Complicated Creatures: Part One

by Alexi Lawless

  He said nothing for a moment before he sneered, “Trust you? Samantha, I don’t even know you. You’ve been lying to me for the past few days. I don’t even know if you’re in Texas right now. You think I didn’t pick up on that?” he responded, shifting from white-hot furious to icy in seconds. “I’ve been trusting blindly, hoping you’d come around—hoping you’d open up to me. And this happens, and I realize I’m holding onto smoke. You’re smoke and mirrors, Samantha. And now my brother could die on your watch, and you want me to sit still and do nothing but have faith in someone who can’t—” Jack took a shaky breath. “Won’t be honest with me. Ever.” She heard Jack slam his hand down in frustration.

  “Jack,” Samantha replied levelly. “You can be angry with me as a lover, but this is my job. I am telling you everything I know. But you have to understand, nothing is without risk. No one could have predicted how quickly the violence would erupt, nor where it would happen. Nor could they know that Jaime would literally be caught in the crossfire while we were trying to get him to safety. However you feel about me personally, you and I both know that professionally, my team is the top of the field. And I’m telling you we have this. Jaime is in the best hospital. He has a team of surgeons working on him. Let me at least get there first and find out what’s going on before you charge down. Please stay with Maddie. At least for tonight,” she urged, rubbing a hand to her temple, trying to keep her voice level.

  Jack was silent for long, interminable moments. Sam waited him out.

  “My family is everything to me,” he finally said.

  “I know that, Jack,” she answered softly. “I know they mean more to you than anything, and that you’d do anything for them. That’s why I suggested he have security in the first place. I’m sorry this happened, but I will do everything in my power to get him back to you. I promise you this. I promise you.”

  “When do you land?”

  She gave him an estimation, telling him she’d call him intermittently throughout the flight with any salient updates. As she got ready to hang up, she heard him say something. She held the phone back up to her ear.

  “Jack? Are you there?” she asked. “I missed what you said.”

  She heard him release a pent up breath.

  “Tell me where you’ve been,” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet. “I need to believe you right now, and I need to have faith you’re leveling with me. Just tell me where you’ve been.”

  Sam sighed. “I went home. I was at my father’s ranch in Texas.”

  “Why?”

  She closed her eyes, leaning her head back. “I’ve been…” God, why was this so hard to admit? “I’d been feeling…off. I needed to re-center. I needed to come back home.”

  “Why? Why have you been feeling off?” Jack asked, his voice low.

  Sam rubbed her temple. “Look, Jack. I don’t think it’s a good time—”

  “Just tell me, Samantha.”

  “A few reasons,” she sighed. “I’ve just had a lot of triggers hit recently—”

  “By me?”

  “Including you,” Sam amended quietly. “I’ve been operating a certain way for a long time. It’s not right or wrong, Jack. It—it just is. Our relationship, it’s brought some things up. Maybe because you’re thawing me out, I don’t know, but us, combined with the holidays, seeing you together with your family and a couple other things happening—it brought a lot home. And I’ve been having memories. Things I hadn’t thought about in years. It’s been—” she took a deep breath. “It’s been a painful reawakening. I needed to get grounded.” Sam paused, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

  “You could have told me,” he corrected her. “You just chose not to.”

  She didn’t bother to argue, knowing he needed to vent. When he didn’t say anything else for long, tense moments, Sam wondered if he was still there or she’d been talking to dead air. Rather than being agitated by that thought, she felt relieved. If she’d lost him, maybe it was be for the best—

  “Tell me why you’re sorry.”

  Sam blinked her eyes open. They were over the Gulf now. She could see the lights of oil platforms and nearby ships dotting the otherwise black surface of the water.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t—” she stopped. “That I didn’t tell you,” she amended. “I’m not used to this. It’s new to me, this kind of intimacy, the feelings…associated. I thought I’d just go home for a few days, handle things, then reemerge, and it’d be fine. I’d have it sorted and no one would be the wiser,” she admitted quietly. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Jack.”

  “Define sorted?” he asked, ignoring her last statement. She tried to imagine his face, but she couldn’t tell his emotion from his voice.

  “I was trying to figure out how to be all right again.”

  “Samantha—” Jack’s voice gentled. “Tell me why you’re not all right. Tell what you need.”

  “Time,” she breathed. “Jack, I just needed some time, but now I need to remain focused on Jaime right now. Let me do that for you and your family. Work is grounding. You know this about me. Please let me just bring him home to you.”

  Jack fell silent once again. She knew immediately he wouldn’t agree to anything when it came to Jaime. “Call me as soon as you get another update.”

  “I will, Jack. I promise.” Sam paused, listening for his breath on the line, but he had already hung up. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before. But Jack, I love you too…”

  She spoke to dead air, the sun setting on the distant horizon beneath the bank of clouds.

  *

  November—Tuesday night

  Hospital Copa D’Or in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

  W E S L E Y

  “Sammy,” Wes breathed, halting as he saw her. He spilt the coffee he was carrying, he’d stopped so fast. Everything stilled for an indeterminate amount of time as he stared. He’d know her anywhere—the line of her straight nose, the dark wing of her brow, that supple skin over the high slice of her cheekbone. All his knowledge of her slid from the safe shelf of his memories to the forefront of his mind. Memories flooded him as he stared at her profile, his heart squeezing. Sam stood a few yards away, conferring with one of the surgeons, unaware of him. Evan pulled up beside him, holding two coffees.

  It was late. Long after visiting hours. They’d come back to the hospital once they’d heard Jaime made it out of surgery. Wes knew Evan was friends with Jaime and that he worried about him, and Wes knew he would have lain awake replaying the day over and over again anyway. He’d figured they might as well remain close, see what news they could find out if they were going to be sleepless regardless.

  Evan followed Wes’s line of sight. “That’s my boss, Sam Wyatt,” Evan told him. “She just got here. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  Wes nodded mutely, watching Evan walk toward her, handing her the coffee as he came to stand beside her. Sam accepted the cup without looking up, murmuring a thank you as she faced the surgeon. They were speaking in fluid Portuguese. Wes had no idea she spoke the language.

  Sam looked up suddenly, sensing she was being watched, her pitch dark eyes clashing with his. He saw her blink once, drawing back slightly, like she was uncertain of what she was seeing. Then the full weight of her gaze honed in on him. Wes faced her, feeling dazed and pinned by her narrowed eyes. Something palpable circled between them. She turned away to finish speaking with the surgeon, shaking his hand. Wes moved forward, unable to look away from her.

  “God, Sammy, you look…” he began.

  “Wes,” she interrupted. “How are you?”

  Evan’s gaze bounced between them, his brows knitting. “You know each other?” he asked surprised, looking back and forth between them.

  Sam favored Wes with a small, professional smile, her eyes cool. He immediately hated that expression, feeling himself bristling as she distanced herself without moving.

  “In a
manner of speaking.” She replied to Evan’s question causally. “We went to school together.”

  “We were also together for three years,” Wes added, clasping her hand and attempting to pull her toward him. “Let’s not forget about that,” he murmured.

  Sam stiffened her hand, using the tenseness in her forearm to prevent him from drawing her into him. Her casual laugh sounded hollow to him.

  “Wes here was a real lady killer at A&M,” she remarked, glancing at Evan with an insolent little smirk. “You look well, Wes, given the circumstances. Rush tells me you were integral to getting Jaime Roman to the hospital today.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Thank you for that.”

  Wes felt his throat working, anger crawling up his neck as she continued to regard him coolly, her expression neutral, though her eyes flashed with—something. She shifted back slightly, putting Evan between them.

  “I was happy to help,” Wes replied when he really wanted to say, “Why the hell are you acting like we were nothing to each other?” He decided to make a little chink in that armor; he didn’t care who was watching. “Not a day goes by that I haven’t missed you, Sammy,” he told her quietly, ignoring Evan’s brows rising.

  Samantha’s eyes turned obsidian, her expression shifting from cool to hard in a fraction of a second.

  “You want an update on Jaime?” she asked, stepping back again as she shot an aggrieved look toward a transfixed Evan.

  Evan nodded mutely, apparently still floored by their interaction while Wes fumed.

  “He’s still touch-and-go,” she began. “The surgeon said they handled the primary hemorrhaging, but they’re worried about atelectasis—another minor lung collapse.” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Jaime has a postoperative fever, so they’re keeping their eye on infection and septicemia. He’ll be in the ICU for a while. We’ll get another update in a couple of hours,” Sam told him, glancing at her watch. “Take Wes and head back,” she said without so much as looking at him. “We’re gonna need all hands on deck with the news crew now that all hell’s broken loose here with the demonstrations.”

  “Will you keep me and Talon in the loop?” Evan asked. “He kept calling for Maddie.” He shook his head, stopping. “We just want to know he’s alright.”

  “Of course,” she murmured, patting his arm gently, her eyes softening. “You did good today, Rush. You saved his life,” she told him quietly, their exchange marking a certain familiarity that surprised Wes. And made him blind with jealousy as he watched silently.

  “What about you, boss? Is Jack flying in?” Evan asked, his tone concerned.

  Sam shook her head. “Jack’s got Maddie, so I’m trying to keep him in Chicago for now. Carey checked us into the hotel, but he should be around shortly. Just head back with Wes for now, okay? There’s nothing more to do tonight,” she said, giving Evan a reassuring smile before stepping back. She looked at Wes, professionalism shuttering her expression again. “Thank you again for your role today. We appreciate what you did,” she told him, as if he’d done her a solid.

  Wes wanted to grab her and shake her. Then kiss her. Badly.

  “I’ll stay,” Wes responded obstinately, irritated with her order to leave, however politely packaged. “I’ll be up anyway, working through footage on my laptop. I’d prefer to stay until we hear more.” He glanced at Evan. “And I know he would too.”

  Sam regarded him briefly before turning back to Evan, effectively ignoring Wes. “I need to call Jack,” she said simply before striding down the corridor.

  Evan rounded on him as soon as she was out of earshot.

  “You dated Sam?” Evan asked suddenly, his tone accusing.

  “It was more than that,” Wes replied, staring down the corridor. “We were together. I loved her.” He’d imagined seeing her again countless times. Never in his wildest imaginings had he thought it would be in a hospital in Rio de Janeiro where she looked at him like a stranger. He willed her to come back down the corridor—to react to seeing him again after so many years with anything other than casual disregard, as if they’d never meant anything to each other. The warmth and open frankness so inherent in her was gone. She’d cooled, hardened into a beautiful and intricate piece of armor. She was another person now.

  Evan stared at him, perplexed. “Then why the hell didn’t you say anything?” he asked. “Why did you ask those questions about her like you didn’t know her?”

  “Because I lost sight of her when we were young,” Wes admitted quietly. “And I wanted to know her again. I couldn’t believe she’d come back into my life again after all these years.”

  “What the fuck did you do to her? She can barely stand you,” Evan pointed out, crossing his arms with a guarded expression of disapproval.

  Wes closed his eyes, rubbing his hand down his face. “That’s between me and her, but I will tell you this,” he opened his eyes again, looking at Evan. “Not a day’s gone by that I haven’t missed the hell out of her.” He glanced down the hall again. “I used to wish I’d find my way back to her…and it’s happened.” He shook his head. “Shit, I almost can’t believe it.”

  Evan appeared torn, shifting. “Look, man, I don’t know what the hell happened between you two, but during the short time I’ve known you, you seem like a decent guy.” He looked uncomfortable, but he forged on. “Wes, Sam’s not available,” he explained. “That’s why this shit’s so personal to her. Jaime’s the brother of the man she’s with now.”

  Wes blinked. “The guy she’s calling?”

  “Yeah.”

  Wes fell silent for a moment before looking up at Evan. “I don’t care.”

  Now it was Evan’s turn to blink. “What?”

  “I said I don’t care.” Wes replied stubbornly. “That woman’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I don’t believe in coincidence.” Wes felt like everything was crystallizing. He looked at Evan again. “You know what longing is, Evan?”

  Evan watched him for a moment before nodding mutely.

  “I’ve spent more than a dozen years trying to fill a void that wasn’t a void. It was a promise. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. I’m not walking away from her twice.”

  “A promise? You’re not making any sense—”

  Wes laughed, a short, mirthless bark of laughter. “I am. I absolutely am. I don’t give a damn who this guy is. He’s not me.” He looked down the corridor again. “And she’s not his. She’s mine. No matter where we’ve been, no matter what’s gone down, that’s just the truth. Always has been—it’s just clear to me now.”

  *

  November—A few minutes later

  Hospital Copa D’Or in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

  S A M A N T H A

  “Get it together. Get it together,” Sam chanted, pressing a hot palm to her chest, trying slow the sharp beats of her heart as she slumped against the door jamb of the small room she’d shut herself in. Sam glanced around, taking in the small conference table, the soothing pastel walls and bland watercolors, the potted orchid, realizing what it was. This was the place people were told horrible things or given a piece of relief, delivered news or information they shouldn’t receive publicly. This was the confessional that witnessed what medicine could and could not do—and what you had or didn’t have to work with.

  Sam had known that she’d see him again, but goddamn, nothing had prepared her for the full effect of Wesley Elliott or her reaction to laying eyes on him again. She felt like she’d gotten singed by that vivid amber gaze, the air between them crackling with latent tension. He looked…arrestingly good. He’d been a head-turner and a rascal when he was young, but now… Sam swallowed, her throat working against the dryness. His once boyishly good-looking features had seasoned into planes and angles so breathtaking her hand had nearly risen of its own accord to trace them. That riotous mess of golden curls she’d run her fingers through as a girl had darkened to a burnish. No, the pictures in his file hadn’t done him justice—they couldn
’t. The distant memories of her once-lover and childhood flame had nothing on the intensely handsome man who stared at her like he’d been given some kind of reprieve.

  Sam pressed hot palms to her eyes, groaning. Wes Elliott was the ex of every woman’s nightmare—the one you never forgot, never forgave and for damn sure still ached over because everyone had their kryptonite, and that man had been hers since she set eyes on him as a girl. He reminded her with one look why she’d loved him so passionately and with such abandon. Wes had been it. The Guy. Her Guy. And long ago, Sam had naively believed they’d last a lifetime, before she’d learned the hard and inevitable truth that nothing lasted lifetimes, even if you thought you had the power and endurance to manufacture the outcome.

  Sam’s phone rang in her pocket, and she snapped upright, palming it and looking at the screen. Jack. She felt her face heat as if he’d just caught her out at something.

  “Jack,” she answered breathlessly. “I just finished speaking with one of the surgeons. Jaime’s out of surgery.”

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Jack responded, his voice urgent.

  She broke down what she’d found out, answering the questions he peppered her with. “He has a postoperative fever, so he’s still in the ICU. I should get another update from the surgeon in a couple of hours,” she explained.

  “Have you seen him?” Jack asked.

  “Not yet. The risk of infection is still too high. They said the soonest I could see him would be sometime tomorrow. How’s Maddie?” she asked, her voice softening as she asked about Jaime’s daughter.

  “She’s okay,” Jack sighed. “We decided to keep her in the dark for now. Mom and Dad got here a couple hours ago.”

  “Will you stay with them?” she asked.

  Jack remained silent.

  “Are you coming here?” she asked instead.