by Lora Leigh
He was pushing her arms into something … a Kevlar vest her father kept in the vehicles. Oh God …
“No.” She slapped at his hands, tried to push the vest off, struggled against his hold. “Take it off. Take it off…”
She couldn’t wear it. He had to wear it. He had to put that vest on.
She couldn’t lose him again …
She stilled, eyes wide as the nightmare receded and she found herself staring into his eyes, her nails digging into his arms as she fought against what had to be something other than memory.
“You wear it.” Her voice felt hoarse as she fought to speak past the shudders tearing through her. “Don’t die for me…”
Her voice broke on a sob, the sound of the words echoing in her mind until she felt as though she were going crazy.
“I have one. I’m safe.” He strapped the vest on her, then he was jerking on another, slapping the straps in place, then retrieving the weapon he’d placed on the seat beside him. “Grisha. Ready,” he snapped.
The door popped open, and she was pulled from the vehicle, then rushed to the second SUV. The driver was ordered out of the driver’s seat, and Grisha slid in as Drew and Riordan pushed her into the back. The agent who had ridden in the passenger seat now sat in the seat across from her; the previous driver in the seat beside Grisha.
The SUV peeled out as Riordan snapped orders into his phone. “We have three vehicles on their way from the estate, ETA no more than two minutes,” he reported to the others before turning his attention back to the phone. “Get off my ass, Ivan, we’re moving as fast as we can. Just get someone on the Suburban. I want to know what happened to that tire.”
He was hard. His voice was hard, his eyes were hard, and his expression was savage as he cursed her father. “Ivan, I’m going to fucking shoot you if you don’t get off my back,” he growled, his gaze always moving, tracking everything as the SUV raced for the estate. “I see them now. Have Tobias head to the Suburban. I want his report ASAP. The rest of them can follow us … fuck you. Give him the message or I’ll stop this goddamn vehicle and tell him myself.”
Riordan wasn’t screaming, though she could hear her father yelling on the other end. Evidently, he’d listened though. One SUV raced past them as the others executed a middle-of-the-road turn, tires screaming before they raced in behind them.
“Amara, honey, ease up.” Riordan’s hand covered both of hers, and it was only then that she realized the hold she had on his wrist, her nails digging in as she fought to hold onto her self-control. “It’s okay. We’re almost home.”
As she released him, his arm went around her, dragging her closer, holding her to him as her father continued screaming through the cell phone. For once, she was damn glad she couldn’t hear what he was saying—she could hear the enraged sound of his voice, and that was more than enough.
As she sat there, cradled close to Riordan’s body, the shadows in her mind were roiling. Glancing memories, the sharp retorts of gunfire, the sight of brilliant red weapon discharges clashed with the memories of her teasing laughter, asking someone if they jacked off thinking about her; of snow falling as she lay in her bed in New York, aware of someone holding her, kissing her shoulder.
Nothing was clear enough—she wasn’t even certain if it was memory or dreams mixed with nightmares that filled her head. She was too frightened, too filled with panic that someone was going to be hurt, someone was going to die for her. And she couldn’t help but feel that someone had already done that. Someone she had cared about.
All she could do was hold onto Riordan, hold onto his arm with all her strength until they reach the estate. And then he was lifting her, carrying her from the SUV and into the house.
“Riordan!” Her father’s explosive order was ignored as Riordan strode through the foyer and up the stairs.
The sound of others following could be heard: her father’s curses, Noah’s shouted demands. The sounds were spinning in her head, clashing through her senses as she buried her head in Riordan’s shoulder and tried to tell herself she was safe. Riordan was safe. No one was hurt.
No one was hurt.
So why did she have the overwhelming feeling that someone had been more than hurt. That she’d lost someone and that the loss was breaking her from the inside out.
Riordan pushed into Amara’s room and strode straight to her bed before placing her on it. After stripping the Kevlar vest from her, he carefully removed her jacket.
“I’m fine.” Her voice was thin, ragged, as she tried to sit up, tried to brush his hands away.
“Stay still.” He couldn’t soften the snap in his voice. “And stop lying to me.”
When he gripped her arm, she flinched before she could halt the action. His firm touch moved to her right forearm. That arm was already weak, not fully recovered from the break it suffered during her abduction.
“I just sprained it.” She jerked her arm back.
Gripping it again, he pushed the loose sleeve of her sweater up her arm to see the deep, darkening bruise marring her skin.
“Doctor will be here within half an hour.” Ivan was calmer now as he checked the bruise before lifting his gaze to his daughter. “You don’t have to be so brave, little flower,” he reminded her as he always did when she was hurt. “Tell Poppa how bad it is.”
She shook her head and swallowed tightly. “It’s not broken, Poppa,” she promised him. “I was trying to get up and my arm went beneath the seat and hit the metal I believe. It’s just a bruise.”
He brushed her hair back as she returned his stare, unable to control the trembling of her lower lip for a second. It was just a second, but it was enough for her poppa’s face to contort, and before she knew what he was doing, she was in his arms, her head held to his heart.
“You don’t have to be so damn brave all the time. You can cry,” he whispered hoarsely at her ear.
“It’s okay, Poppa. I’m fine.” She tried to comfort him, to reassure him. “I’m safe. I swear.”
“Stubborn girl.” He released her, glared at Riordan as he sat beside her on her bed, then turned back to his daughter. “I’ll see where that damn doctor is. He should be here.”
He stomped from the room, snapping the door behind him.
Silence filled his absence.
“He’s upset,” she whispered, glancing at Riordan.
Her father had always tried to protect her, to make her life carefree and happy, but perhaps she hadn’t realized the lengths he had gone to, or how he’d seemed to have put his own life on hold to raise her.
She turned to Riordan and stared up at him, the memory of the nightmare that slammed into her head when the SUV went out of control causing her breathing to hitch.
He was there, so obviously he hadn’t died.
“By God, he’s not the only one who’s upset.” Her head was tipped back, her lips parting in surprise when Riordan suddenly covered them with his.
The kiss was brief. It wasn’t exactly erotic. It was desperate, filled with some emotion she couldn’t make sense of and yet somehow had stilled the panic that was rising within her.
When he pulled back, she stared into those bleak, dark sapphire eyes and knew to the bottom her soul that he’d give his life for hers.
And that she couldn’t allow that.
She couldn’t …
“Did he lie to me about my rescue?” The question seemed to ask itself before she could stop it. “Did someone die? Did someone I care about die?”
Why did she keep fearing it was him? He was there with her. He was alive, not dead, yet she couldn’t shake the fear.
His jaw clenched. “All the men who were sent in to rescue you are alive. Why do you ask?”
Uncertainty, confusion, the emotions that filled her expression, tore at him, made him want to tell her what she couldn’t remember despite his grandfather’s warning.
“I remember someone dying,” she whispered, as though almost afraid to say the words. “I hear it in m
y head. Someone screaming…”
She shook her head as she lowered it and stared at her hands.
“Is that all you remember?” Why hadn’t she remembered him? Remembered what they had been to each other?
“Grief.” She swallowed tightly, her hands linking together nervously. “I remember grief. That’s all. After the nightmares, whenever I hear that voice screaming that they were losing someone. I just feel grief.”
* * *
Grief.
Riordan stroked her cheek, let his touch linger against the soft warmth of her skin, and he knew it was the fear of his death that haunted her. And he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell her that the nightmares were memories, and that for precious seconds his heart had stopped beating.
“Everyone lived,” he promised her again. “No one died for you, baby.”
But he would have, if it would have meant her safety. He would have walked into the abyss and stayed there if it would have assured she would live her life without further threat of harm.
But he knew better. He’d known better then.
“I’m scared,” she whispered, staring into his eyes, fine tremors racing through her body. “I lost someone there, I know I did and Poppa’s not telling me…”
“You didn’t lose anyone there, baby. I promise.” But he could see her fear, her certainty that she had. “Ivan couldn’t hide that from me. If anyone had died on that mission I would know it. And I swear, I wouldn’t lie to you about it.”
Not about that. She was lost enough within her own battle between her memories and her determination to hide from them. He wouldn’t let her be ambushed when those memories did return.
“Whoever tried to kill me the first time is back, aren’t they Riordan?” Her lower lip trembled before she controlled it. “Someone wants me dead.”
The tears in her eyes didn’t fall, and she wasn’t sobbing in fear and hysteria. God, she shouldn’t have to be this strong. She shouldn’t have to face so much at one time.
“I don’t know. Not for sure,” he finally answered, knowing he couldn’t give her false assurances. “I just don’t know yet. But if they are, I promise you this, Amara, they have a whole lot of men they’ll have to go through to get to you. And if they get lucky enough to get past those men, then they’ll have to deal with me and Noah. And that’s something they don’t want to do.”
Her hand lifted and touched his jaw as a single tear fell.
“Don’t die for me, Riordan. Please, don’t die for me…”
chapter eleven
Noah stepped into the house, gazed around, and couldn’t help the clenching of his heart.
It was always liked this. Never changed.
The living room was scattered with children’s toys, the girls lying on their stomachs coloring while Noah Jr. sat sprawled in a chair with one of the comics he liked while still keeping an eye on his sisters.
The boy was growing up older than his years, Noah thought. But, he’d been born with wise eyes. Fey eyes, Grandpops had said. A man in a boy’s body.
“Hey, Dad,” his son greeted him as he watched him intently, somehow knowing that his father was worried about something.
Immediately, the girls were off the floor and flying to his arms. Kneeling, he caught them to his chest, buried his face against each tiny shoulder, and hugged them firmly as they smacked kisses to his cheeks.
When love, laughter, and kisses had been dispensed by the delicate girls, Noah rose to his feet and strode to the kitchen where his Bella waited with the go-bag he’d asked her to pack.
For more than eight years he hadn’t left her for anything but the safest missions. Over watch, planning, or to help one of the men he’d trained with in the Elite Ops, less than half a dozen times, and each time he’d promised he’d be nowhere near flying bullets or crazy drug lords.
He could see the fear in her eyes now though. In all this time, he’d never asked her to pack his bag, nor had he ever pulled the young women from Ops Two in as security as he had this time.
“It’s Riordan,” he told her softly as he bent to kiss her cheek, knowing he had to explain, had to let her know he wouldn’t just go operational on her at the drop of a hat.
Pulling back and staring into her pretty eyes, his stomach tightened, his need for her never far from the surface.
Glancing back at the kids and seeing them distracted by their various interests, he pulled her deeper into the kitchen.
“He’s in trouble?” she asked, uncertain.
Riordan never got into trouble anymore. His wild days as a brash, unruly youth were far, far behind him.
“He’s with Resnova in Colorado. Someone attempted to take the SUV out an hour ago. We suspect it was an attempt against Amara again. Tobias suspects the tire was shot out. I can’t leave him there alone. Grandpops is worried about the girl. He’s worried, period.”
Why Grandpops had insisted on going, neither Noah nor Riordan could understand.
Riordan had still been yelling at him to keep his ass at home when Noah hung up the phone on him. His brother was furious with him.
“Micah’s meeting me at base and we’ll fly out from there. I just want to keep an eye on him,” he promised her.
That was his baby brother. The brother who had been born amid death and pain. The one who had lost friends, lost his faith in those around him at a time when he’d needed it most. Noah had already deserted his wife and brother once, he couldn’t do it again. Not and live with it should the worst happen.
“Keep an eye on him.” She nodded, but her expression was still too solemn. “Nightly calls, Noah,” she reminded him firmly. “And you come home to me in working order. Understood?”
In working order.
A grin edged at his lips as he felt his cock tighten. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to slip her up those stairs, have her before he left, but it was one of those unspoken rules now.
He’d taken her just before a mission that had nearly killed him. It had killed the man he had been, Nathan Malone, and brought Noah Blake back to her. A man who loved her deeper than before, but one who bore the scars of his battle to return to her.
“Understood,” he whispered, lowering his lips for a kiss. “Nightly calls. Return in working order.”
The kiss threatened to become more than the kids should see before he lifted his head and turned to check on them again.
Noah Jr. stood at the side of the living room window, turning even as Noah did.
“Why are the aunts here, Dad?” The aunts. The girls of Ops Two were a steady part of their lives, but still, agents.
“They’ll be staying while I go help Uncle Riordan with a few things.” Noah didn’t lie to him. Not exactly. “You know I don’t like leaving your mom and you kids alone.”
His son wasn’t exactly fooled, but he accepted the explanation.
“He’s so grown up,” Bella sighed. “I worry. Grandpops says he’s just like you at that age.”
Maybe, Noah thought, but in other ways, maybe not. Noah Jr. had a father who would never neglect him, never turn from him. Those children and their mother were his life, but so was his brother.
“I’ll keep you updated,” he promised, turning back to her. “We’re just going to keep Rory’s ass out the fire. I promise.”
“Keep your own out while you’re at it,” she demanded fiercely. “You know the rules.”
“I know the rules.” He grinned.
He’d had to sign them before she’d agree to marry him as Noah Blake. Those rules were law as far as he was concerned.
Demanding another kiss, another that went almost too deep, too hot again, he forced himself from her. He gave each of his girls another hug with a promise to call before bedtime, then turned to his son.
The boy might be too old for his years, but he was hugged as well. A fierce hug was returned and a soft, “Take care, Dad.”
Damn, it was always Noah who got him in the gut. The boy really was too damned much like himself at
that age.
“Love you, son,” Noah said, kissing the top of his son’s head. “Watch after your sisters while I’m gone.”
“Always.” The wry, put-upon tone had the grin deepening at his lips. “Love you too, Dad.”
The final promise was something Noah never took for granted.
When he returned, maybe he and Noah needed to have another of those talks about brothers being too protective. Not that the last one had done him much good.
With his wife at his side he went to the door, gave her one last kiss, and strode to his truck.
Driving away from the house, he promised himself, as he always did now, that he was coming back. If there was a breath left in his body, he’d return.
And if there wasn’t?
Well, like Grandpops said about Grandma Erin, he’d still return.
chapter twelve
Riordan stared at Tobias’s report broodingly hours later, aware of the other men’s silence and their presence. Because, dammit, they shouldn’t be there. Knowing he’d have done the same thing if his brother were in a similar situation didn’t matter. Noah had Bella, and she’d already lost him once. And now, they had the kids and another on the way. It was crazy for him to be here.
But here he was, along with his commander of the Elite Ops One. And it was obvious there was no getting rid of him.
The pictures, the state police report, Tobias’s own findings as well as Noah and Micah’s were displayed on the tablet resting on the low table in front of him.
He’d had the other men come to his suite rather than to Ivan’s office to allow him to go over everything and form his own opinion before meeting with Amara’s father. The sitting area was more conductive to a private conversation than anywhere else in the estate and he didn’t fully trust Ivan’s staff. But then, he didn’t fully trust some people that he’d known all his life.
But he did trust these three men, especially when it came to vehicles or to covering his back. When it came to Amara’s life, they were the only people, besides himself and her father, that he’d ever trust.