RETURN TO ME

by Christy Reece

  Now, here she sat, waiting and wondering if her teenaged perv would come back.

  “You want another soda?”

  Samara looked up at her sweet-faced, chubby waitress. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  “Look hon, I’m not one to get involved in other people’s business, but I just thought you might want to know that your young man went out the back door.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” She waddled away.

  Samara looked toward the plainclothes cops at the next table. “I guess that’s that.”

  Linda Knowles, one of the officers, walked over to her table and sat down. “Did you think that was strange?”

  “Very. What about you?”

  “Yeah. Think he made us?”

  “I don’t know. I was so stunned that he turned out to be a kid.”

  “Yeah, well, that is unusual, but all perverts were kids at one time.”

  Shrugging off her disquiet that something just wasn’t right, she nodded. “Guess so.”

  “We’re out of here, then. Want us to walk you to your car?”

  “No, that’s okay. Think I’ll stay a little longer.”

  Her sharp eyes took one more look around the crowded restaurant. “Okay, see you next Wednesday.”

  Samara continued to sit at her table, sipping her drink and trying to figure out where they’d gone wrong. First the surprise that the guy was actually a teenager and then the fact that he ran away within seconds of meeting with her.

  “Hey Samara, want me to drive you home?”

  Kyle Macklin leaned over her. Without meaning to, she immediately backed away. She bit her lip at his grimace. He’d been asking her out for months and she’d run out of excuses. What woman wouldn’t want to go out with a tall, gorgeous blond with the smile of an angel and the glint of devil in his green eyes? She could answer that fairly easily. A woman who was so in love with another man she couldn’t even begin to think of dating anyone else.

  Smiling an apology, she stood. “Thanks. I have my car.”

  “I’ll walk you out then.”

  Dodging waiters and running preschoolers, they escaped from the busy restaurant. He was going to ask her out again, she knew he was. Her rational mind told her she should go out with him. Nothing was ever going to happen between her and Noah. Her heart said something different. As long as she had breath, she had hope.

  The night, dark and clear, held a hint of the rain they’d had earlier. The stars were scarce and the moon cast only a small halo over the parking lot. She’d parked in a well-lit area and immediately headed to her car, hoping she was wrong and Kyle didn’t plan to ask for another date.

  Just as she flipped the button to unlock the door, he asked, “How about a movie Saturday night?”

  She blew out a long, silent sigh as she turned to look up at him. Gosh, she was so bad at this. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I …” She heard a thud. Breath caught in her throat at the blank look that came over Kyle’s face. He fell at her feet.

  “Hello, Pretty Girl.”

  It took barely a second to register the greasy smile of the man in front of her and to make the correct conclusion. This was the real creep she’d been talking with online. The boy had been a decoy, sent by him to check her out.

  Holding her hands to her side, she took an easy, calming breath. “Ruff-ryder, I presume?”

  “Yeah. And you’re Pretty Girl … right?”

  “Among other names. Why did you send that kid in?”

  “Just a little insurance that this wasn’t a setup. Good thing I sent him in, wasn’t it?”

  Not taking her eyes off the man in front of her, Samara relied on her peripheral vision to tell her no one was around. Great, her ever-present watchdog decided for the very first time to take the night off. Just her luck.

  A groan from Kyle told her he was waking up, but he wouldn’t be much help. She was on her own.

  A hand grabbed her arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  At the touch of his hand, panic disappeared and training kicked in. Twisting away, she pivoted to her left and brought up her right arm, swinging it toward his face. He jumped back, but not before she got in a good blow to his nose.

  “Shit!” Holding his nose with one hand, he reached out again.

  Samara was ready for him, blocked his arm, then brought her knee up to his groin. His hands went to protect himself, but her knee got there first, jamming hard. He squealed, grabbed his balls with one hand, and lashed out at her with the other. Once again she blocked him. Whirling around, she swept her leg around. The side of her foot caught his chin in a solid hit so hard she heard his teeth clack.

  A stunned, blank look replaced the fury as he fell backward against her car and then slid to the ground. Pulling her cellphone from her pocket, she pressed 911. Keeping her eyes on the man, she squatted down and checked Kyle’s pulse. Slow and steady. Relaying her request for help, she kept her ear to the phone as her eyes searched for any other threats.

  Gravel crunched behind her. Samara jumped to her feet and whirled toward the sound.

  Noah’s blond watchdog held up his hands. A grin lifted his stern mouth as his eyes gleamed with admiration. “Whoa. Hold on, little warrior. Thought I’d just hog-tie your big bad pervert until the cops get here. Okay with you?”

  Adrenaline and fear bouncing like pinballs inside her, Samara jerked a quick nod. She watched as the big man pulled plastic ties from his pocket and looped them around the unconscious man’s hands and ankles.

  When he finished, he grinned up at her. “You did good.”

  A feeling, unlike anything she’d ever known, came over her. She had done good. Before she could examine this amazing fact, blue lights flashed into the parking lot.

  She turned toward her helper. “I think you should go home now.” Would he understand her double meaning?

  The man studied her for several seconds. Samara got the idea he was searching for something. Then he nodded as his mouth kicked up in another grin. “You know, I think I can.” With those words, he backed away and disappeared into the night.

  Samara stooped down to Kyle again as the police made their way toward her.

  Her eyes roamed over him. “Are you okay?”

  Sitting up, he rubbed the back of his head. “What happened?”

  “You got hit in the head with something.” Moving behind him, she touched his hair gently. “Let me see if the skin’s broken.”

  “Samara.”

  She looked up to see Officer Linda Knowles running toward her. Grinning, she stood and pointed to the hog-tied, now conscious man struggling a few feet from her. “Look what I caught.”

  Noah stood at the window of his office, looking out at the familiar bright lights of his adopted home. His mother had loved Paris and through her, he’d learned to love the sprawling, exotic city. Making his home here had been his gift to her, the only thing left he could do to honor her.

  While in prison, he’d developed a strategy. First, he would find his mother and do what he could to help her. Then, if Rebecca would let him, he would do his damnedest to make up for what had been done to her. He’d failed at both. It had taken months to track his mother down and when he did, he found himself visiting a cemetery in Louisiana. She’d died two years before, while he was still in prison. Records he’d stolen from the hospital had showed she’d died of AIDS. His father’s final gift to her. She’d been an indigent and died alone. Days passed before Milo could get a word out of him. Finally, having no other choice, Noah had accepted and moved on.

  When he found Rebecca, she’d allowed him to help a little, but not like he’d wanted … needed. He realized that more than anything, she wanted to forget and he was bringing it all back to her. He still saw her from time to time, but it was never comfortable and never would be.

  Coming to Paris, seeing the sights his mother had talked about, experiencing the beauty that had only existed in his mind, through her words, he’d
found a completeness he’d never experienced anywhere else. This was home.

  So why now did he feel as though his home had become his refuge, prison, and hiding place? Noah knew the answer but refused to contemplate the solution. Every morning he woke, aching for one woman, and every night he slept in a lonely bed, wanting that body in his arms. He’d told himself it would pass. Several months had gone by since he’d seen Samara. At some point, the obsession had to end.

  Twisting his wrist, he checked the time again. Ethan was late. Each day, he received a report on Samara. The information was usually just a brief account … giving him only the information he felt he had the right to know. Was she safe for another day?

  Sometimes he literally bit his tongue to keep from asking more. Ethan would tell him, but if that happened, he would have become her stalker, not her protector. A fine line he dare not cross.

  He couldn’t and wouldn’t stop her from what she felt she had to do, but he could at least keep her safe.

  Checking his watch again, dread filled him. Where was Ethan? Just as he grabbed his cellphone to make the call, it rang. Without looking at the readout, he answered with a growl, “It’s about damn time.”

  “Noah?”

  Adrenaline rushed and fear kicked like a mule. “Mara … what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to talk to you.”

  Knowing he shouldn’t, knowing it would only increase the useless, unnecessary ache, Noah nevertheless slumped into his chair to listen to the voice he dreamed about nightly.

  Sounding unusually tentative, she said, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “No, I was just waiting for a call. … I’d much rather talk to you, though.”

  A sound came through the phone … a sigh blended with a sob. Noah straightened in his chair. “What happened?”

  “Have you talked to your watchdog today?”

  There was no point in denying Ethan’s existence. “No, he hasn’t called me yet.”

  “I sent him home.”

  “He answers to me, not you.”

  “It’s time to let me go.”

  “I don’t have you, Mara. But I do want to make sure you stay safe.”

  “I’m not your responsibility.”

  “Yes you are, if I hadn’t involved you—”

  “Don’t start that again. You’re not responsible for me getting involved in this line of work. It was my decision, my choice.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. If I hadn’t got you involved with Mitchell, you never would’ve—”

  “You may be right about that. … I don’t know. What I do know is that this is my choice.”

  “And I need to make sure you’re safe.”

  “No, you need to let me live my life.” Her voice turned shaky and thin. “If I can’t have what I truly want from you, then at least give me this.”

  Unable to sit still, Noah stood at the window again. She was asking him to let go of the last connection he had with her. Keeping her safe had always been his number-one goal, but an important secondary one was that he still had a connection with her, no matter how small.

  “Has Ethan bothered you? Interfered in your life?”

  “No. I didn’t even know that was his name. That’s not the point. I don’t need his protection or yours. I took down a very bad man last night, all by myself.”

  “Where was Ethan?”

  “He was there … in the background. And he looked pretty damned impressed.”

  “You shouldn’t have—”

  “The point is, I did. I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry or feel responsible any longer.”

  “Mara, I know you feel you can, but I’ve seen what can happen. I’m not willing to risk your life just because you’ve taken some self-defense classes. I know you’re a strong, capable woman, but these are evil men who could very well kill you. I’m not willing to take that risk.”

  “It’s not your choice. … It’s mine.” The hard swallow that followed told him she was holding back tears with great effort. “I love you. I always will, but it’s time to let me live my life and you live yours.”

  The line went dead.

  Dammit, she’d hung up on him. The phone rang again. This time he checked the readout. Ethan. Holding his rage by a thin thread, he answered, “Where the hell are you?”

  “About five hours away from you.”

  “Why the hell aren’t you watching her?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you.” The line went dead again.

  He had the urge to throw the phone through the window and shout like a four-year-old. His rigid control strained, Noah reined himself in. When Ethan arrived, he would get a full explanation of why Samara was now alone, unprotected. He’d damn well better have a good one.

  nineteen

  Ethan pressed his fingertips against the security screen. A door slid open, allowing him entrance into the elevator. At this time of night, Noah would be the only one in the building. Hell, as far as he knew, Noah lived here. The man had no life other than LCR. The knowledge that he and Noah had a lot in common brought him no comfort.

  The elevator doors slid open and the big man himself stood at the entrance of his office. Fury flashed in his coal-black eyes. The cool, implacable man he’d known for years had been replaced with a man with feelings … though Ethan figured Noah would deny those feelings until he died or was forced to acknowledge them. He’d soon find out.

  “You want to tell me why the hell you’re here instead of doing your job?”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Don’t push it, Ethan.”

  Ethan held back a grin that tickled at his mouth. A good way to get a fist down his throat. Not that he wasn’t up for a good fight. God knew the last few weeks had been boring. Maybe later. First, he had a few things to tell Noah about his ladylove.

  Sauntering past Noah, he sprawled out on the sofa and waited.

  “I spoke with Samara,” Noah said.

  Now that was a surprise. “What’d she say?”

  “She told me she sent you home.”

  “That’s true.”

  “That’s not her place. It’s mine. You shouldn’t have left her. She said she had some trouble last night.”

  “Did she tell you that she took down a man twice her size?”

  “Dammit, that’s why you were there … so she didn’t have to do that. She’s not capable—”

  Ethan stood and pulled an envelope from the inside of his jacket. “Gotta disagree with you there.” Leaning forward, he threw some photos on the desk. “Take a look at her moves, Noah. The woman can definitely defend herself.”

  Noah barely glanced at them before he turned back to Ethan. “She got lucky.”

  “No. She’s strong. She got herself trained. She’d make a damn good operative.”

  Turning his back to Ethan, he growled, “I’m not going to argue with you. Go back and do your job.”

  “No.”

  When Noah whirled back around, Ethan knew that fight might be coming sooner than he expected.

  “What?”

  “I said no. The woman doesn’t need my protection.”

  “That’s not for you to decide.”

  “Noah, when I hired on with LCR, you told me my number-one priority was rescuing victims. This woman is no victim and sure as hell doesn’t need rescuing.”

  Noah’s next words surprised him.

  “I read the file on the Blackburn case.”

  Ah yes, the op he’d handled two weeks after getting his best friend killed. It had worked out fine, but not to LCR’s exacting standards. Trust Noah to come at him from a different direction. “It turned messy … still got the job done.”

  “You almost got yourself killed, too.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’ve already been to the funeral of one of my operatives this year. I don’t want to go to another.”

  “Like I said … I got the job done.”

  “You tru
ly don’t care if you die, do you, Ethan?”

  Since Ethan had no answer for that, he didn’t bother. He did what he had to do. If he took a bullet someday, big fucking deal.

  Noah glared at the one man he probably had more in common with than any other person he knew. Ethan Bishop had experienced hell on earth. Their experiences in prison made them brothers of a sort. They’d survived unspeakable brutality.

  Like Noah, Ethan carried a soul riddled with guilt and self-condemnation. In some respects, it had made him one of LCR’s best operatives. Most people took one look at Ethan Bishop and quickly changed to his way of thinking. Few people could stand up to that cold, hard stare. But Ethan’s guilt also had a negative, self-destructive impact. He had a death wish. No, he wouldn’t admit it. For a man of Ethan’s Bishop’s hardened heart, admitting weakness was synonymous with giving up. Something Bishop would never do.

  He’d hoped giving Ethan the job of protecting Samara would give him some thinking time. He should have known the lack of action would be more than he could handle. Not putting his life on the line at least once a week was probably tantamount to a slow death for Ethan.

  It didn’t, however, negate the fact that Ethan had to be reeled in. The last thing LCR needed was a loose cannon. Too many lives were at risk.

  “You want to get killed, do it on your own time. Not LCR’s.”

  Bishop lifted a mountainous shoulder in a careless shrug. “I said I got the job done.”

  “You almost blew the entire operation. Not only did you almost get killed, you took out three men who could possibly have given us information on Blackburn’s whereabouts.”

  “They wouldn’t have talked.”

  “That wasn’t your decision to make. Your job is to rescue. An added benefit is to capture as many people as you can and get information from them. Killing is and always should be a last resort.”

  “They needed killing. What’s your gripe?”