The Heart Has Reasons

by Martine Marchand

  When Jarvis paused and gazed across the table at her and Chase, Brendon asked, “So what happened to her when you all made it back? Was she executed?”

  Jarvis shook his head. “She escaped the night before we reached our base.”

  Chase stated flatly, “You set her free.”

  “That was the general consensus among the Salvadoran troops,” Jarvis admitted, “although they were unable to prove it.”

  He absently regarded the utensil in his hand, then placed it on the table. “People make mistakes, sometimes huge mistakes. Should they be punished for them? As I said before, things are not always black or white. Ms. Santos, I agree with you. I too believe the man who kidnapped you did so not from any malice of character but because he was misled by Brian Sparrow. Would justice be served by sending him to prison for the remainder of his life? I think not, no more than justice would have been served by that young Salvadoran woman’s execution.”

  “So, what happened to her,” Larissa asked. “Did you ever see her again?”

  Jarvis fixed his dark eyes on her and paused for dramatic effect. “I eventually managed to smuggle Encarnita out of El Salvador, and she and I have been married for twenty-four years. She is the love and the light of my life.” He shrugged. “The heart has reasons that Reason knows nothing of.”

  Brendon regarded him with something akin to awe. “Agent Jarvis, you are a romantic.”

  “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.” He gazed across the expanse of the table at Chase. “Mr. O’Malley, may I assume you have feelings for Ms. Santos?”

  “I love her more than life itself.” Shock jolted through Larissa at hearing him make such a statement to the FBI agent, but Jarvis appeared not at all surprised.

  “Then, perhaps all this has happened for a reason. In addition to you two finding each other, Ms. Santos killed Brian Sparrow.” He paused to cast a meaningful glance at Chase. “Or, at least, someone did. And as Ms. Santos pointed out, had Sparrow not been killed, who knows how many more young women would have died. So, without a doubt, something good has come of all this.”

  He pulled a card from his breast pocket and placed it on the table before Larissa. “Ms. Santos, unless you can provide us with more details about the man who abducted you, I’m afraid he’ll never be caught. Kidnapping is a capital offence, and therefore the case will always remain open. For lack of evidence, though, the investigation itself will be unofficially shelved. If you remember anything else about the man, please call me.”

  “I will. And thank you, Agent Jarvis.”

  When she hesitated for a moment, he prompted, “Yes?”

  “Well … I just wanted to say that you and Agent Harris were wrong regarding” — she lowered her voice to a mere whisper — “Stockholm syndrome.”

  “I know. However, at the time it was a possibility that we had to take into consideration.”

  “And if my kidnapper had killed Sparrow, he would never have asked me to take the blame. I would have insisted upon it myself.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Jarvis extended his hand across the table to her. “Ms. Santos, it was a pleasure seeing you again, and I hope you’ll forgive me for disturbing your dinner.”

  A wash of relief brought a lump to her throat. As she took his huge hand in both of her own, tears welled up again to spill unchecked down her cheeks. “Thank you, Agent Jarvis. I can’t even begin to express what this means to me. To us. And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be more … forthcoming … during the investigation.” She then surprised herself by asking, “Will you stay and have dinner with us?”

  “Thank you, but I’m anxious to get home. My wife and I have a movie to watch.” He gave her a wink, then stood. Chase and Brendon got to their feet as well. Afraid that her legs would refuse to support her, Larissa again stayed seated.

  Jarvis turned to Brendon and shook his hand. “Mr. Bishop, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “Likewise.”

  Jarvis turned to Chase. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. O’Malley. If you force me to return to Charleston, the consequences won’t be pleasant.”

  “I understand, sir, but you need have no concerns. From here on out, I intend to walk the straight and narrow.”

  “See that you do.” When Jarvis extended a hand, Chase took it in a firm clasp. “De Oppresso Liber, Mr. O’Malley.” Snapping a smart salute, he turned on his heel and strode from the restaurant.

  Lowering himself back into his chair, Chase muttered, “I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch.”

  Larissa dabbed her napkin at the corner of her eyes, trying to blot the tears before her mascara ran. “What was that he said?”

  “De Oppresso Liber, the Special Forces motto. It’s Latin, meaning, ‘To free the oppressed’. Jarvis was Special Forces, too. That’s why he was in El Salvador.”

  “Could this be a trick?”

  “No. He’s closing the investigation.”

  As another surge of relief spilled through her, her nervous, fidgety movements escalated into uncontrollable shivers that shook her entire body. Chase scooted his chair closer to hers, circled an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Everything’s going to be all right, Larissa,” he whispered. “Don’t cry.”

  “I can’t help it. When I looked up and saw him standing there, I thought my heart was going to stop.”

  Slipping his other hand behind her neck to pull her closer, he kissed her forehead. “I thought mine would, too.”

  Their waiter suddenly descended upon their table, to stand there gazing uncertainly at them. “Was that man really with the FBI?” When Brendon nodded in the affirmative, he asked, “What did he want.”

  “It was all a case of mistaken identity,” Brendon assured him. “We straightened it out.”

  Larissa turned her attention back to Chase, and whispered, “I’m okay, now. Is it really over?”

  “It is. You’re stuck with me now.”

  He held her for several minutes while she struggled to regain some semblance of control over her emotions. Finally, her shoulders eased and she slumped back in her chair, blotting the last of the tears from her eyes.

  When the waiter reappeared to place a brandy before each of them, Brendon said, “I thought we all could use a drink.”

  “I certainly can,” said Larissa. The flood of adrenaline still surging through her veins had her feeling jittery and shaky. She gulped half the brandy, which immediately sent small curling tendrils of heat flowing through her.

  When Chase made no move to touch his, Brendon said, “You don’t drink?”

  “Alcohol slows the reflexes. I prefer to stay on top of my game.”

  Larissa could plainly see the strain on his face. “Chase, are you sure you won’t have just one, to take the edge off?”

  “I’ll go for a run when we get home.”

  She divided Chase’s drink between her and Brendon’s glasses, and they each pretended to study their menus while she and Brendon sipped their brandy. An overwhelming sense of unreality overcame her, making her feel vaguely disconnected, as if she were merely acting a part.

  Finally, the brandy began to take hold, opening a comforting blossom of warmth in her core and thawing her frigid extremities. The future, which a short while ago had contracted into a light-devouring black hole, began opening out again into all its wondrous possibilities.

  Brendon and their waiter flirted with each other while they placed their orders. Larissa kept a surreptitious eye on Chase, to see how he’d react to the two men, but he seemed completely unperturbed.

  Either the aftermath of fear, or the brandy, or a combination of both eventually had her feeling dreamy and light — weightless — as if she might float up out of her chair. Even Chase seemed to relax, apparently intoxicated simply by the glorious knowledge of his freedom. Before long, a mood of joyous exhilaration swept over them, and they laughed and joked all through their meal.

  Once their waiter had removed their plates, he returned to as
k, “Would the lady care for dessert?”

  “I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.”

  “She’ll have the tiramisu,” Chase cut in. “In fact, she’ll have two.”

  “Chase!”

  “I miss those luscious, womanly curves.”

  “You see!” said Brendon. “I told you, Larissa — nobody but a dog wants a bone.”

  She regarded them in mock horror. “Are you two going to start ganging up on me?”

  Brendon and Chase locked eyes with each other for a moment, and then chorused in perfect unison, “Yes.”

  She threw her hands up in surrender and turned back to the waiter. “It looks like I’m having the freaking tiramisu. But, only one.”

  CHAPTER 44

  As Larissa stripped out of her dress and heels, Chase remarked, “You were quiet all the way home. You okay?”

  “Just stressed. The brandy wore off too quickly.” She tugged up a pair of yoga pants. “I didn’t realize you abstain from alcohol.”

  “Like I told Brendon, I prefer to stay on top of my game. But also, since my old man was a drunk, I want to ensure I don’t end up like him.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. I guess I’ll quit.”

  “You don’t have to do that on my account.”

  She made a dismissive gesture. “For the past two years I’ve been drinking too much. It’s time I stopped.” She smiled at him. “You inspire me to take better care of myself.”

  He stepped out of his dress slacks. “Well, I’m definitely going to make sure you start eating better. No more fast food or microwave dinners.” He carefully hung up his clothes and stood before her clad only in boxer briefs, every muscle of his body visibly tense. “Jesus, I’m wound so tight I feel like I’m going to explode. Why don’t you come running with me?”

  She crossed the room and bumped into him suggestively. “I can think of more enjoyable things to do to relax.”

  “So can I, and I fully intend for us to do those things, but after I unwind. If you don’t want to come with me, you can do some yoga while I’m gone.”

  “Yoga’s not what I’m in the mood for.” She ran her hands over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath the springy hair. When she circled his nipples with her thumbs, they immediately grew hard, and she gave them a pinch. With a swift intake of breath, he grabbed her roughly and crushed her against his chest, hard enough to make the breath whoosh from her.

  Just as abruptly, he released her and held her at arm’s length. “Shit. See what I mean? Right now, I’m in no condition to make love to you.”

  “Really?” She reached down to caress the erection straining against his briefs. “I’m afraid the evidence at hand doesn’t support that claim.”

  “What I’m trying to say is that it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to make love to you now. I’m wound so tight I might be too rough with you.”

  “Be rough, then. You should know by now I’m not fragile. Or, maybe you’re worried I’ll be too rough with you.” She placed both hands against his upper chest and shoved hard, making him rock back onto his heels.

  “Yeah, right.” He gave her a little one-handed shove in return. When she had to windmill her arms to keep her balance, he laughed.

  “Oh, you think that’s funny?” She took a step back and fell into a defensive stance, fists coming up to guard her face. “Come on, then. Show me what you’ve got.”

  The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “Quit screwing around. I’m going for a run.”

  “No, you’re not. Come on, show me what you’ve got.” When she threw a punch at him, he casually blocked it. “What’s wrong?” she taunted. “Afraid?”

  He neatly sidestepped the roundhouse kick she launched. “If you don’t stop, you’re going to be sorry.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  He dodged the blow she aimed at his chin. “I don’t threaten. I promise.”

  In her small bedroom, they circled each other in a tight ring of strike and parry, and the appraising way he eyed her made her pulse race. “You know what I think? I think you want me to turn you over my knee and spank that cute little ass of yours.”

  Her breath caught as a spike of anticipation dove deep. “Oh, yeah?” she shot back, throwing another punch that he again blocked. “You know what I think? I think you’re all talk and no action.”

  Moving so fast that she cried out in surprise, he grabbed her and pinned her arms to her sides, then dragged her, struggling and cursing, across the room to drop her onto the mattress. The moment he released her, she catapulted from the bed. He halted her attempt at flight by grabbing the waistband of her yoga pants. Jerking her back to him, he yanked her pants down to her knees and administered a resounding smack to the cheek of one buttock.

  She cried out “Ow!” as a rivulet of sudden fear trickled through her. Yanking her pants back up, she aimed another blow at him, this time catching him in the chest. He grabbed her and dropped her back onto the bed. When she rolled away to the opposite side, he dove for her and clutched one ankle.

  Kicking free from his grasp, she tried to lurch back up to her feet. Hooking an arm about her waist, he dropped onto the edge of the bed and flipped her face down across his thighs. As a river of delicious tension pooled deep in her groin, she thrashed and fought to get away from him.

  Without warning, he yanked her pants down to her knees. “Chase, don’t!” When the palm of his hand came down smartly against her ass, she jerked and cried out, “Ow!”

  “I should have done this that first night at the motel. Things would have gone so much smoother if I had.”

  “Screw you!” she spat, and immediately followed that with another “Ow!” as he smacked the other cheek. “Asshole!”

  “Bitch.”

  She jerked and cried out “Ow,” as his hand came down again.

  “Tell me you’re sorry and I’ll stop.”

  An alarming wave of heat was radiating through her. “No. Ow!”

  “Say you’re sorry!”

  “Fuck you. Ow-w-w!”

  He applied a half dozen more resounding slaps to her ass, alternating cheeks, while she screamed and cursed and fought to free herself from his grasp.

  He suddenly released her and, with one smooth motion, grabbed the pants bunched around her knees and pulled them off. Chest heaving and ass smarting, Larissa hastily flung herself across the bed and pressed her back to the headboard. He peeled his underwear off in one swift movement, grabbed both of her ankles, and yanked her across the mattress toward him.

  Pulse thrumming with desire, she glanced down at the huge erection pointing at her. Widening her eyes in mock surprise, she clamped her thighs together. “Oh, no you’re not!”

  “Oh, yes I am,” he taunted. He fell on top of her and they grappled with one another until he managed to wedge first one, and then the other knee between her legs. As he pried her thighs wide open, Larissa brought her hands to his chest, grasped his nipples and squeezed, hard. Grunting in pain, he sheathed himself to the hilt in a single thrust that made her back arch.

  Trying to keep up the pretense of resistance, she struggled against him as he hammered himself into her like a battering ram. Each stroke seemed to reach the very core of her being. As her body quivered and clutched at him, she began breathlessly chanting, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” In answer, his strong hands cupped her ass, lifting her so that he was able to penetrate deeper. He thrust into her repeatedly, with a solid, inexorable pounding that teetered on the very edge between pleasure and pain.

  “Chase!” she cried. “Oh god, Chase!” As her entire body convulsed, he redoubled his assault, battering her with a savage urgency until he too cried out, with a sound midway between a groan and a sob.

  Afterward, they lay there in silence for several minutes, breathing heavily. The blood pounded in Larissa’s ears, echoing the fading pulse between her legs. When Chase raised his head to peer into her face, she could see the fear in his eyes. Fear that he’d somehow misunderstood
. That he’d gone too far. That he’d hurt her. She laughed aloud, cupped the firm rounds of his buttocks, and pulled him deeper into her. “Now, wasn’t that better than going for a run?”

  Clearly relieved, he clutched her hard against his chest and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Oh, Jesus, Larissa. I love you so much I can hardly bear it.” Enjoying the quivering spasms that continued to ripple through her, she made no response. Finally, he asked, “Do you love me even a little?”

  “How can you ask that? You know I do.”

  “How would I know? You’ve never said it.”

  “Anyone can say the words ‘I love you’, but saying it doesn’t make it true. Actions speak louder than words, and it seems to me that everything I’ve done speaks volumes as to how I feel about you.”

  “Still, it would be nice to hear you say it.”

  She clasped his face between her hands and gazed into his eyes. “I love you, Chase. I love you so much it terrifies me. After I left California believing I’d never see you again, the pain was so great I thought I’d die of it. And now that you’re here, I feel … totally overwhelmed. I feel like I might lose myself.”

  He clutched her tighter to him. “That’s exactly how I feel. I just didn’t have the words to express it. When I’m with you, I feel as though I’m nearly invincible, as if I could take on the whole world. And yet, conversely, you make me feel weak and powerless, because I know that with just a word you could bring me to my knees.”

  She pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him long and deep. “This still seems like a dream to me,” she said finally. “A wonderful dream from which I don’t want to awaken.”

  “When Jarvis showed up, I thought the dream had turned into a nightmare.”