—evidently, there were different ones for different times of the day—served champagne to Nikki and Mrs. Castillo, and sparkling white grape juice to Mads.
The ladies clinked rims and sipped. Though Mads was only good for half a flute, because she was busy and buzzing around like a hyperactive bee, ensuring all the presents were retrieved from whatever secret hiding place Damen and his mother had designated and arranged perfectly under and around the tree. She conducted this entire orchestration, along with the appropriate filling of the stockings hanging from the hearth, which had a warm, crackling blaze in it.
“This one is yours, Dr. Kane,” Mads demonstrably pointed out a unicorn-shaped stocking that matched her own and had Dr. Kane scrolled across the neck in colorful glitter.
“It’s gorgeous,” Nikki told her. “Thank you for thinking of me, Mads.”
“Of course,” she beamed. Then very politely said, “Thank you for being here with us.” She gave a delicate curtsy before further adding, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to text a bunch of my friends and show them pictures of the pancakes I made this morning.”
“Wait!” Nikki called out. “Aren’t we going to light the tree?”
“We do that after dinner,” Mads informed her. “And you are going to love the tamales!”
“Without doubt,” Nikki concurred.
Mads dashed off.
Nikki accepted a refresh of the crisp, effervescent bubbly and enjoyed it with Mrs. Castillo as they lounged on the sofa in front of the fire.
Nikki said, “Mads seems to be adjusting well.”
“Her therapist did suggest that keeping her overactive mind preoccupied helps her to maintain forward movement.”
“Rather than dwelling on the past—and tragic events she can’t change.”
“It’s heartbreaking, but true.”
“Losing someone you love is quite traumatic. Losing two someones… And at such a young age. That’s even more complicated to cope with and overcome.”
“We’ve all learned that being surrounded by the right people—family—is just as critical as expressing our feelings and working through them with a professional.”
“I’m so glad you all have recognized and accepted that. It’s a huge step, a huge leap of faith to take when you seek outside help. But a crucial one.”
“An essential one,” the other woman contended. “I would prefer it if Damen would partake more frequently in therapy sessions, but he’s usually too busy.”
“It’s not just about maki
ng time,” Nikki pointed out. “It’s about acknowledging a need. In Damen’s case, I suspect it’s imperative to him that he remain a pillar of strength—not only in his own mind, but also in yours and Mads’ eyes.”
“That’s very astute.”
“Problem is,” Nikki quietly averred, “even pillars require tending to. So they don’t eventually crumble.”
Glancing at Nikki over the rim of her glass, Mrs. Castillo asked, “Have you mentioned this to him?”
“We’ve pretty much danced around the subject. We’ve had other issues to tackle, I’m afraid.”
“Yes. I can imagine. I’m well aware of how dangerous his job is. For him to have brought you here tells me two things. One, you’ve been in grave danger right along with him. And two… He’s deeply concerned about your well-being. Beyond just…protecting a civilian. There are a multitude of ways he could accomplish this without bringing you home.”
Nikki’s heart wrenched. She attempted to explain the situation between her and Damen, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she realized she didn’t truly know what to say regarding this extremely delicate matter.
She especially didn’t know how to address it with Damen’s mother.
Who, thankfully, didn’t press Nikki.
So Nikki sipped a little more in silence.
Eventually, she simply offered, “We’ve been through a lot together, in a very short period of time. I trusted him enough to come here with him, and he’s trusted me not to obstruct evidence or his current mission. That, however, does not mean that we’re not wrapped in complications that might be… Unresolvable.”
There.
That basically said it all… Right?
Except, Mrs. Castillo continued to eye Nikki with an intrigued expression on her face as she mused, “Damen always has been captivated by complications. And when it involves a scenario he actually does have control over… My dear, in his mind, nothing is unresolvable.”
46
Mads had not exaggerated about how delicious the tamales she and her grandmother had made truly were.
The three of them had gathered in the dining room for a fabulous feast, and Damen had just joined them. Although he was wholly present and conversational, he was cryptic about how his day on the ops campus had gone, where they stood with the data and the information on the terrorist cell and what the actual fate of Nikki’s laptop was.
Unfortunately, Nikki already suspected the worst. And Damen’s silence on the matter confirmed her fears. Otherwise, he would have given her an indication there was still hope.
He was too conscientious to lead her down that path.
The reality of the situation sat like a rock in her stomach. Until the food was served. No way in hell could one not respond to the mouthwatering aroma suddenly permeating the room and the sight of the plump tamales, the rice and beans and a slew of other homemade Mexican food, including enchiladas and Nikki’s personal favorite, chiles en nogada. The stuffed poblano chiles were topped with a walnut-cream sauce that was rich and decadent. Pomegranate seeds and parsley were sprinkled over the white sauce, representing the colors of the Mexican flag, in a decorative manner.
Despite the mass quantities of food she’d consumed with Agent Garcia the previous day, Nikki devoured equal amounts this evening.
And…speaking of Agent Garcia…
Nikki’s gaze slid to Damen as he and his mother were engaged in a discussion and Mads was apparently debating what to eat next as she eyed the fancy serving dishes lining the center of the table.
Nikki reached for her wine and sipped. She still grappled with Fiora’s fate. While Damen had made a few salient points earlier that morning, regarding how Fiora’s actions had put Nikki’s life in danger and had destroyed her personal property, it still felt wrong to Nikki to sever the woman’s ties with the ops campus, with her entire career.
Moreover, Nikki wondered how difficult it would be for Fiora to get a job elsewhere. If she was released from her current government organization, would she be able to apply to another one?
Or…would her record be reflective of her decision to wittingly compromise the safety of a civilian in order to ensure national security?
Nikki continued to toil over this.
Naturally, she wasn’t thrilled of the circumstances or the outcome as it related personally to her. Yet… She could certainly view the situation objectively. That was part of her job, part of her training, after all.
Considering that, Nikki was back to ruminating over the thoughts she’d had previously, but which she had not yet brought to fruition. While Fiora was under investigation, suspension or was outright fired from her duties, there was—in fact—another opportunity for her.
With Nikki.
She wanted to take Fiora with her to Switzerland.
Nikki wanted to hire the agent as her own bodyguard. She trusted Fiora, as Damen had. And the woman had already proved she could think fast on her feet.
Since Nikki was in town for one more night, she had the chance to discuss this at length with Damen. And intended to.
First, however… There was more food to partake in. More wine to drink. And then a gorgeous dessert cart to not only admire, but also to dive into.
Afterward, they all made their way to the living room. Nikki was ridiculously content, and it helped to alleviate some of the tension between her and Damen.
There was such a distinct and dynamic push and pull between the two of them, she felt it to the depths of her soul.
When he glanced her way, her heart fluttered.
When she thought of leaving him in the morning, her heart sank.
But it was an inevitability…so.
While she enjoyed a coffee with tequila and a cinnamon sugar stick, Mads made a big production out of the tree lighting and ceremoniously plugged the primary strand into the outlet, effectively illuminating the whole damn room.
It was spectacular.
Whereas the “showoff” tree in the foyer was all golden and glitzy, the family one was vibrantly colorful and laden with all manner of ornaments—and Nikki had no doubt each and every one of them came with its own story and sentimental memory.
It was the very reason she’d selected a gorgeous, traditionally styled ornament at a shop in “Little Tijuana” as a gift for Damen’s mother.
She opened it as her one present for Christmas Eve, thanked Nikki with a warm smile and hung it on the tree.
Mads retrieved a small box from her stocking that she’d apparently scouted out earlier. Holding up the gift, she said to Nikki, “I know this one is from you.”
“I hope you have fun with it,” Nikki told her.
She tore at the paper, since it wasn’t of the coveted unicorn variety and then eyed the nondescript, glossy pink box.
“What is it?” Mads asked.
“Open it and find out.”
Mads did just that, folding back the flap and extracting a hard-plastic device.
“It’s a…stamper?” Mads ventured.
With a smile, Nikki crooked her finger and said, “Bring it here.”
Mads joined her on one of the sofas in front of the fireplace.
“Close your eyes,” Nikki instructed. Then she took the stamper and very carefully, very delicately placed it over one of Mads’ brows. Then the other.
“Okay,” she told Damen’s niece. “Now, go take a peek in the reflection of the windowpane.”
Mads skipped over to the tall glass, gazed at herself, then squealed in sheer delight. As excited as she’d been when she’d opened the package containing her pancake mold this morning.
“Oh, my gosh!” She whirled around to display her rainbow-colored eyebrows. “Look at this!”
Mrs. Castillo gaped.
Damen chuckled.
And Mads said, “This is the absolute coolest!”
“Comes off with soap and water and it’s hypoallergenic,” Nikki added, responsibly.
Damen told his niece, “Bear in mind, this i
s only for fun. Your school’s headmaster will never permit those eyebrows in a classroom, Mads.”
“I know, I know, but… After class!”
Mrs. Castillo said, “That is the cleverest thing…” Her gaze fell on Nikki. “Where on earth did you find that?”
“The shop next door to where I bought your ornament. Fiora’s cousin sells them—mostly for seriously filling in one’s brows, but there were also some decorative stampers and I couldn’t pass this one up.”
“It’s perfect,” Damen murmured as he joined her in the seat Mads had just vacated.
Nikki smiled. “The kid has an amazing spirit, Damen. Just needs nurturing.”
“You’re absolutely right.” His gaze lingered on her for a few moments. Then he said, “We have a gift for you as well, from the family.”
Mads brought it to Nikki and plopped down on the other side of her.
“Open it, open it, open it!” she urged Nikki.
With a soft laugh, she unwrapped the beautifully crafted package. Lifted the lid off the box and…
Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment as emotion prickled the backs of them.
She gave a slight shake of her head and said, “Well…talk about the perfect gift.”
It was a digital camera.
“I picked out the photo album,” Mads eagerly said. “And there’s a mini-printer, too.”
Nikki peeled back the mound of shimmery tissue paper to reveal the multi-colored album—which was compact in size. It’d fit easily in her luggage or her laptop bag.
“This is wonderful,” she told Mads and Mrs. Castillo. “Thank you.”
She turned to Damen, fighting the emotion creeping in on her.
“Point taken. Backup copies of my new favorite pictures.”
“And you can still take them everywhere you go.”
“Well.” Nikki swallowed down the lump rising in her throat. She sniffled and then more steadily said, “Why don’t you all stand by the tree and you’ll be my very first photo.”
It was a bittersweet moment, to be sure.