by Gayle Wilson
As empty as my life has been…
It was a confession he might have made. If he had the courage to be as honest.
“So…” she went on, her fingers twisting the strap of the leather purse she carried, “I came to thank you for giving me back my life. Such as it is.”
“Grace—”
“And to tell you that I went to see Mike Mitchell’s widow,” she went on, speaking over his attempt to stop her. “I no longer had his ring, of course. Abdul Rahim’s women took it. Still…I think she was glad I came. I was able to tell her about—” Her voice broke before she strengthened it to go on. “I think she was glad Mike wasn’t alone at the end. I know he was. He was among friends, and he…knew that. Even in the short time I was with him, he taught me so much.”
“I’m sorry they took the ring.”
“It didn’t matter. She has far more appropriate things to remember him by than a trinket like that.”
He allowed the silence to build, realizing there was nothing he could say to that. “I hope you know I would never have willingly involved you with what was between Abdul Rahim and me.”
“I know. Did you ever figure out how he learned you were back?”
“A disturbance in the Force?” he suggested, smiling at her again in an attempt to lighten the mood.
He found he wasn’t ready to discuss Mitchell’s death. Or Abdul Rahim’s, either, for that matter. Not yet.
Grace shook her head, a small crease forming between her brows. She had probably been occupied in reading something deep and profound during the years he’d been imagining himself as Hans Solo.
“I don’t understand.”
“An old joke. The only logical explanation I can come up with is that Ahmad betrayed me. Maybe because they knew I’d trusted him in the past, they set it up so that if I ever contacted him again, he’d let them know. Maybe they blackmailed him. Threatened his family. Or Reynolds may somehow have gotten the information to Abdul Rahim. Maybe he was busy verifying my identity during the days he held us. All it would have taken for anyone who knew my history was a description.”
Unconsciously he raised his hand to the patch that covered the missing eye. When he realized what he’d done, he forced it down again.
“I’ll probably never know for sure how the bastard knew I was there. Maybe he was as haunted by me as I was by him.”
“Why would he be?”
“Because I was the one who got out alive. That isn’t supposed to happen. Not in his world.”
“When you escaped the first time,” she clarified.
“I knew if I didn’t, I was going to die a very prolonged and unpleasant death in that hellhole. Like you, I had discovered I didn’t really want to.”
She had been part of that discovery, although he wouldn’t tell her that. He had believed at the time that if he could physically escape, he could leave behind what had been done to him. And asking Grace for another chance had been part of that hope. Only, nothing had worked out as he’d intended, least of all the ability to forget what had happened.
“Was it worth it?”
“Killing Abdul Rahim?”
She nodded.
“Let’s just say that it was something I needed to do. Something I had needed to take care of for a long time.”
“Griff said you could have gone back at any time.”
“Maybe I needed an excuse.”
Her expression changed. Before he could read whatever was now in her eyes, she looked down at her hands, still twisting the strap of her bag.
He wondered if he had again said too much. It seemed he was no longer able to mask his feelings as he once had. Not from Grace.
“And I provided that? ‘An excuse.’”
“I would have come to find you, Gracie, even if Abdul Rahim hadn’t been there. He was simply…a piece of unfinished business.”
“And now that your business is finished…what about the rest?”
“The rest,” he repeated cautiously.
“Mike Mitchell told me it’s never too late. I hope he’s right, because I want whatever you have left to give, Landon. I don’t know whether I was wrong seven years ago about wanting it all. Or whether I’m smarter—or maybe just lonelier—now than I was then. But if there is any way we could go back…”
She had wanted a commitment. One he hadn’t been able to make. Now she seemed to be telling him that she was asking for nothing.
Nothing but whatever he had left to give. The problem was he no longer knew what that was. All he knew…
“I love you, Grace. I always have.”
“I know. I think I knew that then, but…I thought I had to have it all. Wedding and mortgage and babies. Those were all tied up in what I had envisioned as my life. All part of my grand plan. My mother used to say that to me.”
“Say what?”
“That I had to have a plan. And I believed her. I’ve always had a plan. For school. For the Agency. Even for you.”
He waited, knowing that she needed to tell him this, just as he had needed to tell her about Abdul Rahim. There would be time when she was through to answer the question she’d asked.
“I gave my life to the CIA,” she continued, speaking more quickly now. “I worked like a dog, not only because I wanted to prove I was as good as the rest of them, but because I thought I was doing something important. Something good. Something that was necessary for the continued survival of this country.”
And in exchange, they had kicked her in the teeth. Because she’d had integrity. Because she believed in the process.
“I’ve handed in my resignation. They’ll think it’s because of what happened in Afghanistan. In a way—a way they’ll never understand—they’ll be right. But…it has far more to do with Mike Mitchell and with you than it does with being taken prisoner. Or being threatened with death. I truly wasn’t afraid to die, Landon. But…I was very much afraid to die alone. I still am.”
“Grace—”
“So I’ve come to see if there’s any way we can fix what went wrong between us. And even if you tell me there isn’t, I won’t ever regret asking you to try. That’s something else I learned from Mike. Something I don’t ever intend to forget.”
When she finished, he let the silence stretch between them, trying to think how to express what he wanted to tell her so there could be no misunderstandings. He had told her so much. More than he’d ever told anyone, but he knew now that it wasn’t enough.
“If you’re suggesting that we try to go back to who and what we were seven years ago…” he began and again saw her eyes change. The clear blue darkened, glazing with tears that she quickly controlled. “Then…I don’t think that’s possible.”
She suddenly looked as if she’d taken a body blow, so he knew he was screwing this up…something that should be so simple.
“We aren’t the same people we were back then,” he hurried on, trying to get to the point before he hurt her any more. God knows, he’d hurt her enough. “I’m not sure we ever can be again.”
“Landon—”
“In my case, Abdul Rahim destroyed the man I thought I was. And despite what I’d hoped, killing him didn’t bring that man back to life. And you…you were going to show the boys you could play in their park and not get hurt. Well, they hurt you, Gracie. Maybe more than anyone else I understand how much, because I also know how deeply you cared about their opinions.”
Her lips parted, but she closed them again over the protest she had been about to make. She nodded instead, the motion quick and decisive.
“So…we’ll never be those people again, but whoever we are—and I’m not sure either of us knows much about that right now—we could try to find out together.”
“All right,” she said, the slightly tremulous breath she took belying the composure of her agreement.
“But if you’re only doing this because you don’t want to die alone or because you’re afraid of…whatever it is you’re afraid of—”
“I’m doing this because I love you, Landon James. I always have. I just thought that in order to be a success at that, I had to end up with it all. The brass ring. I know I don’t need that now, but…I do need you. I always will.”
“I don’t think much of your bargain, Gracie. You could do much better, you know.”
Her smile was almost tentative, but it was definitely a smile. “I told Mike you were a tough act to follow. I don’t think, until I put that into words, I realized how true it was. You’d be surprised at how poorly I did in attempting to replace you.”
“I don’t think I want to hear about that.”
“No. Neither do I. I used to think about it, though. Wondering who you were with. Wondering…a lot of things I shouldn’t have.”
“Believe me, I wasn’t any more successful at moving on. I knew how badly I’d screwed up, but I didn’t know what to do about it. And then I went back to Afghanistan—”
“They say that sometimes when you glue the pieces of something that got broken back together, it’s stronger than it was before. Do you suppose there could be any truth to that?”
He didn’t. At least not with people. He had spent more than five years trying to put himself back together. And despite his success bringing Abdul Rahim to justice, he wasn’t any stronger than he’d been before he’d gone back to Afghanistan.
“Maybe that’s the wrong analogy.”
“You have a better one?” she said, smiling at him.
“When they want to build the most powerful bows, they layer thin strips of wood, one on top of another. Each strip by itself could easily be broken, but combined… Combined they are virtually indestructible. Strong and flexible. Able to bend when they have to without breaking.”
The analogy had given him some comfort through the years. The idea that strength wasn’t totally about not bending.
Grace laughed. “Nice. And so obviously Freudian, as well.”
“The imagery? Believe me, Gracie, there was nothing even remotely subconscious about that.”
There hadn’t been. He’d been thinking about making love to her almost from the moment Dalton had passed on Griff’s offer. He still was.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Gracie? My darling Gracie. Whatever I call you, that’s what you’ll always be to me. I think you might as well just get used to it.”
Epilogue
Grace realized at sometime during the very long night they had spent together that what she’d told Mike Mitchell had been true. Landon James was still a very tough act to follow.
Now that light from the rising sun was beginning to seep into the bedroom of Landon’s Manhattan apartment, she could indulge in the forbidden pleasure of watching him while he slept. There were too many new scars on the hard, brown body. Marks whose origins she didn’t even want to think about.
Only through the strongest act of will was she able to prevent her natural inclination to touch them with her lips. Or to trace gently across the roughened surfaces with the tips of her fingers.
She understood that that, too, would be forbidden. Just as the day when she’d reached toward the patch that hid his damaged eye.
Besides, touching those scars might awaken the man who had made love to her throughout the night. And that would destroy her opportunity to lie here, propped on her elbow so that her torso was slightly above his, enjoying the sight of his naked body gilded by the growing light of dawn.
She glanced up at his face, her gaze drawn by a subtle change in his breathing or by some movement she must have been aware of subliminally. She watched his eye open and then widen as it focused on her face.
“I thought I was dreaming,” he said, his lips finally relaxing into a smile.
“I know.”
The fact that they were again together, making love as if all those years had not intervened, had at times caught her by surprise. This morning she’d had the advantage of awakening before him. She had already had a chance to deal with the reality of their reunion. A wonder that had almost been lost in the intensity of their sexual response to one another.
Landon lifted one long, dark finger to run it along the fullness of her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, enclosing the tip of it.
“So beautiful,” he said softly. “I’d honestly forgotten how beautiful you are.”
She laughed, ducking her head a little. After a moment she lifted it again to meet his gaze. “You always did that.”
“Did what?”
“Embarrassed me.”
“How does telling you that you’re beautiful embarrass you?” With his thumb he followed the upward slant of her cheekbone, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear.
“I suppose…because I’ve always had a certain image of myself. One that didn’t include that kind of descriptive.”
“It should.”
She shook her head. “Analytical. Stubborn. Determined. Cold, even. But not beautiful.”
“You listened to the wrong people growing up.”
“Not the wrong people. And not just growing up. Just…everyone except you. You’re the only person who ever told me that.”
“I was the only one crazy enough to think he could melt the ice maiden.”
And there was no denying that he had. Years ago and again last night.
Landon had quickly destroyed whatever vestiges of modesty or anxiety she might have had about making love after all this time. When he pulled her into his arms, the complete and utter rightness of being there again had overwhelmed her. Any inhibitions had disappeared immediately.
This was where she belonged. She had known it from the first time he’d touched her. She knew it all over again.
And this time she would make no demands. No requirements except that he make a place for her here as long as he could. And as for what came next—
Carpe diem, she told herself. Seize the day.
Which is what she hadn’t done before. She’d been too busy wanting the promise of a future. A commitment he obviously had been unable to give.
Now all she wanted was this. Landon. Being together in the here and now.
“And then I discovered that we’d all been wrong,” he continued, his fingers tracing along her collarbone. “There was no ice after all. There was only…”
“Only what?” she teased when the sentence trailed.
“You. This. Offered so freely it took my breath. And then suddenly you backed away. As if there was something wrong with what we had.”
“There wasn’t. I just…” She stopped, unwilling to allow that old refrain to taint the feelings they’d rediscovered.
“You wanted more,” Landon finished for her.
If she were honest with herself, she still did. But that was a lesson she had finally learned. What she wanted now, she told herself fiercely, was whatever he could give. Judging by last night, that was quite a lot.
Enough?
It would be. She would make sure it would be.
She bent, putting her lips over his. For a moment he allowed their caress, meeting the light, almost tentative invasion of her tongue.
And then, being Landon, he took control. As he always had.
He rolled, carrying her with him so that she was lying on her back, his body over hers. He immediately positioned his knee between hers, opening her legs in preparation for his entry.
There were no preliminaries as there had been last night. No slow, deliberately tantalizing preparation of her body.
Over and over again he had taken her to the edge of fulfillment before he allowed the intensity he’d so carefully created to fade. Then he had begun anew, his patience infinite, as he brought her once more to the verge of orgasm.
She had lost count of the number of times he’d done that. All she knew was that eventually he had mounted an irresistible assault against her senses until she had climaxed over and over again, her body trembling with an ecstasy only he had ever been able to give her.
Now, rather than the studied courtsh
ip of last night, he drove into her with a strength that was almost frightening. It would have been frightening if this had been anyone other than Landon.
Last night had been the velvet glove. This… This was the fist of steel it had enclosed.
She gasped as his hips rocked into hers, each downward thrust more powerful than the last. He had never made love to her like this. He had always taken care to bring her to climax before he satisfied his own desires.
This time, however, the courtship of her body was not only suspended, it was replaced with a demand. A challenge to become something she had never before been. An equal partner in their lovemaking.
Unexpectedly, the sensations he had so patiently coaxed from her body last night began to build again. Heat centered at the point where their bodies joined, radiating outward into nerves and muscles. It coursed like molten gold through her bloodstream, melting her bones until she was ablaze with it. And with him.
When the first shuddering convulsion racked his frame, her body arched, unconsciously meeting the increased frenzy of his movements with her own. As she felt the hot jetting of his seed, her own response was instantaneous.
She fell over the dark edge that had loomed before her so often last night. And this time she hadn’t even known it was there until it was too late.
Consciousness spiraled away into that void composed only of sensation. For a long time she was aware of nothing but her own shimmering pleasure. Then—gradually—her other senses began to function.
First sound. The harshness of his breathing. And her own.
Then touch. The hair-roughened texture of his chest moving over her breasts as his frenzy began to ease.
And finally, taste and smell. The salt-sweet essence of his skin as she pressed parted lips against his shoulder. The taste of it, familiar still, despite the long years. Beloved.
“Sorry.” His breath stirred over the damp hair that clung to the side of her neck.
“For what? Not for this.”
“You always seemed… I don’t know. Fragile. Too cerebral. Now…” He shook his head, its movement against hers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”