Cindy Gerard - [Bodyguards 06]

by Into the Dark

  Amy smiled, nodded. “It was important,” she said, holding Jones’ dark gaze. “What we did. What you helped me do.”

  “Yeah. It was important. And for the record, you can guard my back anytime, too.”

  She went up on her toes, flung her arms around his neck. Jones, Dallas was amused to see, didn’t quite know what to do about it.

  He hesitated, then patted her back…like he thought he might break her or something.

  “And I do thank you,” she whispered in his ear. “Stay safe, okay?”

  Jones nodded, set her away. Then turned his hard gaze on Jenna.

  This ought to be interesting, Dallas thought as Amy walked to his side and slipped her arm around his waist.

  “McMillan,” Jones said, his voice as stiff as his shoulders.

  “Jones,” Jenna said, matching his tone and bearing.

  And then she kissed him. Moved right in, slapped her palms around his ears, pulled his head down and laid one on him.

  Dallas didn’t know whether to laugh or get the hell out of the way. There was bound to be fallout.

  But there wasn’t.

  Jenna let him go, licked her lips and stood back. Then she seemed to consider.

  “So-so,” she said with a hand wobble, turned and with a whispered good-bye to Amy, headed for the terminal.

  And damned if Jones didn’t just stand there, a half-assed grin on his face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Offices of E.D.E.N. Securities, Inc., early the next morning

  Next time you bound off to parts unknown trying to fulfill a death wish, you’d better, by God, take us with you.” Ethan hid his concern behind a dark scowl.

  Dallas had known he’d get plenty of flack from his brothers and sister. So he decided to get it over with straight off. They’d flown through the night, landed at West Palm International around seven A.M.

  He’d been whipped—Amy too—but they’d both agreed to face the music before they crashed.

  He hadn’t been wrong either. He’d been getting the third degree complete with liberal doses of grief ever since he’d hobbled into the office on his crutches an hour ago.

  “You must be slowing down,” Nolan said with a grunt and a nod toward the crutches. “Age’ll do that.”

  “Right. Kick a man when he’s down,” Dallas grumbled around a yawn. “Go ahead. I’ve still got one good leg. See what kind of damage you can do.”

  “They’re always like this,” Eve said in aside to Amy, who was listening to the brothers whale on each other. “You get used to it after a while. What you don’t get used to is seeing them banged up. Mom’s gonna have a cow.”

  “Mom doesn’t need to know,” Dallas warned with a sharp look in Eve’s direction.

  Eve snorted. “Yeah. She probably won’t even notice the crutches.”

  “I sprained my ankle, okay? Stepped in a hole.”

  Eve rolled her eyes. “It’s your story, you can tell it any way you want to.”

  It was all a ruse, of course. The gentle jabs, the trash talk. All a cover. There had been huge relief in their eyes when Dallas had walked into the office with Amy. And there had been quiet, stunned concern when Dallas had told them what had happened in Argentina.

  “Look, I’d love to hang around and take more of this abuse,” Dallas said, “but I need some shut-eye. So does Amy.”

  “You need to check in with the folks,” Eve reminded him.

  “I will. Later. Give ’em a call for me, okay? Let them know their baby boy is back and just fine.”

  “Hey—I’m the baby, old man, and don’t you forget it.” Nolan pointed his bottle of root beer at Dallas for emphasis. “I get a lot of miles off that coveted position and I’m not giving it up. Not even to a cripple.”

  “Good-bye,” Dallas said, grinning over his brother’s smart-ass sense of humor. “I’m outta here.”

  It was the clamp of a hand on his shoulder from Nolan, the hug—longer than necessary—from Eve, and the long, thoughtful look from Ethan that told the real tale.

  They’d been worried. They were still worried. And they were here. Whenever he needed them. Whatever he needed them for.

  He sensed the same familial attitude toward Amy as they each hugged her in turn and said quiet good-byes. Because that’s just the way they were. Open. Giving. Accepting.

  “You’re so lucky,” Amy said as they walked outside, the keys to Ethan’s SUV in Dallas’ hand. “So lucky to have them.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

  Amy woke up to soft light and silence.

  She was alone in Dallas’ bed. The sheets where he’d slept beside her were cool.

  She laid there for long moments. Let the cobwebs clear. Appreciated the clean sheets and sense of safety before turning her head to glance at the clock on his night stand.

  5:38. She thought. Calculated. They’d left the E.D.E.N. offices around nine this morning. Arrived at Dallas’ townhouse by ten. And they’d both crashed. That meant she’d slept almost eight hours. The first solid eight hours of sleep she’d had in longer than she could remember.

  Yawning, rubbing sleep from her eyes, she wandered out of the bedroom.

  “Hey,” Dallas said from the kitchen. He was dressed in a body-hugging green t-shirt and tan cargo pants. The bandage on his arm was covered by the sleeve of his shirt. His hair was combed and he’d shaved. Except for the bare feet and the crutches, he looked like a spit and polished marine. And he looked beautiful.

  She knew every inch of skin, sinew and muscle beneath those clothes. Knew his scars, knew his most sensitive places, knew what made him weak, what made him strong.

  Just like she knew what made her strong.

  He did.

  “Hey.” She smiled and eased onto a barstool as he slid a mug of coffee across the counter to her. “Thanks.”

  She sipped, savored. “Umm. Good. I could get used to this.”

  Dallas stilled, stiffened, then turned back to the coffee pot, filled his mug.

  He said nothing, but Amy read his body language loud and clear: Don’t. Don’t get used to it.

  The rich, mellow cocoon she’d felt envelop her let go like a bursting bubble. And in a heartbeat, she went from warm and happy and secure to cold and confused and exposed.

  Don’t get used to it.

  “I called out for pizza,” he said, moving carefully around the kitchen on his crutches. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  She had been. She’d been starved. But she’d suddenly lost her appetite.

  “How’s your leg?” she managed because she had to say something. Something other than, Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out. Don’t turn me away.

  “It’s fine. Be glad when I can ditch these things, though.”

  Like he’d be glad when he could ditch her.

  Oh, God.

  She could deal with the pain. She’d dealt with a lot of pain in her life. And she wouldn’t make it hard for him. What she couldn’t do was stay here any longer and suffer through all this polite distance.

  “Can I use your phone? I lost mine somewhere along the way.”

  He frowned, shrugged. “Sure.”

  She lifted the phone book off the counter and took it with her into his bedroom. Found out there was a flight for JFK leaving in two hours and called a cab.

  Then she gathered her things in silence and walked back into the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, looking grim.

  Because he doesn’t know how to let me down without hurting me.

  She was determined that he wouldn’t have to.

  “Good news,” she said, pasting on a happy face. “There’s a flight to New York leaving in two hours. But that means I have to hustle because it’s going to be tight.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. He unfolded his arms, braced his palms behind him on the counter. “You don’t have to leave so soon.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I do.” And fought tears. “I need to see my mo
m. See how she’s doing, you know?”

  And she needed…she needed so badly to get out here before she broke down and begged.

  “Look…I’m probably going to get a little sloppy here. Never have been too good with good-byes. Guess that’s why I just sort of skipped out before.”

  She stopped, swallowed, drew a bracing breath. “Thank you, Dallas. Thank you for everything. God. That sounds so lame. But I don’t know what else to say. You…what you did for me. The risks you took. Well. I don’t know how to repay you.”

  But she did know. She’d repay him by making this easy for him. By getting out of his hair.

  He closed his eyes. Shook his head. “Amy—”

  “No. You don’t have to say anything. In fact, please don’t. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll be good. Great, in fact.” She bobbed her head up and down, hoped to hell her fake smile hadn’t turned into a grimace that mirrored her pain.

  “Really,” she added for emphasis as he stood there looking miserable and guilty and grim.

  Finally he nodded. “I’ll take you to the airport.”

  No resistance. None. The final nail in her coffin.

  “Not necessary.” She shouldered her backpack. “I called it cab. It should be here any minute.”

  He gathered his crutches, tucked them under his arms and walked over to her. Searched her face.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry he didn’t love her. Sorry he couldn’t ask her to stay. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

  “It’s okay. It’s really okay.”

  Because she couldn’t stop herself, she lifted her hand. Touched his face one last time.

  “Gotta go,” she said and quickly backed away.

  Then she rushed for the door, swung it open and left him without looking back.

  Fast. Cutting. Clean. It was the only way to survive leaving Dallas Garrett.

  And she would survive.

  “Airport,” she said when the cab pulled up and she climbed inside.

  She always survived.

  Dallas sat in his living room in the dark. The scent of cold pizza permeated the air. The full box sat untouched on the coffee table.

  The silence was suffocating. The tick of a clock. The hum of his climate control system. The total absence of Amy.

  He wondered if she’d made it back to New York yet. Wondered if she was crying now.

  He propped his chin on his fist. She was in love with him. He knew that. Just as he knew she’d get over it. That she’d get on with her life now.

  It was the one thing he felt good about. He’d played a part in closing a chapter that had threatened and tormented and tortured her.

  Now she was free to move on.

  He pictured her face. The ivory skin. The dusting of freckles that was so sexy and sweet. Those blue, blue eyes that spoke to him. Blue eyes misted with tears as she’d bravely let him go.

  Because she had wanted to make it easy for him.

  Because she thought he didn’t love her.

  He slumped back in his overstuffed chair. Alone in the dark. In the quiet.

  And he had only himself to blame.

  Three weeks later

  Well, what do you know, déjà vu all over again.”

  Dallas glared at Nolan across the expanse of his walnut desk at E.D.E.N.

  His brother stood in his office doorway. Arms crossed over his chest, shoulder leaning against the frame, the ever-present bottle of root beer in his hand.

  “If you’re referring to your irritating habit of sticking your unwanted nose into my business—yeah. It’s starting to feel a helluva a lot like Ground-hog Day.”

  Undaunted, Nolan pushed away from the door. Eased a hip on the corner of Dallas’ desk and picked up a paperweight in the shape of a dolphin—a gift from his mother.

  “I was thinking more in terms of you getting squirrelly on us again.”

  “Squirrelly.” Dallas repeated, not wanting to be sucked into this discussion but knowing it was unavoidable.

  “Yeah. You know.” Nolan set down the paperweight. “Pissed at the world in general. Moody. Miserable,” he added with meaning.

  He was miserable. And he knew he was making everyone around him miserable, too.

  But he’d made his decision. It was the right one. At least it was the right one for Amy.

  He missed her like hell. Wondered how she was. What she was doing. If she was okay. A hundred times in the past three weeks he’d picked up the phone, stared at the number he’d gotten from directory assistance and put the phone down without dialing.

  It was best. For her, it was best.

  And his well-intended family needed to accept that.

  “Two words,” Dallas said, holding his brother’s gaze. “Butt out.”

  “Yeah, I thought you’d say that, but it’s not going to happen.”

  Dallas heaved out a long breath, leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “I have work to do.”

  “Actually, you don’t. We cleared your schedule.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He’s talking about this,” Eve said, walking into the room with Ethan right behind her.

  “What is this—a fucking intervention?”

  “Close enough.” Eve slapped a sheet of paper on his desk.

  “Christ. Can’t a man work in peace?” he sputtered, leaned forward and snatched up the paper. It was an e-ticket. One-way to New York.

  “Like she said,” Ethan answered. “You don’t have any work today. Not for the next week, as a matter of fact.”

  “Now get your ass to New York. Go get your woman,” Nolan said. “You let her go once, bro. We’re not going to let you make the same mistake again.”

  “And straighten out your attitude while you’re there, okay?” Eve said sweetly.

  He looked from the ticket to them, to the window. Fought a temptation so great it made his gut hurt.

  “Go to her,” Eve said softly. “You’re good for her, Dallas. And she’s good for you. Whatever is keeping you from accepting that is wrong thinking.”

  “Flight leaves at three,” Ethan said. “Be on it.”

  And then they left him.

  Alone.

  To think.

  And to make the biggest decision of his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Upstate New York

  It had been almost a month since they’d left Argentina, yet some nights, when Amy left work at Winter Haven, she expected to walk out to a sea of green grass, a hot summer night and blue surf. But it was still the thick of winter in New York and the chill that settled in her bones as the artic cold hit her full in the face snapped her back to reality like a slap.

  It was a black, moonless night. A front had moved in during the afternoon, dropped two fresh inches of snow on top of the existing six and promised at least two more before it was all over.

  Thick fat flakes, as dense as fog, drifted down, settling on her shoulders, dusting her hair. She burrowed deeper into her muffler, dug her car keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

  The little Honda wasn’t much. But she could afford it and it ran well, even in the coldest of weather. She climbed inside, slipped the key in the ignition and fired it up. She set the heater to full defrost, dug under the seat for her ice scraper and headed back out to clear the windows of snow.

  Five minutes later, she pulled out of the employee parking lot, her wipers fighting valiantly to keep her windshield clear. Then she drove. And she didn’t let herself think about a night not so long ago when, on this very road, she’d taken a life to save her own.

  Thirty minutes after that, after a slow and careful drive on snow-packed roads, she pulled into her parking space at her apartment building in town.

  She shut off the motor. A fresh film of snow immediately covered her windshield. She was thinking of hot chocolate to cut the chill as she gathered her purse and opened the door. Hot chocolate on a cold, snowy night. More than a treat: a comfort
. To cut the loneliness. To replace the warmth of a certain man.

  She missed him so much. Didn’t realize it was possible to miss someone so much. To ache heart deep with missing him. To long foolishly for a happily ever after.

  But that was the stuff of fairy tales. And her life had never been that.

  Her boots sank into a good four inches of snow when she stepped outside. She turned to lock her doors and heard his voice. Soft. Warm. Here.

  “Hey.”

  She stopped cold, her fingers frozen on her key.

  Then she spun around.

  And there he was.

  Dallas.

  “Hey,” he said again, a tentative smile tilting up one corner of his mouth.

  All she could manage to do was to stare, incredulous, yet desperate to believe her eyes weren’t playing tricks.

  But it was Dallas.

  Dark, dangerous, beautiful, huddled against the cold in a lightweight jacket. His hands stuffed in his pants pockets. The jacket collar tugged up around his ears to stall the cold.

  His breath puffed out in foggy clouds; snow covered his thick dark hair. And under the scant glow from the streetlight on the corner, his blue gaze was locked on hers, a small smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  “What…well…um. You’re a long way from home,” she finally said. It was a chore to squeeze the words out around the tightening in her throat.

  Her heart pounded, her ears rang and more than the cold had her trembling.

  “What I want to know,” he said, hunching his shoulders and suppressing a shudder, “is why anyone would want to subject themselves to this deep freeze. Pretty as hell, yeah. But, damn, is it cold.”

  She still couldn’t say anything. He obviously knew it.

  “Don’t suppose you’d have a hot cup of coffee for a cold man?” He lifted a thick dark eyebrow. Hopeful. Even a little hesitant.

  “Um…sure. Yes. Of course. L-look at you. You have to be freezing.”

  “In a word,” he admitted, and took her arm when she started walking toward her apartment door in halting steps—warning her foolish, foolish heart not to hope that he was here for any other reason than to check on her.