by Beth Rhodes
You can save her. Let her go.
Hawk separated from her without letting go, rolled her into his side, and stared at the ceiling.
I'm going blind.
I don't know if I'll be able to take care of you and the kids.
I won't be able to see you when you're in my arms and coming...
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat up. Fear, like a vise, closed his throat. He was a coward, and yet he couldn't say anything. If he did, his world would be forever changed. He needed more time to figure out how to make this work. A new life, a new job?
He’d seen the effects of brain injuries. They weren’t pretty. He’d been so self-pitying and burying his trouble, he hadn’t done the one thing that made him the success he’d been his entire life—plan. He needed a way to convince her that he could still take care of her, still provide for his family. She didn’t have to have lunch with another man. Resentment knotted within his chest, and he rubbed at it, shoving those feelings aside. She didn’t deserve cheap jealousy…
Hell, she deserved a nice lunch out with someone who made her laugh.
He just wished he’d been the one to give it to her.
With his vision coming back, he peeked over his shoulder and found her passed out, sleeping against the blue sheets. He rose and stretched then pressed a soft kiss to the bruising on her face. He banked the rage, boiling inside him for the stranger who would hurt her, and it occurred to him, he was doing an awful lot of holding back—the rage, the jealousy, even his affection.
He rinsed off in the shower and then stepped into his jeans, before padding barefoot to the kitchen. He rummaged around for something to eat until he found an almost empty box of NutriGrain bars.
As he peeled the bar of its wrapper, he flipped over the pamphlet on the counter, which advertised for the shuffle board tournament on Thursday. There were bus tours as well. One that ran for a three-day trip to the Mayan ruins. They could join up with the retirees and live a sedate, safe life.
He frowned, his fist clenching on the pamphlet.
In the past, he would rent a motorcycle and they'd take to the countryside alone, only a backpack and a tent. Crumpling the glossy pages, he threw them across the room, not satisfied in the least when they floated eight inches in front of him and dropped to the floor.
Resting his palms on the counter, he bowed his head. “Help,” he whispered—to no fucking one. He knew in that instant he would take that sedate life as long as she agreed to live it with him. How could he ask it of her? She wasn't even out of her thirties. Young and completely alive when it seemed like his own life was slowly coming to an end.
Could he take the things from her that made him love her? Her laughter behind him when he let loose on the open road, her legs snug against the back of his, astride his motorcycle. Long hikes through mountains, longer nights cramped in a small tent. Scuba diving, Sunday drives, movie night…
She was the fuel to his fire.
Mine, he thought.
“Hawk?”
His gaze shot to her, with her rumpled clothes and messed hair. Slim legs met short shorts and another one of her tank tops―blue, to match her eyes.
“I didn't want to wake you. I―” He cleared his throat uneasily. “I needed a drink of water.”
Pulling a bottle from the fridge, she handed it to him and stood at his side facing the island counter. His grin came sheepishly, and he held up the cereal bar. “I was also hungry.”
Her eyebrows wagged up and down. “Mmhmm. Me too.”
Hawk gave her the bottle back with a grin. They had worked up an appetite.
“You’re okay, aren’t you, Hawk?”
“Sure. What do you mean?” His heart pounded against his ribcage.
“I found your pills,” she said dryly.
He winced. “Oh.” Crap. He turned her, and they stood face-to-face. Worry vibrated through her, as he brushed at a stray hair on her forehead. “It's just the headaches.”
“Headaches.” Stacy frowned in thought. “Is this from your head wound? From the scar tissue?”
“Maybe. They don’t know. I don’t know….” Just seeing her raised a panic in his chest, and he couldn’t force himself to tell her, even when he knew he should.
He popped the last of his breakfast bar into his mouth.
“What do you know?” Sarcasm this time, but at least she didn’t seem mad… yet.
“I know that I want to go to the Mayan ruins with you.”
“The ruins.” She stated, no inflection, with narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like it. You’re being evasive. People don’t take codeine for headaches.”
“My headaches are small beans compared to what happened to you while I was gone.” The panic turned to anger and quickly to fear. He blew out a breath and kissed her mouth. “I heard you when I was passing by the café.”
“Why didn’t you stop?”
He shrugged. “Tired.” And I couldn’t see jack, anyway.
He needed the illusion of normalcy—for a while—so he kissed her quiet, deepening the caress degree by aching degree. “Come on. Let’s leave the coast behind for a while, and get away.”
She laughed, side-stepping him—following the counter to the sink. “You can’t distract me that easily. What did the police say?”
He wasn’t surprised that she knew he’d talked to the police. “They found your gun in a pawn shop about five blocks from here. Some kid brought it in. They have a description. They’d like you to come down to the station, corroborate with the store owner and talk to their sketch artist.”
Stacy blew out a breath. “Wow. That was fast.” Her hands shook a little when she brought them to her lips. “Okay. Should I go now?”
Safety first. And never leave her side. “I think we’ll go together.”
She eyed him suspiciously, too smart not to catch what he was really doing. “Fine then, the police station, and then first thing tomorrow, we’ll drive inland. Jamie will be thrilled as he’s always saying his motorcycle needs practice.”
“Actually.” Hawk picked up the pamphlet from the floor, doing his best to flatten it back to its original form, and handed it to his wife. “I thought we'd do something different—safer. We could join the tour group. Stay in a decent motel. Lunches are provided.”
“Oh for the love of—” She slapped the counter and grabbed the brochure from his hands. It took her a while to come to a conclusion―whatever that happened to be―and as he watched her frown at the paper, part of him wanted to laugh; the rest of him wanted to toss her over his shoulder and take her back to bed.
Hawk came up behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Come on. It'll be fun.”
“It'll be different.”
He chuckled as he lowered his head to the nape of her neck. “Let's call it our first venture into adulthood.”
“So, you're ready for a little adventure, huh?” She turned, tilted her head, and he took advantage of her exposed neck. Delicate, agile fingers slipped inside his waistband, and he couldn't help laugh even as he rose to her touch.
Sucking in a breath, he captured her wrist, removing her hand to kiss her palm. When she sighed, he tossed her over his shoulder and, with a solid smack on her rear, took her back to bed.
Chapter Thirteen
“How long have you been in Belize, young man?”
Hawk, squeezed between his wife and an elderly lady on old school bus—peeled, faded paint revealed the old orange version beneath the garish pink and neon blue—braced himself against another bump in the road before answering, “About three weeks, ma'am.”
The woman traveled with her sister and cat. In an hour of hell in this oversized coffin, he'd learned enough to be able to write her biography, including bits about her age, her dead husband's first girlfriend's dog's name, where she'd vacationed in 1947, and the fact she never really learned how to tie her shoes therefore they'd stayed that way—untied. Thank God for Velcro.
And Stacy lapped up every
word with smiles.
A spring, jutting from the seat, poked his back and reminded him that this was his idea. Slow down, show Stacy how bad it was going to be when he was blind. Perhaps, convince her she might be better without him tagging along.
When she jabbed him with her elbow, he focused back on Maybelline, who finished talking about her honeymoon in Niagara Falls―sixty years ago. He smiled nicely to show he was listening.
“You'll see when fifty years roll around for you two.” She winked as if they were in on a secret. “Having a younger woman in your bed keeps you young.”
At Stacy's grin, Hawk choked back a groan. “Yes, ma'am.”
Oh, yeah. Stacy was enjoying this way too much.
“That's if you can keep her,” Maybeline tacked on.
He was about to lose all his teeth by grinding them down. A jolt sent the three of them into the air. His head hit the ceiling, and he reached his arm around Stacy, whose hand gripped Maybeline’s shoulder as if she could somehow keep the old woman from leaving the seat.
“Are you okay?” Stacy asked her.
“Oh, this is nothing, love. In 1944, I drove with my sister―you remember, Sarah, don't you?”
The quiet sister peeked from behind one eyelid with a hmph. “If you'd hush up for two minutes, this young couple might actually be able to enjoy the ride.”
Maybeline straightened in the seat and adjusted her straw hat. “Sour grapes. Roger always said that about her, you know. Not that that stopped him from dying and leaving me with her for the rest of this lifetime.” She sniffed righteously and leaned toward Sarah. “Well, I have friends!”
When the bus dropped gears and slowed around a turn, Hawk heard the alleluia chorus in his head because a rest stop was finally in view. The primitive nature of the roadside area was certainly dense enough to hide a body or two, right?
At Stacy's pinch, he gave her a wide grin and shrugged. “What?” he mouthed.
She rolled her eyes and in an instant, it was all worth it―the hellish bus ride, the ridiculous old ladies, even the sheep in the back seat who'd been bleating its head off for the last fifteen minutes. Lifting her, he put his entire rear on the seat and plopped her into his lap.
Maybeline giggled when Hawk kissed his wife... And though he wouldn't mind diving into the kiss with more gusto, he backed off to wink at the chatty, older woman. Because maybe they did share a secret. Maybe her life with Roger could be compared to what Hawk shared with Stacy.
“Diez minutos, rapido,” the driver called from the doorway before he hopped off the bus. Ten minutes of freedom. Thank God.
The air outside revived his sanity. There was no other way to describe it.
Hawk walked the short distance to an overlook where a crumbling wall was the only thing standing between the tourists and a twenty-foot drop down the hillside. A sign that said keep off stood sentinel and riddled with bullet holes. Though the public rest area had seen better days, it was neat. The gift shop at the front of the building was strung with lights, blinking a welcome.
He let out a breath, taking in the gorgeous countryside, the distant peaks that separated the earth from the sky, and a memory from twenty years ago when he'd first met Stacy on these green hills.
“I'm going to use the rest room. You coming?”
Turning at the sound of her voice, he found her waiting with a question in her eyes and an out-stretched hand.
“In a minute.” Hawk watched her walk away in those modest capris, which revealed pretty pale ankles. Even now, he wanted to find a dark corner and ease her feet from those teeny-bopper shoes and kiss the soft skin from there to the back of her knees.
His plan to create distance, to worry over her quality of life with him, was being foiled by his own danged obsession with her.
As he turned toward the building, the hairs on his neck rose. Slowly, he cast his gaze over the familiar crowd of bus companions, and took in those who weren't familiar as well. A couple of mopeds, a dark sedan and a VW van―turquoise and white. Though nothing looked suspicious, he wasn't one to dismiss a gut reaction too quickly.
He used the restroom then browsed through the gift shop, waiting for her. As the sense of danger eased, he called himself all kinds of fool.
What the heck was she doing in there, anyway? He checked his watch.
“Mr. Hawkins! Mr. Hawkins!”
Maybeline called from the doorway.
An ear-splitting scream struck him. He ran, barely noting the breathless woman holding the door for him at the front of the store. She pointed toward the wall and, with one word, struck fear in his heart. “Stacy.”
His first thought was Cortez. Did his reach extend all the way to Belize? The thought of her in the hands of such a vile creature turned his stomach, and he forced the panic back.
A crowd had gathered beneath the broken sign. People stood around, pointing down, reaching over the wall. The hum of his internal alarm pressed in on his thoughts.
He shoved his way through the people, his pounding heart like a cadence of anxiety. Why had she left the building? He broke through, as Stacy pulled herself over the edge of the wall, all limbs and uncoordinated movements. She sprawled to the ground then righted herself and sat with her back against the stones.
All in one piece. Conscious.
Lightheaded with relief, he bent on one knee, touching her to check for injury. “Shit. What the hell were you thinking, anyway?”
“I was thinking, what a great day for a dive down the hillside.” Reaching up behind her, she set the heels of her hands on the ledge and lifted her butt to the edge. Her hands shook, and she didn’t disguise the blink of anger in her eyes.
“Sorry.” Hawk blew out a breath. “You scared me. Are you okay? What happened?”
“No. I— I lost my footing, that’s all.”
Gripping her shoulders, he forced eye contact. “Stacy. What happened?”
“Nothing. I'm swell. Nothing like a six-foot fall down a rocky ledge to get your blood pumping.” Her sharp gaze, those cold blue eyes looked beyond him, looked for something. And he wondered what. She didn’t want to say, at least not right now. And that was an instinct he could understand.
“Do you want me to kiss it?”
“Kiss what?” She scowled.
“Whatever hurts.”
Her look turned wary as she scanned the few remaining tourists. She smiled when her eyes found the sisters. “I'm okay, Maybeline. Lost my balance, I guess. I'll have to be more careful.”
Hawk couldn't see the distraught May's response, but he knew one thing like he knew his own mind: Stacy was lying.
***
She'd been pushed.
Every time she thought about it, anger swept through her.
From the moment she’d stepped off the bus, she’d had that feeling of being watched, the feeling of her world being slightly skewed. The same one that had plagued her off and on the entire vacation. Of course, she had reason to be plagued. A shiver ran down her spine.
The harsh whisper of ‘excuse me’ before she’d plummeted down the rocky terrain.
She hadn't wanted to alarm the sweet old ladies and had kept her mouth shut. Eventually, she was going to have to tell Hawk her suspicions. It was far more believable that he might also be a target. Because unless the last PTA president was hunting down last year’s parent list, there really was just no way someone was out to get her.
Hawk hadn’t pushed the topic. He would, she had no doubt. For now, they both pretended everything was fine. They’d dropped their stuff at the motel and made their way to the tour at the Mayan ruins.
“You're distracted,” Hawk whispered into her ear as the tour guide ahead of them droned on.
Usually she would have paid attention because she loved this place, loved the history and lore. Plastering a smile to her face, she leaned toward him. “You're holding onto me by my shorts.”
“I don't want you to lose your balance.”
She huffed. “I'm not goin
g to lose my―” Cutting herself off, she knew that he knew that she'd lied. The heat of embarrassment rose on her neck. “I'm not going to lose my balance.”
“Well, we can't be too careful.”
With a roll of her eyes, she glared at him. “We'll talk later.”
He loosened his grip on her shorts.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped free and continued down the narrow path into one of the ancient tombs.
It was going to be a long afternoon, and she resolved to meet Hawk’s easy-going teasing with her own. She would have a good time. This was what she wanted.
Vacation.
Later that day as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, they sat for dinner at a restaurant on the street. Their table faced the town square where local vendors were closing down their carts for the day.
Though she was thoroughly enjoying the trip inland, meeting Maybeline and Sarah, she missed the open road. Being with Hawk, the quiet time for talking, camping, making love and... “I think I miss the kids.”
Hawk took a bite of shrimp from his ceviche and watched her. Boy, his eyes could be striking and all knowing. “Um, no. Not that much. You’re mine for as long as I can get you, and I don’t feel like sharing.”
Her sip of wine caught in her throat. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean we should reunite the family yet,” she laughed. “Jesus, can you imagine? With all the trouble we’re having anyway? It’s best they stay where they are. Besides, I’m not sharing either.”
“Damn straight.”
“We do need to talk about what’s happening. And I would really like you to hear me out about my part in our business.”
“I’m glad you brought that up, actually.”
“You are?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “You used to teach.”
“Yes,” she began, nerves hitting her stomach. “So…”
“I wonder if you would ever want to go back to doing something like that.”
“What? No!” Her frown started between her eyes and sent a shaft of pain through her head. “Freak, Nathan. Come on. You know I’ve been training. Not to mention that I run that office half the time.”
“I want you to be safe, Stacy.”