by Lydia Rowan
She put him down and, blushing, the boy slowly walked over to Damien.
The moment was surreal. The little boy came to a stop in front of him and then stood still, and Damien looked at him, the little tugboats on his pajamas reminding Damien again he had a child.
“What do we say?” Lacey asked, prompting the boy as she crouched behind him.
He looked up, met Damien’s eyes, and extended his hand. “I’m Donovan. Pleased to meet you, Daddy.”
Damien felt like he’d been kicked in the gut, let out an audible sigh. He quickly controlled himself, didn’t want to let the boy see how emotional he was.
He crouched down, bringing himself closer to the child’s height, and then extended his own hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Donovan,” he said.
Then he reached for the boy’s small hand, which was more than swallowed up by his own, and shook it.
When he smiled and began to giggle, Damien thought he might collapse.
Donovan then broke away and went back to his mother.
“Good job! You’re getting to be such a big boy,” she said as she hugged him.
She laid him down in the bed and pulled the covers around his shoulders. Then she looked at him seriously. “Are you going to go to sleep now?”
He nodded, and Lacey leaned forward, showered his small face with kisses.
“Good night, bug.”
“Night, Mommy,” he said. Then, a moment later, “Night, Daddy.”
Damien stayed crouched in the same position as the boy closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. Stayed in the same position after, feeling Lacey watching but unable to do anything, unable to move, to think.
Finally, Lacey reached out as if she would touch him, but he glared at her, finally breaking his gaze from Donovan, and she paused.
The rage that filled him was enough to burn down the heavens.
He stood, walked out of the room as quietly as he could, knowing that Lacey would follow him.
The emotions that roiled through him were so intense that he had no idea what to do with them, how to even begin to process them. So he’d start at the beginning. First with the question of why Lacey had withheld his son from him. Once he had his answer, he’d figure out how to punish her for it.
14
Lacey followed Damien as he walked down the hall they had just emerged from not fifteen minutes ago.
She felt better, relieved at no longer carrying the secret.
She felt much, much, worse because now she had to deal with the consequences of her deception. Deception she knew Damien would never forgive even if she tried to make him understand she had only acted with the best intentions.
Her gaze was targeted at the center of Damien’s back, and she focused on it, watched him move. As she did, she was aware of each and every difference in him, the way his shoulders bunched tight, the way his steps were precise, practically buzzing with the anger she knew welled beneath the surface, waiting to erupt.
He stepped out of the house and continued down the porch, but Lacey paused, looked at Daniel and then Cade, both of their expressions unreadable except to tell her that they were there if she needed them.
She might in the days to come, but she wouldn’t now. She knew Damien wouldn’t harm her, even if he seemed ready to blast off the ground with rage. Lacey walked down the porch quickly, following Damien, who she doubted knew where he was going.
But she kept behind him, keeping pace with his stride, which was difficult when one of his long steps took two of hers, but she refused to be left behind, and refused to cower.
The moon was bright, stars filled the sky, which gave the evening some illumination.
She didn’t need the light to see how angry he was, how hurt. She could feel it, and knew it was her fault.
He continued walking and then abruptly stopped in front of the gate at their fenced pasture.
The horses came trotting over, and Damien reached out to pet one.
Then he dropped his hand, looked at her.
“Why did you keep my son from me?”
His voice was deceptively calm, his question unerringly direct.
There was no waffling, no room for misunderstanding.
Lacey froze, her mind racing, her heart pounding.
“I didn’t want to,” she said.
The words came out strangled, timid, so quiet she barely heard them herself, but when Damien looked at her, his eyes inscrutable, she knew he had.
“You were forced?”
“In a way,” she said, her voice stronger now but pleading.
It didn’t move Damien, not at all.
“Damien,” she said. “Please try to understand.”
He scoffed, the sound disgusted, threaded through with hurt and anger. “All I understand is that you kept my son away from me,” he said, his face twisted with rage.
She did understand the emotion and couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find out she had a child she hadn’t known about. Still, he had to understand her perspective, why she’d made the choice she had.
“Let me explain,” she said.
“You think you can explain?” he threw back.
“I can try,” she said.
Then she looked at him waiting, and he watched her, his expression tight. When he nodded, the motion tight, begrudging, Lacey exhaled the breath she had been holding.
She brushed her hands along her jeans, and as much as she wanted to go to him, touch him, she stayed in place.
“I never intended for this to happen, Damien. Never…” she said, her thoughts turning to the past…
••••
“I’ll keep your spot warm for you,” Damien said, lying back against the rumpled sheets, looking so delectable that Lacey’s throat went dry.
“Too bad I have to go,” she said.
“Who says you have to?” he asked as he pulled her into his lap and stretched up to kiss her.
She kissed him, halfway convinced she should skip work today like she had yesterday. That thought made her break the kiss. “No. I have work to do,” she said, though she made no effort to move from Damien’s arms.
He kissed her again, and as she always did, Lacey gave in to the embrace. She had never loved anyone, never desired anyone as much as she did him. Did so deeply it almost scared her.
She broke the kiss again, looked out into his clear blue eyes, and was pulled under by the depth of feeling she saw there. She had always had a hard time trusting, but when she looked at Damien, she knew that what she felt wasn’t one-sided. He loved her as much as she did him, maybe even more.
“Later,” he said on a rasped whisper.
“Later,” she replied.
She then untangled herself from his embrace and made a nice show of gathering her clothes, making sure Damien got a full view of what she had to offer.
She looked back over her shoulder and saw his appreciative gaze as he lay with his arms stacked behind his head, the defined muscles pulled tight in a casual display of his strength.
“I see what you’re doing, Damien,” she said, watching as his gaze heated, his body laid out in a way that tested her strength to leave. “I’m not falling for it,” she said.
He simply smiled and lay there, looking more enticing than anything she could have dreamed. But duty called.
She turned and didn’t look back as she made her way to the bathroom for a quick shower before she left. She should probably go home, but there was still something about being in Damien’s house, using his shower, knowing she would smell of his soap all day.
As the hot water rushed over her body, she couldn’t help but think of the day when this might be permanent, and she said a thankful prayer for her good fortune at having found him. They had almost nothing in common, but when she’d met him that first time while reporting a human-interest story at the VA, there had been a spark between them, and now it burned out of control.
She loved that man, and if he ever asked, she would s
pend the rest of her life with him.
Boom.
Lacey flinched and then quickly turned the shower off.
Boom.
She flinched again, the boom this time followed by the loud sound of splintering that could only be the front door. Then, she heard what sounded like an army rumbling down the hall.
Still soaking wet, Lacey dressed quickly and threw open the bathroom door. She froze in shock when she saw Damien, his arms twisted behind his back, legs held upright as six men dragged him down the hall.
“Stop! What are you doing!” Lacey screamed, her heart pounding at the unbelievable scene that played out in front of her.
“Go to Lucian,” Damien said.
Then he went quiet and let his body go slack, not resisting or trying to get away. When she locked eyes with him, she saw a complete calm in his gaze that scared her more than anything else.
••••
Two Weeks Later
* * *
“I need to see him,” she said.
As always, the person who sat at the receptionist desk on the base didn’t blink.
Lucian had told her that this was where he was being held, and Lacey had shown up every single day, insisting to be let in.
She hadn’t heard from Damien in weeks, two of them to be specific, and she wouldn’t rest until she saw him.
Which didn’t seem likely to happen.
Her mind raced, and she thought of what she could do.
Maybe she should cause a scene, make him arrest her. That would get her closer than she’d gotten so far. Doing so would be reckless, foolish, but she needed to see Damien more than she needed to take her next breath.
She swept the clipboard that sat on the reception desk to the floor, pleased when it clamored to the ground and rang out as loud as a shot.
The man at the reception desk looked up and she lasered her eyes on him.
“I want to see him. Now,” she said through clenched teeth.
The man behind the desk picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers.
Lacey almost smiled triumphantly, but she didn’t.
She hadn’t seen Damien yet. For all she knew, he was calling some kind of SWAT team to come and throw her in the hole.
She didn’t care. She just needed to see him.
Less than a minute later, she heard the click of one of the mechanical doors and watched as a tall man in his mid- to late fifties walked out.
Admiral Tremaine.
She hadn’t met the man personally, but she recognized him all the same. She also knew he wasn’t a fan of hers.
“Ms. Bowers,” he said. He extended his hand. “Admiral Oliver Tremaine.”
She reached out on instinct, shook his hand, his palm warm, almost sweaty, but his shake strong.
“If you’ll come with me,” he said.
“To see Damien?” she asked, uncaring of who was watching and listening.
“Please, Ms. Bowers. I think I can answer your questions,” the admiral said.
Then he waited, his expression neutral, his stance rigid. What happened next was up to her, he seemed to be saying, but there was no real choice. This was as close as she had gotten to Damien, and despite Lucian’s promise that he was holding up as well as could be expected, if Tremaine was the way that would allow her to see him with her own eyes, she would go with him.
She nodded firmly, and the admiral extended an arm and gestured toward the door that he had just emerged from.
“This way,” he said.
She took two steps, but when the admiral stayed still, she looked back at him questioningly. He nodded and she continued through the locked door that one of the soldiers held open, Tremaine behind her.
She tried to take note of everything that surrounded her, something that wasn’t uncommon, especially given her natural curiosity, but even that was muted. Everything but the urgent need to see him was.
“Just up here,” Tremaine said. “The door on the left.”
Lacy wanted to speed up, but she didn’t and instead kept her steps at the same speed. She felt nervous, and somehow suspected that betraying her anxiousness would not be to her benefit.
Although given that she’d been here every day when visiting hours began and stayed until they ended, insisting over and over she needed to see Damien, she didn’t suppose there was too much more to give away.
Still, she could feel Tremaine’s eyes on her, knew that he was watching her every motion, assessing it. She would keep her wits about her, do what it took to get to Damien.
When she reached the last door, she turned inside and then stopped short.
There was no Damien, but there was a metal table, a bolt for shackles, she presumed, and a one-way mirror.
She stopped in the doorway but then turned to come face-to-face with Tremaine, who stood only inches from her.
“Are you going to bring him in here?” she asked.
Tremaine’s body filled the doorway, and she also saw something flicker behind his eye, but she couldn’t quite identify what.
“If you’ll have a seat, please,” he said.
She narrowed her own eyes. “Are you arresting me?”
Tremaine twisted his lips into an expression that Lacey would call a smile, one she didn’t see in his eyes.
“Of course not,” he said. “I’d just like to have a moment of your time.”
Lacey hesitated, her gut telling her that something was off here. There was a rift between Damien and Tremaine, one that had only gotten stronger when Damien had retired and opened Silver Industries, so Tremaine reaching out to her was odd. But at a loss for what else to do, she sat down.
“I really need to see him,” she said when the admiral came to stand beside her.
She thought he’d take the chair on the opposite side of the metal table, but he didn’t.
“See this first,” he said.
Tremaine nodded, looking at the one-way mirror, and a few seconds later the doorway was filled with another soldier carrying a red folder.
Tremaine retrieved the folder and then came back to Lacey’s side quickly.
In the few seconds he had been gone, she’d managed to take a breath, but when he came back, her chest squeezed with tension.
He laid the folder on the table in front of her.
“Please look at this, Ms. Bowers,” he said.
“What is it?” she said, twisting to look up at Tremaine, who loomed above her.
“Just take a look,” he said.
There was a flintiness in his eye, one that told her he would not relent. Lacey flipped open the folder.
“Oh God,” she said, the words barely able to escape her closing throat.
She looked at the picture, saw the charred body that still seemed to smoke, and thought she would lose the meager contents of her stomach. She exhaled sharply, covered her mouth, but she couldn’t look away.
“Keep going,” the admiral said.
Lacey didn’t want to, more than anything she didn’t want to, but she couldn’t not. So she did keep going, flipping through the pictures one by one, treated to the gruesome sight of even more charred bodies, sometimes recognizing what could only have been a child’s toy.
Her hand dropped and went to her still-flat stomach before she could stop it, and she prayed the admiral thought the movement was because she was going to be sick.
Which was a good possibility, but it wasn’t why she’d reached for her stomach.
She hated to see suffering, anyone’s suffering, but the thought of her child dying in such a horrible way, it took on new meaning now.
“Why are you showing me this?” she said, her voice barely a whisper as she turned to look at Tremaine.
“You need to see it, Ms. Bowers,” he said.
“Why? Where is Damien?” she said.
The admiral stared at her, his expression stony, and an instant later Lacey shook her head, unwilling to accept what his expression told her.
“This is why
you’ve arrested him?” she said. “You’re trying to say he did this?”
“I didn’t arrest him, but he is accused of committing this atrocity. He’s responsible for those children’s deaths, Ms. Bowers,” the admiral said.
Lacey rocketed out of the chair, not caring when her chair clamored to the concrete floor behind her.
The admiral didn’t appear perturbed, and instead stood up straight, stared down at her. “He didn’t,” Lacey said.
“I know it’s upsetting, but I thought you had a right to know,” the admiral said.
“And I’m supposed to believe you? Damien told me that you thought I was holding him back,” she said.
“Yet he continued to see you.”
“So you’re admitting it?” she said.
The admiral shrugged. “Damien had the potential to go wherever he wanted to. Could’ve been the Secretary of Defense one day, maybe president. That potential would have narrowed greatly if he’d let himself get too entangled with someone of your background,” he said.
Lacey flinched, and the admiral waved a hand. “Don’t take it personally, Ms. Bowers. I’m sure you’re a lovely person, but Damien needed someone with connections, a person who could elevate him to higher circles, and marriage is the best way to do that.”
Tremaine shrugged. “Of course, that’s no longer an issue,” he said.
“What’s going to happen to him?” Lacey asked, the admiral’s words not affecting her as she thought about Damien.
He shrugged again. “Who knows? He’ll be tried. Convicted. Might be put to death.”
“Oh my God! Put to death…but he didn’t do anything,” she said.
“Are you sure about that?”
“He couldn’t. He wouldn’t…” Lacey said, unable to believe that.
“Things happen during war, Ms. Bowers,” the admiral said, his eyes dropping into little slits as he studied her. “Are you saying nothing happened? You didn’t see any changes in him?”
Lacey tried to ignore his voice, but her mind raced anyway, back to two springs before, when Damien had been different. Not overly so, but there had been changes, some withdrawal, some distance. It had cleared up, though, and Lacey had just thought it was nothing, a little blip. She hadn’t even thought of that until now.