TWICE UPON A TIME

by Jennifer Wagner

  Oscar the Grouch had nothing on her.

  Her hair was a mess from her frustrated fingers, her clothes bore remnants of dinner, hopefully from little hands and not her own, her paleness held a twinge of green and definite meanness pinched her eyes and mouth.

  For a minute pride battled with feminine vanity. Let him see what she looked like after taking care of two energetic kids and a house. She wasn't a teenager who had all day to style her hair. Then again, days like today only happened in soap operas, she reasoned, and her personal makeup artist had split between takes.

  My God, look what's happened to me. Just this morning, I was a sane, happy woman. Now I'm standing here, having a conversation with myself and I'm losing. So, okay, Rico has come back from the dead and someone tried to kidnap Rafe. You can handle it! You're strong. You're intelligent.

  "If you stare at the mirror any harder, it'll shatter." The amused voice silenced her pep talk.

  She turned to see Rico leaning against the door frame, his white dress shirt open at the bottom and anchored behind each pocketed hand. The small triangle revealed abdominal muscle that created rippling shadows down to his jeans, the gold metal zipper winking at her.

  Realizing suddenly why the fly had become so obvious, she glanced up, hoping he hadn't noticed she noticed.

  A small smile quirked his mouth, and eyebrows arched over heated eyes.

  "Do you have a question to ask?" he cajoled, his husky voice causing unseen tremors in her.

  Because she didn't trust her voice, she glared until he chuckled and left.

  She looked back into the mirror at the added pink flush on her cheeks.

  Now, you're drooling.

  * * *

  She sank into the mattress, the cool goose down pillows cradling her pounding head, the covers embracing her aching body. Tomorrow I'll handle everything so much better. Tomorrow Rico can tell me about the people he's been talking to on his computer since bathtime. He'll have a solid plan for protecting the children, with trained people to help. Tomorrow I'll talk to Lina, put my behavior down to shock and be happy she has her son back. Just a few hours' sleep, even if they aren't deep and dreamless, and I'll be able to handle Rico.

  Checking the clock again, she realized her alarm would go off in thirty minutes. She would check the kids, peek through some blinds and try to sleep some more. This might not be the best plan, but Rico hadn't parted from his computer long enough to discuss the nighttime guard.

  Rico.

  No, stop thinking. Twenty-nine minutes till the alarm. Count sheep. Furry, white sheep jumping over a fence.

  The loose floorboard at the top of the stairs creaked. Her eyes flew open. One of the twins? No, she would have heard them pass her room. Lina had moved upstairs into the guest room so they were all on the same floor. Rico was on the computer in the kitchen or asleep on the pull-out couch. She slid her hand up under her pillow and curled it around the handle of the hammer she had grabbed thinking she should have some sort of defense just in case.

  Fear chilled her.

  A large form, shadowed by the hall nightlight, filled her doorway. She relaxed.

  "You can stop sneaking around," she growled.

  "How did you know it was me?" Rico whispered back, moving into her room.

  How did she? "I just did. How did you get up the stairs so quietly?"

  "I skipped the ones that make noise."

  She silently applauded that painful maneuver. He must have done two to three at a time to be so quiet. "Next time be loud. I'll assume it's not a murderer."

  He didn't answer, and she closed her eyes, praying for unconsciousness. One sheep, two sheep…

  "You've been amazingly calm about this situation."

  Now he wants to talk.

  "Would you rather I have a breakdown?" she murmured wondering idly if she really was, while ignoring the fact that he sat on her bed. Sleep. Let me fall asleep.

  "No. I expected more questions or yelling."

  Ah. The light dawns. "You expected me to blame you, right?"

  Silence.

  "What do you mean?" he asked warily.

  "You expected me to blame you and hold you responsible for Rafe's almost-kidnapping and the violent people who want to hurt my children." Three sheep, four sheep…

  A half snort, half laugh, then, "You always did know what I was thinking."

  Her fifth sheep crashed into the fence. "No, I didn't. Or I would have known you didn't trust me." She sat up and arranged the sheet and light blanket around her as he swung to face her in the semidarkness. She held up a hand and halted the words about to come from his open mouth. "No, now is not the time to argue about what happened years ago. If you're determined to ruin my sleep, you can tell me how we're going to keep us safe."

  She could hear him grinding his teeth. So, who cares if he's mad?

  "There are two agents outside right now watching the house."

  "Wait a minute, I thought you said before that you moved in here to protect us, but that you still want everyone to think you're Gage."

  "Right. I'm not positive the Balangerios know who I really am, so we're going to have to play this off as a whirlwind affair."

  "The problem with that plan is everyone who knows me will find the idea suspicious. Also, if you really believe I could know the informant, don't you think he or she is going to notice two men in an unmarked car?"

  He stifled his laughter and lowered his voice. "You've been watching too much television. You can look, but I guarantee you won't know they're there."

  If her legs didn't feel like dead weights she would go and look. "So the good guys are skulking with the bad guys. I feel much better."

  He ignored her sarcasm. "Tomorrow two others will take over. Our job will be to make a list of people you're in contact with. We'll go over them one by one until we figure out who's been watching you."

  "I forgot to ask how you found out someone's watching us."

  "I got an e-mail from Mike."

  "Your partner," she prodded.

  "Yeah. It was a sentence we came up with in D.C. to use if anyone started digging into Gage Moran's background. I've only given the name here, so I'm upsetting someone."

  He'd showered. The scent of soap mixed with warm male wrapped around her. She took a deep breath, searching her blank brain for something to say.

  He beat her to it. "Why would your friends become suspicious of my moving in?" A hand sank into the mattress next to her, bringing his leaning body closer. "I mean, you said you'd have no trouble finding another man should the 'need hit'."

  She really wasn't up to this right now. The only solution was to derail him. She sighed heavily and affected a bored tone, "Contrary to what you believe about me, I've never had men stay the night to be discovered by the twins the next morning, and my friends know this. Your moving in will look suspicious because we could easily have an 'affair' and you could walk home in the wee hours without the twins finding out. So why move in?"

  She couldn't see his features clearly, but she knew he was angry. Very angry.

  The silence stretched and she wavered on the idea of retrieving the gauntlet she'd thrown down.

  "I see. So to convince everyone, we'll have to show them how impossible it is to keep our hands off each other. I moved in so we could be together all the time, which they'll correctly translate means having sex whenever we have a minute alone. Since your friends know you so well, they won't be surprised by your taking in a stranger to satisfy your insatiable needs, will they?"

  It wasn't a question. With every word, he'd moved closer, his features coming into focus to match his hard, mocking whisper. Even though she played on his bad opinion of her, his insults hurt.

  "And don't worry," he continued. "Our agreement still stands. I won't kiss you until you order me to. But," he added, a finger coming up to gently swipe her bottom lip, "we'll have to put on a convincing show for anyone who stops by. You'll have to act like a woman in … lust. I'm sure you've h
ad enough practice."

  She wanted to tell him where to put his act, but couldn't speak past the lump in her throat.

  "Your voice when you talk to me, your body language, everything needs to show how in tune we are. Two people who know each other inside and out, totally familiar with each other's bodies. You know what kiss will weaken, which touch will heighten the pleasure. I'm sure you remember how it was between us, don't you, Bella?"

  How could she be so hurt and seduced by him at the same time? He truly believed her to be no better than the women who walked the streets outside their old Miami homes. Where was the Rico who protected her, cared for her, dreamed with her?

  And who were the women who'd weakened him with kisses and touched him so intimately? How many were there? Pain exploded through her chest as images flashed behind her eyes, hurting her far more than his low opinion of her.

  Boy, he'd get such a laugh if he knew the truth about her experiences. She needed him out of her room so she could ease this incredible aching in her chest. She couldn't let him see what his words were doing to her. She cleared her throat and tried to cover it by rearranging the covers around her.

  "Actually, I don't remember what it was like … with you. But I'm sure I can take from my other experiences and come up with a star performance. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get some sleep. The children get up very early."

  She uncurled her legs, but his body stopped her from stretching out. She didn't meet his gaze. Couldn't. She reached behind her and fluffed her pillows, reset her alarm clock, praying he'd leave.

  Finally he stood and walked out. She slid back down onto her side and pulled the covers up to her neck, a pillow to her chest. She waited for his feet on the stairs, afraid to even breathe and have tears escape.

  All of a sudden he was back.

  "We need everyone, children included, to believe we're together." He ignored her protesting noise and dropped two pillows onto the carpet, making his bed parallel to hers. "I'll stay on the floor tonight. I'm going to be up and down a lot, and one of us should sleep. By morning I'm climbing into that bed with you. They won't understand me sleeping on the floor. I don't want information like that to slip out when we have company."

  He unfolded a blanket, knelt down, then hesitated, his head visible from where hers was buried in her pillows. For a crazy moment she thought his hand reached out to her, but then realized it was her imagination. She could hardly see him and prayed she was just as invisible.

  If not, he'd see the tears she could no longer hold inside.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  «^»

  She cried last night.

  Rico slapped the pen down onto the table and sat back. The concentration he needed so badly was blown apart by the same recurring thought.

  She cried last night.

  He'd been hard on her. Too hard. He should've stayed away from her room, but he'd been frustrated by her evasive tactics. All night she'd avoided looking at him. The few times he'd caught her eyes, he'd been unable to discern the emotions in them. Then bam! Nothing.

  And that made him want to shake her. And kiss her. He'd never had trouble reading her emotions before, but now he was lucky if he read one. Especially since she'd found out the truth.

  He sighed and rubbed his hands up and down his face hard, ignoring the twinge along his temple. He dozed ten minutes at a time all night, then woke to listen to the house's sounds. When dawn slid into Anna's room, the silver light brought relief. He'd stood and watched her sleep, her small hand curled under her chin, and he fought himself. He'd almost given in to the unnecessary threat and crawled into bed with her, but he didn't trust himself. He wanted her too badly.

  He had to protect her. But right now the danger to her wasn't unknown. The danger to her was him.

  He chuckled softly. It was all too ironic.

  * * *

  "Lina, I don't want you to tell him about the lies."

  "Why would you not want the truth known?"

  Anna paced to the end of the hallway, away from the big ears in the bedroom. "I don't think it would do any good."

  Shrewd eyes measured her. How could she explain this, when in truth, it didn't make much sense to her? She was sure of only a few things. Rico had not come here for her. He still believed she slept with other men while they'd been together. He desired her. He wanted to he a part of his children's lives. If he found out the truth, would he then want to be with her? Would he then assume they'd live happily ever after? Or would it be easier to walk away again?

  "You want him to love you, don't you, hija?" The question, in the Spanish-accented compassion, made tears sting her eyes.

  "I don't know. I just don't know. The only thing I do know is I want you and my children safe. Nothing matters more."

  Lina puttered in the linen closet, rearranging folded towels. "Ignoring Rico will not make him go away. Even as a boy, he did not give up on things. The more I tried to stop him, the harder he tried." She closed the door. "I know you do not believe this, hija, but he loves you. I can see it in his eyes. I don't like keeping the truth from him, and he will not be happy with me, but I owe you." She smiled and reached out to caress Anna's cheek. "I understand your worry. I want you to believe in his love. Believe it is real and not based on lies. So, I will not tell him. Not yet."

  Anna sucked in a steadying breath. "Thank you."

  "Thanks for what?" a deep voice rumbled.

  She swung around and saw Rico standing at the top of the stairs. How much had he heard?

  "Did they teach you how to eavesdrop, too?" she snapped, her rudeness due more to the strange looks he'd been giving her all day. It unsettled her.

  He didn't question the they. "Yes."

  Nonplused, she stared at him.

  "Gage! Gage! Can we go outside yet?" Rafe asked, a welcome distraction as he ran out of his room and wrapped himself around Rico's legs.

  Anna caught his quick grimace, not knowing if it was caused by an injury to his legs or Rafe calling him by another name.

  "No, not yet. We need to give it a few more hours." Rico had told the children they couldn't play outside because he put chemicals on the lawn before they woke up. For some reason they didn't even ask why. God knows whenever she told them to do something they questioned it to death.

  Death. Not exactly an appropriate word.

  She worried her bottom lip, mentally chiding the morbid sense of humor she hadn't seen for years.

  Rico and the twins had already headed down the stairs, and Lina stared bemused down the empty hall.

  Anna remembered one of the promises she'd made to herself the night before. She turned and hugged Lina, then kissed her on the cheek.

  "I'm so happy you have your son back," Anna whispered, realizing she genuinely meant it, regardless of what it meant for her own life.

  Lina's eyes welled, but she blinked rapidly. Understanding lit her eyes. "I know you are, hija. But I thank you for saying it."

  Anna hugged her again, wondering how Lina knew her so well. "I'm going downstairs. Remember what he said. Don't look out or stand by windows longer than necessary."

  "I won't forget."

  She nodded and left Lina straightening up the guest room she'd moved into. Although Rico hadn't pulled all the shades down or shut the blinds, he'd made it clear they should be careful. Daytime would be easier, but when they put on the inside lights tonight they'd have to avoid throwing their shadows.

  The pounding on the side of her head increased, and she mentally kicked herself for not paying closer attention. She'd been calm all day, keeping the children occupied, answering the few questions Rico asked her while going through her address book. As much as she tried not to think about the danger around them, it was always there. A silent reminder that her once-peaceful home could become a battleground. The violence she'd tried so hard to leave in Miami had followed her here.

  "Mom! Can we build somethin' in Grandma's room?"

  "With Legos?"
Rebecca said, ending her brother's question.

  "Yes, but stay with her and sit on the floor to put them together."

  They agreed and ran down the hallway. After listening to them explain to Lina what they wanted to do, she went downstairs to the kitchen. There was no sign of Rico, and she grabbed the aspirin bottle out of the cabinet.

  "Are you okay?"

  The aspirin bottle went flying, white pills bouncing around the counter and onto the floor. Swallowing her heart, she gripped the counter.

  "Must you keep doing that?"

  Footsteps audible, he crossed the kitchen. "I'm sorry. It's habit."

  She glanced at him quickly, then back to the pills be was picking up. He apologized. Rico never apologized. Then again, they'd only fought once and never spoken again, but still, he wasn't the kind of man who admitted his mistakes.

  "I jump at every little sound, yet I can't hear you! What if someone gets in the house? He could skip by me and I wouldn't even notice!"

  He chuckled, the sound rumbling around in his chest without escaping. "I want you aware, but the chances of someone getting by the men outside and me are slim."

  He knelt down, and the two of them picked up the sea of pills. Naturally, she'd dropped the brand-new, super-size economy bottle. A groan slipped from her when they dumped handfuls in the trash.

  Just as they were finishing, he asked, "Getting a lot of headaches?"

  Of course he'd notice.

  "Why?"

  He gave her a look. "The kids can't take these, and Mama avoids medication."

  "How do you know?"

  The petty jab, born of frustrated anger, fear and heartache hit home. His face tightened, and he again became a stranger, making her realize how open his expression had been moments before.

  "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean it to sound—"

  "Forget it," he said, shoving himself up and moving stiffly to the table.

  Self-disgust churned her stomach and did nothing for her head. She hadn't meant to hurt him, just push him out of her space. He walks back into her life and expects he can do anything, ask anything he wants. At the same time he'd been through pure hell, the depth of which she knew he'd never tell her.