Silent Rescue

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  The firm statement made Maryse’s heart swell. “Me, neither.”

  She threaded her fingers through his and pressed them up over his head. Then she lifted up to her knees and—with her gaze locked on Brooks’s hazel eyes—eased down slowly. Her body ached as he filled her, and for a moment, she simply sat still, in awe of the sweetly torturous feeling. Then she rocked forward. His eyes dropped shut. And the world of conscious thought slipped away, replaced by instinct. They moved together, faster and faster, locked in a rhythm that was all their own.

  The heat built quickly, fueled how well they fit, how perfectly in tune their bodies were. The pace became near frenzied, need outweighing everything else. And soon it reached a crescendo. Brooks clutched at her hips. He drove upward and said her name, his voice throaty and full of want. And that was her undoing. She cried something back—wordless, but far from meaningless—and she shuddered against him, then collapsed to his chest. She tried to speak, but her mouth was as spent as the rest of her body, so she settled for a satisfied murmur and tucked herself into his embrace instead.

  As Brooks trailed his fingers up and down her spine, her eyes wanted to close. She realized this was the first time she’d been truly still since she found Cami’s bed empty. And with good reason. But now exhaustion crept in. Her mind and body both wanted to drift, and she could feel sleep pulling at her. She wished she could give in. She knew she couldn’t.

  “Brooks...”

  He sighed. “I know, sweetheart. We gotta move or we won’t make our flight.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You’ve been in Canada too long. You’re apologizing for things you don’t need to be sorry for.”

  “Sor—er. I mean.”

  “See?”

  She laughed and started to reply, but as her gaze slipped out the fogged-up windows, she froze.

  Brooks immediately pushed to his elbow. “What’s wrong?”

  She swallowed. “There’s a patrol car headed this way. Lights on, sirens off.”

  “Crap.”

  “To put it mildly.”

  She made herself move, fumbling around in search of something—anything to use to cover herself up. Why were her clothes suddenly so elusive? Even her coat was nowhere to be seen. And the flash of red and blue was bright now, cutting through the recently darkened sky.

  Brooks’s hand closed on her wrist. “Stop.”

  “But the car’s going to be here any second!”

  “I know. Just lie back down.”

  Pushing aside the need to do anything but be calm, Maryse flopped back onto his chest. Brooks reached around her to pull up his sweatshirt. He tucked it around her just as the lights flooded the car and the sound of tires crunching on gravel carried through the air.

  “What now?” Maryse whispered.

  “Wait.”

  Moments later, a fist rapped sharply on the driver’s side window. Still holding her close, he sat up and made a show of peering out the window. The officer tapped again, and this time, Brooks opened the door a crack.

  The policeman—a surprisingly older patrolman with ample gray peeking out from under his hat and a stern, fatherly look on his face—cleared his throat. “Sir. Ma’am.”

  Brooks blinked at him. “Yeah?”

  “Everything all right in here?”

  “I’d go with more than ‘all right.’” Brooks sounded so offended that Maryse almost laughed.

  But her amusement died as the cop directed his attention her way. “You here because you want to be?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “You sure?”

  “A hundred percent.”

  He scrutinized her for a moment longer, then looked back at Brooks. “Kind of a public spot.”

  “Kind of the point,” Brooks said, now sounding smug rather than offended.

  “You been out here awhile?”

  “Not long enough.”

  “Too long, I think,” the cop replied drily. “Time to think about packing up. You headed into Laval?”

  “Montreal,” Brooks corrected, then added, “Everything all right out there?”

  “Bit of trouble up the road. Abandoned car. Still probably best if you take off.”

  “You got it, Officer.”

  The cop offered them a smile and tipped his hat. “Stay safe.”

  Then he closed the door firmly and headed back to his car.

  Maryse stared after the vehicle as it pulled away.

  Stay safe.

  The words sent a tickle of concern and guilt through her. Through the course of their encounter—and her enthusiasm for spontaneity—she hadn’t thought about safety at all.

  Stupid.

  Biting her lip, she tossed back the jacket, climbed over to the passenger seat and scrambled to find her clothes.

  She spoke breathlessly as she tossed them on, piece by piece. “You think he knew we had something to do with the supposedly abandoned car?”

  Brooks pulled his T-shirt over his head slowly. “Nope. Wouldn’t have let us go if he did.”

  “Or he could be waiting up the road.”

  “Trust me, sweetheart. I’ve been in his shoes enough times to know he wasn’t suspicious.”

  “Thank God he didn’t see the other side of our car.” She did up her jeans button and stared straight ahead. “Ready?”

  “Something wrong?”

  For a second, she thought about not answering. Or at least not answering truthfully. But she knew it was just a defensive, knee-jerk reaction that could have bad consequences in the long run.

  “We weren’t...um. Safe.” The sentence felt as awkward as it sounded.

  “Safe?”

  “We didn’t...” She trailed off, shrugged and met Brooks’s puzzled gaze, then tried again. “We didn’t use any protection.”

  His face cleared. “Oh. On the safety side of things, sweetheart, I’m in the clear.”

  “Me, too,” she said quickly.

  “And on the baby side of things...”

  Maryse’s stomach was somewhere around her knees. “Yes.”

  “We’ll deal with that in nine months. If we have to.”

  “Brooks. This is serious.”

  “I know. I’m being serious.”

  “But...”

  “But what? It’s not a reality yet. And if it does happen that way, I have no doubt that we’ll work it out.”

  “Okay,” she managed to get out.

  “Okay,” he agreed, sounding far surer than she did.

  She stared at him. She couldn’t help it. He did sound serious. And not the slightest bit worried. A man she’d known less than a day was really telling her—more or less—that he didn’t mind if she wound up pregnant.

  “Ready?” he asked again.

  She nodded, took a breath, tried for her own sake to lighten things. “Well. At least we have a thing.”

  “A thing?”

  “You know. Pretending to be a couple so no one asks questions.”

  She expected him to laugh. Instead, he shook his head.

  “You’re wrong,” he said.

  “About that being our thing?”

  “Oh, we have a thing.”

  “But that’s not it?”

  “Nope. Nothing pretend about us being a couple.”

  Then he leaned across the console and gave her a kiss. Firm. Possessive. Desire-inducing in spite of her recent satiation. And without another word—but with a small, pleased smile on his face—he put the car into Drive and pulled out onto the road.

  Chapter 16

  The quickness of the rest of the trip surprised Maryse, as did the lack of awkwardness and the ease of conversation. In no time, she knew that Brooks
was an only child who’d become a cop because his dad and grandfather were both cops, too. She learned that his father had lost his life in the line of duty when Brooks was just twenty, and that his mother had succumbed to cancer a few short years later. His traveling had been limited to the continental US—and now Canada—and he’d once won a hot dog–eating contest. Most significantly, she discovered that it wasn’t strange for him to place her into his life.

  Like when he said, “I’ve got this insane orange tree in my backyard, and people always tell me it should be dead. But every September—totally off-season—it grows exactly eleven oranges. Best damned things I’ve tasted, and ten American dollars says you’ll think so, too.” It didn’t seem odd to believe that in five months, they’d be sitting by his pool, eating a homegrown piece of fruit.

  He was visibly pleased to hear that she worked a portable job, and he told her data entry was probably more enjoyable in a palm-lined sunroom than in a freezing-cold living room. And it should’ve been scary. Or at least mildly intimidating. She should’ve been wondering if she was riding some kind of adrenaline-endorphin-pheromone high. Instead, she was assuming every bit of it would come true.

  And the best parts were the ones that included Camille.

  When Brooks told her his pool had a slide, and he was glad someone would finally want to use it, her heart swelled. His questions about her daughter’s favorite foods and color preferences were endearing. And maybe it should’ve seemed presumptuous—both on his part and on hers—but it really just seemed exciting. All of it made Maryse long for the ordeal to be over so they could get on with a life that hadn’t even been on her radar as of that morning.

  By the time they made it into the airport and through customs, she was practically bouncing with anticipation. She couldn’t even muster up any subtlety, and as they boarded the plane, the woman at the ticket counter took one look at them and laughed.

  “If you two don’t come back married,” she said, “I’ll eat my left shoe.”

  Maryse blushed as Brooks pulled her a little closer and replied, “I hope you packed something other than that for dinner, then.”

  “I always know,” said the attendant, then handed back their passports. “I’ve moved you up to business class. I like to do that for the ones I’m sure are going to make it. Good luck!”

  “Thanks.”

  He led her up the gangway with his fingers threaded through hers, and she swore he was whistling under his breath.

  When they reached their seats—sixth row—he ushered her in first, then raised an eyebrow. “So?”

  “What?”

  “You wanna talk wedding dresses, or plan the details of our trip?”

  “Very funny. But the wedding wasn’t my idea.”

  “Doesn’t every girl dream of a white dress and a bouquet?” he teased.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Vegas is more about Elvis impersonators and short skirts, isn’t it? And besides that, I was never one of those girls.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope.”

  He studied her face. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  Her face heated. “Why would I lie?”

  “Because discussing flower arrangements with a man you just met might make him think you’re a crazy person?”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but the flight attendant stepped between the rows just then to give his safety speech. Maryse watched the demonstration with exaggerated interest, trying not to give in to the sudden doubt that was creeping in.

  Because this is crazy, she thought, not daring to hazard a glance his way. And when it’s over...

  She swallowed. When it was over, it would make sense for them to go their separate ways. In spite of the infatuation-fueled plans for the future, and no matter what the psychic, shoe-eating woman at the counter said, she and Brooks led very different lives. He was a cop. He put his life on the line every day. Deliberately. She, on the other hand, spent her days hiding. Not exactly living in fear, but definitely being careful to stay off the radar. He was guns. She was board games.

  Beyond the obvious chemistry, were they even compatible?

  As the flight attendant finished his last seat-belt click and the plane started to taxi up the runway, Maryse kept her eyes forward. She hoped that Brooks would drop the marriage discussion. He didn’t. Instead, he reached over and took her hand.

  “You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said.

  “It’s not that I’m pretending,” she replied.

  “You’ve never thought about a fairy-tale wedding?”

  “When I was a kid I thought about it, I guess.” She frowned. “Or maybe just the being married part. Not the getting there.”

  Brooks smiled. “Always the Elvis type, then?”

  “Always the realist type,” she corrected.

  “So a white dress isn’t realistic?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He squeezed her hand. “You can wear a fire-engine-red miniskirt if you want.”

  She suddenly felt like she was going to cry. “It’s not that I’m jaded.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course I do, sweetheart. You took in a baby, no questions asked. You did it without looking back.” He leaned closer and spoke into her ear. “And when that kid went missing, you dropped everything to chase her down. You’re so far from jaded that it’s not even funny.”

  She darted a nervous glance at the passenger in the row across from them, then leaned back and freed her hands so she could sign. I thought we weren’t talking about that on the plane.

  It seems like maybe we should, he said back. At least to make a plan.

  Underneath them, the floor shuddered. The sound of the powerful engines filled the cabin. Then the speed picked up, the noise masking the increased thump of Maryse’s heart. The rev continued for another few minutes before the plane leveled out in the air.

  She turned back to Brooks. This scares me.

  Are we back to the wedding? he asked. Or are we still talking about your daughter?

  “They’re connected, aren’t they?” she said aloud.

  “Ah.”

  “What?”

  Brooks shook his head slightly, and a moment later the flight attendant stopped his cart beside them and smiled down. “Complimentary wine?”

  “No, thank you,” said Maryse at the same second that Brooks said, “Yes, please.”

  The flight attendant laughed. “Which’ll it be?”

  “No,” said Brooks right as Maryse said, “Yes.”

  He set down two plastic glasses. “I’ll just leave these both here.”

  This time, they spoke in unison. “Thank you.”

  The flight attendant grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  Maryse waited until he’d moved a little farther up the aisle, then lifted the cup. “It’s like this.”

  “It’s like cheap champagne?”

  She took a tiny sip. “This is the first taste of alcohol I’ve had since my twenty-first birthday.”

  He gave her a scrutinizing look. “You were twenty-one when Camille was born.”

  “I was.”

  “So you put your life on hold.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Surprise crossed his features. “No?”

  “No. I just adjusted. Quickly. I started a new life. And I never looked back. Never regretted it. That’s how I am.”

  “Sweetheart... I don’t think you’re as much of a realist as you think you are.” He said it with a smile.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You labeled yourself a planner, but you’re actually really good at dealing with the unexpected. You avoid thinking of yourself as spontaneous, but I haven’t once seen you ba
ck down from a challenge, and you’ve met everything that’s been thrown your way with a creative solution. And the whole time, you’ve just known it’s going to work out. You’re an idealist, Maryse.”

  She blinked at him, wondering how he managed to see her so much better than she saw herself. “So maybe my real is ideal.”

  “Maybe.”

  Her hands flicked, asking a weighted question. Is that a bad thing?

  No, Brooks replied. I just wish you’d toss some of that idealism my way.

  What?

  Assume that I’m going to work out, too. Even if it scares you.

  She breathed in, then took another sip of the wine. She let it fill her mouth, the bubbles dancing across her tongue as her thoughts danced through her head. Every time she let her guard down, she did assume things were going to go the right way. It was only when she stopped to think that she started to doubt. And while she was sure some skepticism was necessary—that blind optimism wasn’t the answer—there was something to be said for trusting her instincts, too. Wasn’t there?

  Brooks’s hand closed overtop of hers. “You’re thinking so hard that you’re going to break the cup and waste the free win.”

  She looked down and saw that she’d bent the plastic almost in half. “Whoops.”

  “I’ll cut you a deal,” he said, freeing the wine from her grasp. “You give us the benefit of the doubt, and I’ll spend every moment proving it’s worth it.”

  “Every moment until when?”

  He lifted his hand to her chin. “Every moment of forever.”

  Her breath caught at the intense look in his eyes. “Now who’s the crazy one dreaming of white dresses?”

  He winked, and he dropped his hands to move them through the air. I’m the Elvis type, actually.

  She couldn’t help but smile. Of course you are.

  “So do we have a deal? You’ll stop worrying about us so that we can concentrate on making sure we get the rest of our puzzle pieces put together?” Once again, his hazel gaze was unwavering.

  “Yes.” Maryse nodded, and the word was like a weight lifting off her shoulders. “So what now?”

  “Now...I put my arm around you. Then you put your head on my chest. And you take a nap.”