by Amy Gamet
Hawk met his stare. “I’m done working for HERO Force.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. Nothing else matters.”
“Be careful. Don’t become so focused on her safety that you let go of who you are.”
Hawk narrowed his eyes. “Look who’s talking.”
Mac looked at his hands, dark black skin contrasting with the gold of his wedding band. “It’s a balance. Not one I ever found. Now I’m nothing but a drunk old man waiting on a woman who doesn’t want me. I know every moment of every day how I got this way, believe me.”
Hawk was quiet, and Mac imagined the other man was trying to figure out the best way to phrase pity. In that moment he longed so intensely to be back home, a drink in his hand and Trevor Hawkins several thousand miles away, back where he belonged. He’d stared into this particular mirror long enough.
“Work with me,” said Hawk.
Mac blew out air and shook his head. “Not this shit again.”
“Help me get it off the ground. Take care of everyday operations while I pay more attention to Olivia.”
“Not a good idea.” Even as he said the words, the tiniest spark lit within him. He could be commanding men again. Running covert ops. Making a difference, and he cursed Trevor for lighting that particular flame, because it was out of reach. As impossible as holding a star in his hand.
“Why the hell not?” demanded Hawk.
Mac looked him in the eye an let his mouth drop open. Didn’t he see it? Couldn’t he tell? He would have to spell it out. “Because I’m broken, man.”
Hawk shook his head. “I don’t give a shit about your leg.”
“Not my leg, Hawk.” He pounded on his chest. “In here.”
The moment stretched out between them like the quiet after a accident. Hawk stood. “So do something good with your life. Fight the bad guys. Kick some ass. Don’t just sit there and wait for something that might never happen.”
“For my wife and kids to come back?” He frowned. He knew Hawk was right, but it didn’t make one damn bit of difference. “They’re the only reason worth living.” He stood, a look passing between them before he walked away. He’d made his choice long before this moment.
Trevor jogged to him. “You’d have HERO Force’s resources available to you.”
Mac kept walking, eyes forward.
“You could find them, Mac.”
Mac stopped walking. All this time he’d been waiting on Ellie, unable to go after her or know where she was. But he knew the kind of resources Hawk was talking about. Computer databases. Connections with government agencies.
I could find her.
Wherever she was in the world. It might take some time, some doing, but Hawk was right. With HERO Force’s resources he could find his wife and kids. The scale that had been so heavily weighted toward one side began to shift, a difference so slight but fundamental. He could see her face in his mind’s eye. Wondering how she’d changed.
“You’d have to give up the booze,” said Hawk. “I need you sober.”
Of course that was necessary, but well worth it if he could set his eyes on his wife one more time. He imagined he could touch her face from her temple to her jaw, the smooth skin warm beneath his fingers.
He turned, his eyes meeting Hawk’s. It wasn’t a fair bargain. His friend needed his help, yes. But he was reaching down to lift Mac up again, and he knew it. “Why me?”
“I need someone I can trust.”
He laughed without humor. “I’m a one-legged drunk who dropped out of the game a long time ago. That’s one short list of friends you’ve got there.”
“No, Mac.” He grinned. “Just a short list of heroes.”
It had been a long damn time since Mac O’Brady considered himself to be a hero. Was it possible? Could he pull himself together and go back to the States, do what Hawk was asking? He was tempted, the idea looming large in his mind. “My family is my number one priority. If I find them, I can’t guarantee how long I’ll stick around.”
“We can deal with that when the time comes.”
He’d be a commander again. Have elite soldiers under his foot, important missions dependent on his actions. The faces of the men under his command through the years flashed through his mind. Those who’d done well and gotten out, like Hawk. Those who had died. Those who were as good as dead.
The broken ones, like him.
There were far too many of them—at least a dozen over the years from his own team. Guys who’d seen too much, done too much. Left too much behind. Some of them were physically changed like he was, but most were visibly the same, the current beneath their calm exterior frightening even themselves. He thought of the rush of adrenaline he’d gotten when helping Olivia.
The healing power of work. He was changed for saving her. Change like that could help other men, too. “I pick my own men.”
“Fine.”
“They won’t be the squeaky-clean kind you’re used to, Hawk. The men I want working with me have problems.”
Hawk crossed his arms. “What kind of guys are we talking about?”
“Strong, capable soldiers. But we’ll be a motley crew. It will be a second chance for the guys who need help.”
“SEALs?”
“Yeah. Broken, busted-up, fucked-up SEALs.”
“Sir?” called the doctor behind the men. “Miss Barrons will see you now.”
“I have to run it by Jax, the owner of HERO Force.”
He was going to turn him down, the drapes pulled tight against the first rays of sunshine to come his way in years. “Look, don’t do me any favors,” said Mac, suddenly sorry he’d suggested it. “I’m sure you want guys with their fucking heads screwed on straight. Not men like me.”
“Wait. Jesus, Mac.” Hawk ran his hand through his hair. “You don’t make this easy, do you?”
Mac put his hands on his hips and waited for the euphemisms to come pouring out of Hawk’s mouth, the half-baked reasons Hawk didn’t want a force of losers working for him.
“Okay,” said Hawk.
“Okay what?”
He nodded. “I’ll run it by Jax. Tell him it’s what I want, that I’m behind you one hundred percent. I think he’ll want to help these guys, too. If he approves it, you can run the new HERO Force any way you see fit, as long as they’re good soldiers. I trust you.”
Mac lifted his chin. “The best.”
A new office. A new job. A chance to get back everything he’d lost. Mac smiled. “Let’s do this.”
10
Olivia’s whole body ached from fighting against her attacker, but none of her bones were broken. She had a slight concussion from hitting her head when she was thrown into the van and enough bruises to keep the makeup department busy for hours, but she was going to be okay.
She’d faced the boogeyman who’d been terrifying her for weeks and was that much stronger for it. The reality of the monster who was after her was far easier to take than the fear of who he might be and what might happen to her at his mercy.
The fact that she’d been betrayed by the man who was supposed to protect her wasn’t lost on her, though one thing failed to make sense. The bodyguard was brought on board after she first received a threatening note, not before.
Maybe he was working elsewhere on the movie.
He clearly had his sights set on her even before he’d been granted such good access. Maybe he’d even asked for the job when it became available.
She shook her shoulders. It was difficult to imagine the mind of a stalker. Truly upsetting, and the last thing she needed right now was to be upset.
She turned her thoughts to Trevor, her mind replaying the scene as he’d darted from relative safety behind a vendor cart across the expanse between them. She’d thought for sure he’d be killed. His name had been torn from a vulnerable place deep inside her, the scream of a woman with more to lose than she’d ever realized in her life.
Remembering the moment, a tea
r slipped down her cheek, then another. It felt good to cry after all she’d been through, and she wept wholeheartedly for what might have been. By the time Trevor walked in, she was all worked up. She covered her face with her hands and wiped at her eyes.
“Why are you crying?”
She frowned harshly, trying not to break down again. “Because I love you so much and I almost lost you forever.” She reached for him and he sat on the edge of the bed, holding her. “I’m sorry I’m so emotional.”
“Shh. It’s okay. You’re the one I almost lost.”
“Before that,” she said. “I didn’t know how to tell you what I needed from you.”
“Which is?”
“I have to be stronger than I have been. I can’t hide behind a man, even if that man is you.”
“I never asked you to hide behind me.”
“No, but I did it anyway. You led and I followed. You talked and I listened. I didn’t matter to myself as much as you mattered to me.”
He cupped her cheek. “And I was the opposite. I put myself before you, when I should have put you before everything. It won’t happen again.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to start another HERO Force office. One I own myself so I can decide when I work and when I take care of my family. Mac’s willing to help me.”
“Your family?”
“Yes. You and me, for starters, but I hope we have a couple of kids, too. Marry me, Olivia.”
How many times had she imagined him asking? But in the time she’d been here, she’d changed the way she saw herself—especially in a relationship. “How do we know it will work? That we can walk alongside each other instead of one in front of the other?”
“We don’t. We have faith and we work hard. We love each other and we work together to change what needs fixing. I want to be your husband, Olivia. I want you by my side, and I want to be there for you, always—through the good times and the bad.”
“And if I’m scared?”
“All the good stuff is scary.” He chuckled and kissed the back of her hand. “But I’ll wait as long as it takes. We don’t have to do this now unless you want to.”
She thought of the time she’d spent away from him working on the film. How much she’d missed him. There was no question she wanted to marry him; there was only her own uncertainty about how she was changing. “I’ve been standing behind people for so long, I need to lead the way for a while.”
“There’s no one I’d rather follow,” he said.
“You mean that?”
He nodded. “You might have to put me in my place once in a while. Wrestle me to the ground, that kind of thing.”
She laughed. “I can do that.”
“So you’ll marry me?”
Become his wife. Face the rest of their lives together, helping each other grow into the best they could be. She could trust him to do that. She knew she could. A smile spread slowly across her face, accompanied by a sense of peace. “I will.”
He kissed her, their lips sealing the deal to become husband and wife. “I love you,” she whispered against his mouth.
“I love you, too. More than you know, Livy.”
11
The lavender field was in bloom, the fragrant blossoms permeating the warm evening air as Trevor stood beside Olivia in the setting sun with a preacher who barely spoke English and Mac, their witness.
She wore a plain white dress that hung off her shoulders and gathered at her waist, accentuating her figure and revealing her creamy skin. He thought of the ornate bridal gowns so many women wear, their hair perfectly coiffed, while Olivia’s blew in soft waves on the gentle breeze.
She was beautiful, pure and true. The most simple and complicated woman he’d ever known, and the only one he wanted to spend his life with. He swallowed against a knot that was forming in his throat as the preacher began the ceremony. Then she was talking, the look in her eyes reflecting what he knew must be shining from his own.
“I, Olivia, take you, Trevor, to be my husband. To love and to cherish, to worship with my body, to shelter with my soul, forsaking all others. I promise to be true to you, to accept you as you are and as you grow and become the man you’re meant to be.”
Trevor was smiling as he slid the gold band onto her finger. It looked good there, and he imagined it still catching the light when her hand was old, his love for her just as strong as it was today. He licked his lips. “I, Trevor, take you, Olivia, to be my wife. To love and to cherish, to worship with my body, to shelter with my soul, forsaking all others. I promise to help you shine, to lift you up and honor the woman you are, now and forever.”
“You may kiss your bride,” said the preacher.
Trevor took her face in his hands and touched her lips with his own, savoring the moment, noting the breeze against his skin, the warm fragrance on the air, determined to remember it always.
Her arms went around his neck and she pulled back, smiling at him. “Do you mean that part about lifting me up?” she asked.
“I sure do.” He bent and scooped her into his arms, making her laugh.
“I wish you much good fortune,” said the preacher with a chuckle, walking away.
“I’m going to head out, too,” said Mac. “I’ll be in touch before we fly to New York.”
“Sounds good,” said Trevor. He waited for his friend to start his car before dropping to his knees in the lavender field. Olivia giggled as he laid her on the ground, following her down with his body.
“You’re not seriously doing this,” she said.
“These lavender plants are pretty tall.”
She hit his back as he kissed her again, settling his weight against her. “We’re going to get arrested for indecent exposure.”
“Do they have that in France?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out. It will be a great story to tell our grandchildren.” He was kissing her, the need to connect with her stronger than ever. She hummed softly as she opened her mouth to his, their tongues dancing as she moved beneath him.
“We are not telling anybody about this.”
He’d pulled her to the ground as a joke, but his body was quickly convincing him to make love to her. “Let me make sure they’re gone.” He sat up, seeing both the preacher and Mac’s cars had left the area. In the distance, a summer storm turned the sky purple, the line between it and the blue sky above them sharp and beautiful, making him sure they indeed stood before God on their wedding day.
He turned back to his wife, suddenly choked by emotion. The hem of her dress was pushed to the tops of her thighs, a pink flush covering her chest and cheeks, and he quickly forgot the approaching storm. He ran his hands up her shapely legs and pulled her panties down, kissing his way back up until he licked the swollen folds of her sex, settling on the sweet bud between them.
Her moans of pleasure carried on the fragrant air, the scent of the approaching storm now present, too. The first drops of rain struck his skin as she climaxed beneath his ministrations, and he moved up her body, pulling the neckline of her dress down to reveal her bare breasts.
“I love you, Olivia Hawkins,” he whispered, taking her in his mouth and suckling her nipple, one hand freeing himself from the confines of his pants. The rain was sprinkling now, wetting her skin, and he licked the water off her on the way to kiss her mouth once more.
She guided him into her body as thunder cracked quietly in the distance, the sound mingling with their heavy breaths as he lost himself in the sensations of loving her.
This was his wife. They moved together, each one half of the whole, becoming something greater than they had been on their own. He came with a rush of emotion, their bodies one beneath the purple clouds, hers milking him with the strong strokes of her orgasm.
When the last of the tremors subsided, she linked her ankles behind his rain-dappled ass. “I’ll love you forever,” she whispered.
Forever.
Thunder rolle
d, contentment filling him up and welling over. “Me, too.”
12
It rained on their way back to the hotel, which Olivia insisted was good luck. She stared a the fields of lavender as they sped past, strips of earth flashing between their purple rows. Trevor reached over and took her hand, her smaller fingers curling around his, and she sighed, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
It was nearly dark by the time they reached the hotel. A ridiculously large bouquet of deep red roses stood on the table in their room.
Olivia cocked her head. “I wonder who sent them.” She’d told several members of the cast and crew about her impromptu wedding today, taking special joy in telling Lockheed she wouldn’t be on the set. It was just as well, since the shower scene they were filming didn’t involve her.
“There’s a card,” said Trevor.
She picked it up, the angry slant of the black penmanship conjuring a visceral reaction. She gasped, suddenly lightheaded. “It’s him.”
Trevor cursed as he took it from her hand and read it out loud. “Congratulations on your marriage. Love always, Evan Lockheed.”
She brace herself on the back of a chair. “Lockheed was the stalker. Then how was the bodyguard involved?”
A metallic click made her turn around. There stood the director in the open doorway, a gun in his hand. “He’s my cousin, Reynaldo. Not the brightest crayon in the box. He caught me sneaking into your room and I had to tell him something.” He moved deeper into the room. “Terribly afraid of the occult, that one. You’ve got to admit, I did a pretty good job acting innocent. Maybe I should have been on the other side of the camera acting with you.”
“You have no right to be here,” she said, her voice low and menacing. She’d been scared too many times, afraid of the unknown, the mystery man now revealed. Facing him made her strong. There was nothing Evan Lockheed could do to her that he hadn’t already done in her terrified imagination. She lifted her chin. “Get out.”