Trying not to wake him, Sam shifted Arman’s prone figure as she arranged herself underneath him, wrapping her body around his back in a lover’s pose. Arman mumbled in his sleep, briefly opening his eyes as she uttered soothing, distracting sounds while she wedged her gun between the mattress and the wall behind her. If they came in, they’d have to go through Arman to get to her. Hopefully that would buy her enough time should it come to that. If Arman awoke and they never came in, she’d have him pinned so he could do nothing. Not ideal but it’d have to do.
The hair rose on her arms as she settled back, listening to the pounding of her own heart. Then a knock sounded at the door, and Sam released the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in.
Another knock.
Sam waited, seemingly for interminable moments, before calling out softly, “Biyâ tu.”25
The handle turned.
*
December 11th—Morning
The Whitney, Chicago
J A C K
He couldn’t believe it.
Even though she’d done it before. Even though she’d warned him time and again that she would do this—he still couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe that, in the light of day, his vow to stand beside her had ultimately changed nothing.
He’d lain awake for hours after they’d made love, vigilant, ready to mount another offensive as soon as she awoke, thinking through all the alternatives, planning courses of action that would keep her from going to Afghanistan. He’d find another way. He had to. He spent those silent hours planning various scenarios, trying to work out options that didn’t involve a confrontation with Nazar and ultimately risking her life.
But sometime before dawn, Jack succumbed to sleep, holding her close in his arms, breathing in Samantha’s jasmine-and-orange-blossom scent, his lips against her hair. By the time he’d returned to consciousness, Samantha was long gone, her place as silent and still as a mausoleum.
Jack stalked through the penthouse, his anger rising with each opened door, each empty room, knowing that despite his every attempt, she wasn’t here anymore. Furious, he looked for a note, a sign, some form of reciprocity, some excuse for why she’d leave him again when he’d laid himself bare at her feet, given her everything he’d had to give—his heart, his trust, his resources… his future.
He’d been recklessly in love, lost to this woman’s siren call, aware that her most seductive qualities made her elusive and unattainable, that the rocks surrounding her could very well shatter him. But Jack’s yearning for her was too strong; too strong for him to accept the inevitability of this moment. He stood there, alone, painfully aware that she’d left him hanging again. She made love to him to placate and distract him, conferring her own twisted version of a send-off.
What a goddamn fool I am.
Jack had chosen the one woman he couldn’t keep. The one person who’d break him in half and not look back.
His eyes fell on her desk as he entered her pristine study. Conceding that she’d vanished on him again, this time probably for good, he opened the drawers of her desk until he found a small stash of the elegant, Japanese parchment paper she’d used to make her cranes. He pulled out a blood-red sheet, folding quickly, heart pounding in his ears as he replayed her saying it again and again…
Say goodbye, Jack.
Say it.
He held up the red bird.
If she isn’t attached to you by now, she never will be.
Anger and bitterness seeped through him, eviscerating his insides; acrimony roiling in his gut, even as his love for her still beat hot and fierce in his chest.
She will never stay with you. You can’t keep her.
…You never could.
Jack stood slowly, leaving the crane behind, another poignant wish for her alter—another kill.
Chapter 16
Dec 11th—Noon
An Airfield near the Wyatt Ranch, Texas
S A M A N T H A
Samantha slid her sunglasses on as she stepped off the jet, the hot blue heat of the Texas sky pressing against her, a welcome change from the frigid climes sweeping through Chicago.
Carey pushed off of the ranch truck and sauntered toward her, followed by Rush and Talon, each dressed in denim and flannel, their cowboy hats shading their faces from the sun.
“You two look like extras off the set of Urban Cowboy,” she drawled, smirking at Rush and Talon as Carey pulled her into a strong hug.
“John Travolta wished he looked this good,” Talon replied with a smirk, taking his turn to give her a quick hug.
“It feels good to be back in the South, even if it is Texas,” Rush smiled, squeezing her shoulder.
“You been driving the boys crazy?” she asked Carey as she rounded the SUV and got into the passenger seat.
“You kiddin’ me?” Carey grinned. “These boys love ranching. Been going out with me and dad every morning,” he told her as he started up the truck.
“The doc cleared you to ride?” Sam asked, glancing back at Rush who shook his head, rolling his eyes.
“Doc says I’m fit as a fiddle,” Carey declared with a smug grin as he tipped back his cowboy hat.
“Your parents are driving you bat shit crazy, aren’t they?” she asked, slanting him a look. “You’re just trying to get away from them.”
“And Willa,” Talon added helpfully from the back, flashing a grin.
“No wonder you’re on a horse well before you oughtta be,” Sam smiled. “Figures you’d try to outrun them.”
“How’d news of my injury go down with the board?” Carey asked instead as he headed for the ranch.
“Pretty sure they stopped listening after I told them the US Military was our new client,” she replied wryly.
“Glad to know I’m missed,” Carey smirked.
“What do you want more attention for?” she teased. “Sounds like you got all the love you can handle right now.”
“You have no idea,” he muttered, pulling on to the long road up to Wyatt Ranch, the truck’s struts rattling over the cattle guards.
As they drew closer to the main house, Sam saw Willa come out, her hand covering her eyes. As soon as Sam waved, Willa was off the wide porch and outside the passenger door of the truck before Sam had barely gotten out.
“Lucy,” Willa called out in her best Ricky Ricardo voice. “You got some ’splaining to do!” she said, grabbing Sam up in a hard hug.
“Willa—” Sam grasped, squirming under her Amazonian friend’s clasp. “Can’t breathe—”
Her friend squeezed her hard once more before letting her go, her blue eyes suspiciously bright with a combination of anger and unshed tears.
“You both could have died in Rio!” she shouted suddenly, slapping Sam hard on the arm. “What the fuck, Sam?”
“Ouch!” she winced, rubbing her arm. “Quit smacking me!”
“I oughtta smack you upside your head!” Willa shouted back as Carey wrapped his arms around her, partly in affection, though Sam suspected he was also trying to prevent her from hitting Sam again. “What would I do if something bad happened to you, Sam?” Willa cried out. “Did you think about that? Huh?”
“Willa, I’m fine,” Sam assured her, reaching out to clasp her friend’s hands. “Give us a minute, alright?” she asked, nodding to Carey.
He stepped back reluctantly, but complied with Sam’s request before leading the guys into the house as Aunt Hannah held the porch door open. Sam raised a finger, indicating she needed a moment. Her aunt simply nodded as Sam pulled Willa into a hug.
“You’re my best friend, you asshole,” Willa sniffed. “First I hear Carey was shot and then you? You sure know how to give a girl a heart attack!”
“But you like living dangerously,” Sam teased. “You say all the time you live vicariously through my 007-kinda life.”
“Hooker, you fucked up my mascara,” Willa complained, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “And I only like the idea of you
living dangerously theoretically, when I know you’re up in your ivory-tower penthouse with that hot-ass Roman brother. Not when you’re getting shot twice in the chest by some lunatic in Rio.”
“That ivory penthouse is probably rife with more landmines than any place,” Sam muttered. “Especially after last night.”
“What does that mean?” Willa asked, shooting her an alert look.
“Nothing,” Sam replied, leading Willa over to the porch swing. She patted the seat beside her. “If you’re going to chew my ear off, you might as well get comfortable.”
Willa took the opportunity to wind up her finger and her neck. “First of all, bitch, you never called me to tell me what the hell happened to you. I had to find out from Carey after I got here! What’s up with that?”
“We’ve had a few irons in the fire,” Sam replied ruefully. “I had to make sure he was safe first, and then I was in DC getting our ducks in a row.” She sighed. “You know how it is, Willa.”
“Actually I don’t, you shitty-ass friend,” Willa sassed, poking her in the arm. “I don’t live in your world. If something terrible happened to me—you bet your ass I’d be calling you on speed dial.”
Sam leaned back as she thought about her remark, pushing the porch swing gently with the toe of her boot. “You’re right,” she conceded. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. What I did was shitty, and I’m sorry.” Sam reached out, holding Willa’s hand in hers, probably at her own peril, since Willa’s eyes still sparked with righteous indignation.
“You know what your problem is?” Willa asked crisply.
“Lay it on me.”
Willa pushed her braids over her shoulder. “You’ve gotten so used to living on your own little island, you assume you’re alone, and you have yet to recognize you’ve got an entire ecosystem built around you.”
“Are you calling me irresponsible?” Sam asked with raised brows.
“No, you stupid bitch,” Willa replied with a huff. “I’m calling you oblivious.”
“I think that’s worse,” Sam drawled.
“It probably is, Sam, but it’s the honest-to-God truth,” Willa told her, pinning her with her vivid blue eyes. “You take care of everyone, and then when you need to be taken care of, you disappear.” Willa shook her head in consternation. “It makes everyone you leave behind feel incompetent and meaningless. And Sam, let me tell you there’s nothing worse than loving someone who won’t let you love them back when they so badly need it.”
Sam’s heart tightened as she listened to Willa, seeing her friend’s pained expression. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Willa. I thought I was protecting you.”
“I know that, jerk,” Willa replied with a sidelong glance. “That’s why I’m calling you oblivious.”
“You sound like Jack.”
Willa crossed her arms, lifting a knowing brow. “Carey told me you broke it off with him.”
“And then I fell into bed with him last night,” Sam admitted. “So let’s say the first attempt at ending it was a wash.”
Willa smacked her arm. “Spill, you naughty bitch!”
“Okay, stop calling me a bitch and an asshole, even if I unintentionally acted like both. Those aren’t exactly terms of endearment.”
“I calls it as I sees it,” Willa replied haughtily. “Now tell me, tell me, tell me.”
Sam closed her eyes, dropping her head back against the swing as she thought about her last night with Jack.
“I’m in love with that man,” she confessed, regret lacing her words. “But I don’t see how it’ll work, Willa. He wants things I don’t think I can give. Things I don’t think I’ve even got anymore.”
“What does that mean?” Willa asked. “What kind of things?”
Sam took a breath, glancing away. “Trust, faith, emotional honesty—”
“So, the easy stuff,” Willa smirked. “God, I love that man. He’s going to be so good for you.”
“I finished it, Willa,” Sam admitted quietly, standing to step toward the railing, overlooking the pastures of her family’s land.
“Wait, what?” Willa asked, bewildered. “Why?”
“Because I love Jack enough to let him find those things with someone who’s got them to give.”
“See? This is exactly the shit I’m talking about, Sam!” Willa sighed in frustration, flinging her arms out as she shook her head in consternation. “You cut everyone off at the knees. It’s a severe character flaw, Sam. Seriously shitty.”
Sam leaned back against the porch railing, crossing her arms. “What’s the alternative, Willa? Letting Jack think I’ll come back to him when there’s a very good chance I won’t make it back this time? I’m flying into the homeland of a man who has murdered several people on my team and in some of the most heinous ways imaginable, Willa,” she told her in a hard voice. “You think I should lie to Jack and tell him I’ll be back in time for dinner when I know damn well I might never lay eyes on him again? When my chances of coming out on top of this are probably less than fifty-fifty?”
“Sammy—” Willa began, her eyes softening.
“Don’t you feel sorry for me, Willa Carter,” Sam warned her. “I’m not looking for any sympathy. I don’t deserve it anyhow. I’ve got some unfinished business, and I mean to take care of it. Dragging you and anyone else who cares about me along for the ride isn’t going to make it any easier for anyone. So if that makes me a jerk and an asshole, then so be it.”
“You’re not a jerk or an asshole, Sammy,” her Aunt Hannah interrupted gently, opening the door to the porch as she stepped out with a tray of iced teas. “I’m sorry I overheard, but I’m an old woman now and I feel like your mama, so excuse my interfering.”
“Aunt Hannah, you’re not interfering,” Sam assured her, stepping forward to kiss her aunt’s cheek as she took the tray from her. “I was going to come in and find you anyway.” She glanced down at the tray. “You made your sun tea?”
“Hot day like this, figured you two could use some refreshment,” Aunt Hannah replied, her lips twitching. “I like you, Willa,” she said as she sat beside her on the swing. “You’re a good influence on my son and my daughter. But you got a bad mouth, missy.”
“Excuse my mouth, ma’am,” Willa responded readily. “But your boy and girl make me so spitting angry sometimes, it’s hard to hold my tongue.”
Aunt Hannah patted Willa’s arm gently as she directed her gaze squarely on Samantha. “You always had a bad habit of suffering by yourself, Sammy,” her Aunt told her as she rested against the swing. “You’d retreat and bear it silently—even as a little girl. First when your mother died, then when your dad disappeared and left you alone with Ryland. It isn’t healthy, Sammy. Wasn’t then, and it’s definitely not now.”
“Thank you!” Willa responded. “Exactly what I’ve been saying!”
“Honey, I’ve loved you all your life,” her aunt continued, ignoring Willa’s outburst. “Not one single day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you and loved you, whether you were here or not. But the way you think you’re protecting others? You’re really trying to protect yourself, Sammy girl. And you’ve made those walls so high, they’re nearly insurmountable.”
Sam felt the sudden sting of tears come on, but she swallowed thickly, resisting the pull, refusing to give in to the vulnerability.
“I don’t want that for you, Sammy,” Aunt Hannah continued. “I don’t want you hiding behind all the reasons you think you can’t or shouldn’t receive what so many people around you want to give.”
Sam swiped quickly at her eyes, alarmed at how accurate her aunt’s assessment felt, ashamed again for all the years she spent avoiding her family when they’d only wanted to be close to her.
“I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I don’t want that—” she started, getting choked up.
“I know you don’t, baby,” Aunt Hannah interrupted quietly. “But you’re hurting yourself, Sammy. Anyone who loves you can see that, clear as day.”
> “I can’t risk it.” Sam shook her head. “I can’t risk losing anyone else.”
“It’s impossible to love without risk, Sammy,” her aunt told her kindly. “But the beautiful part is that it’s given, not taken. If someone wants to give you that gift, you’ve got to decide whether or not you can reciprocate. Not whether you should protect yourself or them. That’s not your call, baby girl.”
“Your aunt’s the smartest women I ever met,” Willa marveled.
“I think I’m beginning to grasp the extent of how badly I have fucked up,” Sam admitted ruefully. “Aunt Hannah, how can you forgive me for not coming home all those years?”
“Because I knew if I kept the porch light on, you’d eventually find your way back home,” her aunt replied. She slanted an amused glance at Willa. “Your friend here is just a touch more impatient than I am.”
“No shit,” Willa laughed. “Your aunt’s only just met me, and she’s already got my number.”
Sam strode forward, dropping in front of her aunt to wrap her arms around her waist, letting her head fall in her lap like she had when she was little. “I love you more than I can even put into words, Aunt Hannah. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do,” her aunt smiled, running her hand gently over her hair. “And the best way to repay that is by letting me love you back, Sammy.”
She looked up at her aunt, feeling a tear slip from her eye. Aunt Hannah, her smile tender, gently rubbed the stray tear off Sam’s cheek.
“You go do what you need to do, Samantha Wyatt. I’m not here to stop you. I will always want you back, and I will always love you—no matter what you do; no matter where you are—you can always come home.” She tilted Sam’s chin up, truth shining from her cornflower blue eyes. “You understand?”
“I understand,” Sam answered softly. She clasped her aunt and Willa’s hands in hers, looking at them both. “I think I finally understand.”
*
Dec 11th—Evening
Complicated Creatures: Part Two Page 18