Stay...

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  “I’m here. Kim’s not.”

  She turned over, crying inside at the stark expression in his eyes. How much this Kim must have meant to him. “Were you…partners for a long time?”

  His chest slowly lifted. “Couple years.”

  She could take this, she reminded herself roughly. If Jefferson was brave enough to tell her the secrets he was obviously punishing himself for, then she had to be brave enough to listen. “You were close.”

  “We were friends,” he admitted. “He shouldn’t have died.”

  “He?”

  He must have read her surprise. “Kim Lee. My partner. He left a young wife and son.”

  “Oh, Jefferson,” she laid her palm on his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  He turned away, swinging his legs off the bed. “If I’d done my job better, it wouldn’t have happened.”

  Emily sat up, too, aching to press herself against his stiff back. “What, um, happened to the person you went there for?”

  “He returned to his country and is back in control of the local government. We got him to our contact before everything blew up in our faces.”

  The whole idea of sneaking in and out of countries was alien to everything Emily knew. She scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to think with some measure of coherence. “Why weren’t you able to leave with him?”

  “They were right on our butts. We had to get him out of the country, so Kim and I hung behind, stopping them from getting to the pick-up point before our guys had a chance to get off the ground.” Jefferson only had to close his eyes to hear the gunfire; the whop-whop of the chopper’s blades over their heads as he and Kim fought like fury to give their contact enough time to dart in and back out again, his cargo safely stowed inside.

  He pressed the heels of his palms against his closed eyes, blocking out the vivid memory. “Kim should’ve been on that chopper.”

  Emily scooted closer to him. “Would you ever have left your partner behind?”

  “No.”

  “Then why expect him to have behaved any differently from you?”

  At least a half dozen people had told him that. His own logic told him that. But between his logic and his emotions, the idea continually short-circuited.

  Her light touch drifted over his shoulder. “Is that when you got shot?”

  “No.” Now that he’d begun telling the sordid tale, he wanted to be finished with it. He wanted it out. Done with. Over. “We were overtaken,” he continued. “I swear, they must have had three dozen men out there.” At the time it had seemed like a hundred. But even against those odds, they’d fought. Until one of them got close enough to Jefferson to crush his assault rifle into Jefferson’s hip. He hadn’t been able to walk, but they’d dragged him on the ground back to their unit. Kim had been knocked unconscious and two soldiers had hauled him back by his feet.

  He touched the scar on his jaw. “They kept us pretty subdued.” He saw no reason to describe the beatings. Or the mental games their captors had delighted in playing. When he’d been conscious enough to do so, he’d tracked the days the best he could by scratching marks on the wall beside his filthy mattress. “Luckily they never resorted to pumping us full of drugs. They kept Kim and me separated for a couple months.”

  There wasn’t a word on earth adequate to describe Emily’s horror. She contented herself with threading her fingers through his.

  “They were waiting for another team to try and get us. Kim and I knew, though, that there wouldn’t be any team.”

  “But why not? Surely they’d try—”

  Jefferson shook his head. “Too risky. Sending us in in the first place was as much of a move as they’d make. They wouldn’t want to draw the attention that two strikes might’ve received.”

  “Our government is supposed to protect its citizens! Why wouldn’t they—”

  He sighed faintly, “I’m not with the government, Emily. Hollins-Winword Industries is a private-sector agency. They take on some of the challenges that the government deems too risky, no matter how desirable.” He stood up and went to the window. “At a certain level, we have support of the armed services, but basically we’re on our own. It’s the rules of the game.” His words were short. Matter-of-fact.

  “Some game,” she murmured, her thoughts whirling. “And you’ve been doing this all along? How on earth did you ever get into this? Does anyone else know? Squire or Sawyer, even?”

  Jefferson thought of his surprise at Sawyer’s presence at the private medical facility in Connecticut. He snorted. “Sawyer knows, but not because I told him.” He tugged aside the curtain and looked out at the red glow of the sun just coming over the horizon. “I just sort of fell into it. I had a knack with languages. Knew about agriculture. About weaponry.”

  He vaguely remembered the way he’d felt when he’d been fresh and green and revoltingly new to the game. “At first, it was an adventure. Exciting. Seeing the world, you know. My specialty was fitting into the local scene.” He heard Emily’s surprised grunt. “Strange, I know. But—” he shrugged “—I’d go in. Set up the strike. Get out. The pay was good.” It wasn’t until later that he’d appreciated the work for its small measures of justice in an all-too-unjust world. And not until much later that he’d wondered at the futility of it all.

  “All the things I’ve said I’ve done, I’ve done.” He wanted her to know that it hadn’t all been a lie. “I’ve worked on bridge crews. I’ve worked on tankers. I’ve taught farming techniques to indigenous people in a dozen different countries. But Hollins-Winword has been behind all of it. Placing us strategically with the locals. So we were living among them. Biding our time until it was necessary to do the job we were ultimately sent there to accomplish.”

  “This is like something out of a fiction novel,” Emily stared at him. She slowly ran her hands through her hair. She didn’t know what she’d expected to hear, but it certainly hadn’t been this. She wondered if she was really up to hearing the rest. “So, how did you finally escape?”

  He scratched the corner of his eye. “After a while, our guards eased up. They probably figured that no one was coming to get us. It cost manpower to keep Kim and me separated—manpower that they could put to better use elsewhere. So they ended up sticking us in the same cell. It took another several weeks before we had the chance to make a break.”

  Emily pressed her palm to her pounding heart. “And then?”

  “Bad luck. We had the same guard every night. And every night for weeks, this guy would squirrel away an hour or so to visit his woman in the village. It was the only time of the day when they didn’t have us under a gun. The cell had a dirt floor. Over the weeks, we dug beneath the wall, hiding the spot under the bare mattress. We just needed to get outside the village. We’d buried an emergency pack before we’d gone inside. Once we got to it, we’d have been able to notify our contact and arrange a pickup.

  “The night we crawled out, the guard came back early. That guy, as soon as he saw the empty cell, knew his ass was in a sling. Before Kim knew what hit him, the guard stabbed him. Kim hadn’t even finished crawling through the hole under the wall.”

  Emily didn’t even try to stop the tears that sprung to her eyes. “And you?”

  “It was him or me, Em. So far, everything had been quiet. I didn’t know if Kim was alive or not, and I sure as hell didn’t want the guard raising anyone else.” He couldn’t bear to see the revulsion in her eyes, so he kept looking out the window, his voice neutral as he mechanically relayed the details. “I broke his neck, took his keys and locked him in our cell. I managed to get Kim on my back and hightailed it out of there. I found the pack. Dug it up. It was right where we’d left it. Less than a mile from us the entire time we’d been held. A helicopter arrived within minutes.

  “Before it arrived, though, our escape had been noticed. It wasn’t hard for the guards to track us. Hell, we’d left a bloody trail leading straight to us. The chopper couldn’t even land—just sent down a rope whi
le it hovered. I harnessed Kim and grabbed hold. I was shot before we got twenty feet off the ground.”

  It was far too easy envisioning Jefferson, dangling from the end of a rope. It was probably a miracle that he’d not fallen when he’d been struck. She pressed her lips together. “And Kim?”

  Jefferson was silent for a long, long minute. “He’d lost too much blood. He died before we even got him into the chopper.”

  Emily held back a fresh spurt of tears. “His poor family.” She untangled herself from the sheet and went over to him. “No wonder you have nightmares,” she murmured, slipping between his tense body and the window. He wouldn’t even look at her. He just kept staring out the window. “What about you? You’d been shot.”

  “The pilot landed us on a naval carrier. They kept me stabilized. Eventually I ended up in Germany for a few surgeries.”

  “How few?”

  “Hip replacement. Some bones that had to be broken and reset. There’s a pin in my knee.”

  She seriously considered bolting for the bathroom before it was too late. “We could have lost you and never have known why.”

  His lips twisted. “Pretty revolting tale, eh?”

  “It’s horrifying. And tragic. But it’s over now.” She watched the muscle tick in his jaw. “Isn’t it? You’re not still working for that Hollins-Whateverworth, are you?”

  “Winword,” he supplied tonelessly. “I’m on disability.”

  “Do you plan to go back?”

  “Nope.”

  Thank God! “What do you plan to do then?”

  “Dunno.”

  She sucked in an unsteady breath. “As long as it doesn’t take you away from me, I don’t care what it is. Jefferson,” she said as her voice broke. “You were all alone, weren’t you.” Standing on tiptoe, she hugged him to her. If ever there was a man who needed hugging, Jefferson was that man.

  Jefferson grabbed her arms and held her from him, giving her a small shake. “Don’t you get it? I killed a man. Two, if you count that bastard guard.” More, if you counted other casualties from his missions. She still was looking at him with those soft brown eyes. “I was responsible,” he growled. “My partner died because of me. His little boy is growing up without his daddy. Because of me.”

  “Did Kim go on that—that mission unwillingly?”

  “No,” he growled.

  “Then he had to have known the risks involved.” She shook her head. “It’s terribly sad about his wife and son. No, Jefferson, don’t turn away from me!” She scrabbled for his arm. “You didn’t kill Kim. The guard who stabbed him did.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I think I do. You take your responsibilities so seriously. It’s not a crime to share the burden once in a while. Good heavens, you could have been killed yourself!”

  “That’s just it. It should have been me. I was the lead man. I should have made sure the mission didn’t fail. Kim had every reason to come back alive.”

  “And you didn’t?”

  Anger curled through him. Why couldn’t she understand? “He had a family.”

  “So do you.”

  “He had a son,” he bit out.

  Her hand touched her stomach. “Perhaps you’ll have a son, too.”

  The words were like a blow. It would be every undeserving wish fulfilled. “You wouldn’t want to bring a child into the world with a father like me.”

  She swiped a tear from her cheek. “You’re not going to convince me to blame you for your partner’s death. It seems to me that you’ve cornered the market of laying blame on Jefferson Clay.” Her chin tilted defiantly. “And why wouldn’t I want a father like you for my children? You’re the most decent, honorable man I know.”

  “I broke a man’s neck with my bare hands.” He held his hands up. “He wasn’t the first,” he added stiffly.

  She didn’t even hesitate. “And you watched your partner die because of the wound that guard inflicted. You’re alive, Jefferson. After all you’ve told me, I consider that a very great blessing.”

  The back of his eyes burned. “Why?”

  “Because I love you,” she said simply.

  “Even after what I’ve said?” Was that his voice? Hoarse. Shaking.

  “Particularly after what you’ve said. You didn’t have to tell me all this, Jefferson. But you did.”

  “You weren’t supposed to—”

  “What? You thought you’d scare me off, perhaps? Jefferson,” she said as she shook her head, smiling gently, even while a tear trailed down her cheek, “when are you going to learn? I love you. You. Too serious. Too sensitive. And far too handsome for my peace of mind.”

  He ground his teeth together. His head shook back and forth, denying.

  “It’s all right,” she whispered, gliding to him and pulling his head to her shoulder. Such a strong man. And how he struggled with his emotions. She held his carved face between her hands and kissed his lips. “It’s all right now,” she soothed. She kissed the scar on his jaw. And when the tear slipped from his shadowed eyes, she kissed that away, too. “Come back to bed.”

  He let her lead him to the tumbled bed. He let her pull off the snug boots. He even let her unbutton his wrinkled shirt and toss it onto the floor. When her fingers went to the buckle at his waist, however, he stopped her. “This is still Squire’s house.”

  “Yes. It is,” she agreed. “But this is Emily’s bed,” she added. “It was brought from my parents’ home. And I want to share my bed with the man I love. I need to put my arms around him. And hold him. And be held by him in return.”

  She didn’t reach for his buckle again. Just stood before him, waiting quietly for him to decide. And really, what decision was there? To walk away from her was to kill off a portion of himself.

  Jefferson stood up, and the buckle jingled faintly as he unfastened it. Watching her closely, he popped loose first one button, then the next. “It’ll be morning soon,” he murmured.

  “A new day.”

  “Squire is coming home today.” He’d had years to accept his father’s opinion. For her, she’d had only a few hours. “He won’t like this. Are you prepared for that?”

  In answer, she took his loose jeans in her hands and pulled them down his hips. “He’s gonna have to learn to like it,” she said decisively.

  He automatically kicked the jeans from his feet and nearly swallowed his tongue when she whipped the nightshirt over her head and tossed it aside.

  “He’s been yammering about grandchildren for several years now. Maybe we should give him what he wants,” she said.

  It was inconceivable that she still felt that way. Even knowing the truth about him. A twinge worried at his conscience. He still hadn’t told her about the fragment in his back.

  “You are alive. And loved more than you could ever dream.” She took his hand in hers and pressed his palm to her abdomen.

  He saw the tears gleaming in her eyes. He wanted to give her her every desire. He wanted to give her the world. He’d given her his heart long ago, and she’d never even known it. But could he give her a future? Was it crazy of him to even consider it?

  “Give me your child, Jefferson.”

  “Crazy,” he murmured. But he folded her into his arms and gently kissed her lips.

  Emily could have cried at the sweetness of his kiss. He couldn’t have told her more clearly that he loved her if he’d actually said the words. The ground shifted beneath her feet and she weakly sank down to the mattress.

  He followed her down, hauling her in one smooth motion across the full-size bed until she lay diagonally across it. He set about seducing her with gentleness. With unspoken love. In minutes she was arching against him, twining her legs in his, impatient for him.

  “Slow down,” he soothed, kissing the curve of her neck.

  “I need you,” she moaned against shoulder. “Now.”

  “Now?” His fingernails grazed the outside of her thighs. Suddenly he moved, sliding deep inside he
r. “Like this?”

  She whimpered, her hips pressing into his. “Yes.”

  He lifted his head. Wanting, needing to see her face. Slowly he slid back, almost withdrawing. The sound from her throat was pure yearning.

  He drove himself into her. Her eyes popped open, and she gasped. Her breath grew short and choppy. “Like this?”

  Her fingernails dug into his hips. “Yes.”

  He repeated the motion. Again. And again. Until burning color rode her cheekbones and her breath was a near sob. Eyes narrowed, he focused on the woman beneath him. He absorbed her. Her whole body was trembling. And he breathed her.

  She struggled to lift her head. To kiss his lips. She did, but the uncontrollable sensations tightening within were overwhelming her. Her eyes flickered and he followed her gaze to that point where they joined. He looked up, just in time to see the tip of her tongue moisten her lip.

  It was too much for him.

  Her faith in him, undeserved though it was. Her compassion. Her goodness. It washed over him. As surely and insistently as his climax built. His forehead brushed her shoulder and he couldn’t hold back a groan.

  Suddenly, he felt clumsy. Uncontrolled. She deserved so much more than he could give her. But, amazing at it was, he was the one she wanted. Driven, he arched against her over and over.

  “I love you,” had she said it again? Or was the knowledge reverberating in his imagination?

  Her hand touched his face, and he looked into her beautiful eyes. And for the first time in his life, he cried out as he gave his very soul to the woman he loved.

  Jefferson slumped against her, and Emily held him close, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes to roll into her hair. Her breath was still ragged, but it was nothing compared to the harsh sound of Jefferson’s. His arms slipped beneath her back, holding her in an achingly tight embrace. And she held him in her arms.

  While a slow stream of tears trickled down his cheeks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sawyer and Daniel had driven into town to bring Squire home. Emily was on the front porch, a basket of freshly picked peas from Maggie’s garden sitting beside her. She snapped them and dropped the sweet peas into the bowl on her lap. The pile of discarded pods was growing faster than the pile of shelled peas, though, since almost half of them ended up in her mouth rather than the bowl.