by Lucy Score
“Lucky me,” she said dryly. Waverly pushed her empty plate away and picked up her coffee. “I heard you were engaged.”
“Are you asking if I was?”
She shrugged as if she didn’t care, but she was hungry for an answer.
“I was not.”
“But you were in a serious relationship?” she pushed.
“I was. I’m not now.”
“Why?”
“You.”
“Please. We haven’t spoken in years. What did I have to do with your relationship?”
“She wasn’t you.”
He was pushing her off center, feeding her words that felt like truth but couldn’t be.
“What’s Micah up to these days?” she asked, abruptly switching the subject.
“Does Dante make you feel the way I did?” Xavier asked, leaning in.
“You mean full of rage? No, he’s pretty low key. And I’m the one asking the questions.”
The tic in his jaw was the only sign that he wasn’t as relaxed as he seemed to be. “My apologies,” Xavier said, picking up his coffee.
“Why now?” Waverly asked.
“I thought you were better off without me.”
“I am,” she challenged. “What changed your mind?”
“I saw the news.”
“And you wanted to swoop in and save me again?”
“I saw the news and knew it was bullshit. How much of the last few years have been fake, Waverly? Since when do you stumble out of clubs drunk off your ass or fly off to St. Barths to party with a bunch of kids with diplomat parents? What are you into that’s so secretive that you let your parents think you’re in rehab?”
“You think you know me so well,” she shook her head. “You have no idea who I am.”
“I know more than you think. You’re still playing a role.”
“I’m playing a role that I choose. There’s a difference,” she snapped and then cursed herself for letting him get that much out of her.
“Let me in, Angel. Do it before you get hurt.”
Waverly pushed back from the table. “I already got hurt, X. I’m a lot stronger now.” She picked up her plate and mug. “Thanks for breakfast.”
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He hadn’t meant to push her so early, but historically his control around Waverly sucked. Some things never changed. He wondered if she felt the difference from yesterday to today that was so evident to him. Even the way she moved was stronger, more energetic. She’d tangled with him, verbally at least, and he saw her color coming back.
She’d never admit it, but arguing with him made her feel more alive. And he felt the same thing.
He needed to be more patient, Xavier reminded himself, needed to give her time to get used to having him around again. And he needed to find ways to wear her down. One chip at a time until she was his again.
Last night, he’d ordered his research department to make a few unofficial inquiries into Dante Wrede’s whereabouts. He’d also done a little looking himself before turning in. Dante had last been publicly seen in L.A. on Friday. Sunday—the same day that Waverly’s stint in rehab was announced—an unnamed source had told a handful of gossip sites that he was enjoying a long, impromptu vacation in the Seychelles, but no one had captured him there frolicking on the beach or otherwise.
Xavier also knew there had been no flight plans filed for the Seychelles by the charter company that Wrede favored. So if he’d gone abroad, someone else had taken him.
One thing he was sure about, whatever Waverly was tangled up in, Wrede had put her there.
He took another minute to stare out over the crystal blue of the water and realized he felt lighter than he had in years. Just being near her was enough to lift the weight of the fog he’d operated under for so long. He could almost picture his mother saying, “I told you so.” And she would as soon as he told her he was back on Waverly’s security detail. She’d root for him just as she’d lambasted him for letting her go all those years ago.
There were voices coming from inside. The rest of the gang was ready to meet the day. Xavier rose and picked up his dishes.
“Is he still here?” he heard Kate hiss as he walked in from the patio.
“He is,” Xavier answered for Waverly. “And you slept through breakfast, so you can fend for yourself,” he told her.
Marisol was studying Waverly intently with her dark, all-seeing eyes. “You look better today,” she told her.
Waverly nodded and avoided looking at Xavier. “I feel better.”
“I wonder why?” Marisol sniffed smugly.
Waverly narrowed her eyes at the woman, knowing exactly what she was implying. “I got a good night’s sleep. Alone, Mari,” she said pointedly.
Xavier knew exactly what Marisol was doing. Sending him a message that he wasn’t the only one who’d improved with his visit.
“Whatever you say,” Marisol said innocently.
Waverly looked as though she was barely resisting the urge to stomp her foot.
“Hey, before Mari has to head to the airport, why don’t we do that dress fitting in case we’re back in town for the Fundraiser Fashion Gala?” Kate suggested, stepping in to distract.
“You don’t know when you’re going home?” Xavier asked. “Is someone telling you when you can come back?”
Waverly gave Kate a shove toward the stairs. “Can’t talk! Dress fitting,” she announced, and the three women trooped upstairs.
Xavier shook his head. Whatever they were hiding, he’d find out.
He took his laptop and a second cup of coffee onto the patio off his room and set up at the table. It was nice to be working out of a closer time zone to Micah and the L.A. headquarters. He already had a few responses to his requests the night before, including one from Micah.
Saint,
Here I was, happy as a pig in shit when I saw you put in for your first vacation in a hundred years. I was thinking, “Finally, Saint’s pulling himself together and running off to a tropical paradise with a beautiful woman.” And then I see your request for Research to look into Dante Wrede.
You’d better not be pulling Invictus resources to stalk She Who Shall Not Be Named’s boyfriend, or I’m going to have to call for an intervention.
Go have yourself a legitimate vacation and at least one drink with an umbrella in it. Or else.
Micah
Xavier shook his head. Micah had had his back for as long as they’d known each other and especially in the days after Waverly’s kidnapping and attempted murder. When Xavier had broken it off, he’d thrown himself into a spectacular downward spiral that only ended when Micah broke into Xavier’s apartment, threw him in the shower, and then shoved him on a plane headed for home.
He’d spent two weeks with his family until he couldn’t stand the smothering and had come back to the job emotionally bruised and battered but alive.
It had taken a long time for him to get his feet under him again. The what-ifs of Waverly’s abduction had haunted him. What if he’d insisted she stay home? What if he hadn’t picked a fight with her that night? What if he hadn’t left her side in the club? What if they had been one second later on Hollywood Boulevard?
He’d never gone back out in the field after that. At first, his confidence had been too shaken. Visions of the knife flashing above Waverly’s head still stalked him at night. But as he regrouped, he realized he could still be an asset to Invictus. He’d developed a tiered training program for new recruits and seasoned staff. It had allowed them to field some of the best assets in the private security industry. Today, Invictus was the name in security.
He rolled his shoulders and drafted a response to Micah.
Micah,
First of all, pigs are actually very clean animals. So your “pig in shit” metaphor lacks a realistic foundation. Secondly, I’m not running down some personal vendetta against Wrede, even if he does dress like a douche.
&
nbsp; I’ve got a reliable source who claims he’s been missing for almost a week. Just doing my due diligence. Humor me.
X
P.S. I am currently enjoying a very tropical beach view and may seek out an umbrella drink at some point.
Voices from Waverly’s room carried down on the breeze, and he heard laughter. God, he’d missed her. Yes, their time together had been short. But the connection they’d forged ran fast and deep. He felt it again now and knew Waverly did, too. It was a vibration in the air between them, an awareness, a hunger.
“Next time you get shot, can you do it in a less conspicuous area?” Kate’s voice carried down to him.
“Next time, I’ll be sure to ask the shooter to aim for the feet. No one would miss a toe or two,” Waverly answered with sarcasm.
But the rest of the conversation was lost to him as Xavier slammed into the house and stormed up the stairs.
CHAPTER FIVE
He didn’t bother knocking, just threw her bedroom door open. Kate and Marisol were gathered around Waverly who stood on a footstool modeling a black halter dress. Kate was trying to yank fabric over gauze until she saw him, and then she jumped back a good foot. Marisol ignored him and busied herself in her sewing kit on the dresser.
“Out,” he said, his voice eerily calm.
“Excuse me, you’re not in charge here,” Waverly turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. But Kate and Marisol were already jumping ship, muttering excuses of packing and imaginary phone calls.
“Cowards!” Waverly called after them from her perch on the footstool in front of the mirror.
Marisol shut the door quietly behind her.
Xavier didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, for a moment. Whatever trouble he’d imagined for Waverly, it didn’t involve her getting shot.
“Show me.” His voice was ragged with suppressed emotion.
“I don’t have anything on under this.” She wore a black halter dress with a hint of shimmer that bared an acre of back.
“I’ve seen it before,” he reminded her a little harshly.
“And you think that’s a pass to see it again?” she snapped.
Xavier sighed and looked down at the floor. He wanted to rip the dress from her, to look at the wound, to yell and rage at her, but that would get him nowhere. And she had a point. “No, of course not.”
“Good answer,” she said, simmering. “I don’t have to show you anything. I didn’t ask you to come here. I don’t need you, Xavier.”
“Please, Waverly.” He didn’t know if it was the please or the tremor in his voice that got her. But she stepped off of the footstool and stomped over to the dresser. With her back to him, she pulled a tank top out of the drawer, yanked it on over the dress and then untied the halter.
“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” he heard her mutter under her breath. She pulled the tank up under her breasts baring another swatch of gauze just inches to the right of her navel.
“It went through?” he asked, trying to look at it clinically, coldly.
“Clean through. Just a flesh wound,” she recited.
“Lay down.” The order was out of his mouth before he realized he was thinking it. “I mean, can I have you lay down so I can take the gauze off to see?”
Waverly shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever. I need to change them today anyway.” She turned away from him, the skirt of her dress swishing hypnotically around her knees. She lay on her back and pretended he wasn’t in the room. Xavier circled the bed and eased onto the mattress next to her. His fingers shook when he reached for the bandage.
With care, he peeled it off to reveal a small red hole closed with ruthlessly neat stitches. A relatively small caliber, but still. One inch to the left, and she wouldn’t be laying here now. He could have lost her without ever having found his way back to her.
Rage clogged his throat. She was supposed to be safer without him.
“You’re angry,” she said softly.
He nodded.
“You’re angry, and you’re not yelling at me,” she added.
He raised his gaze to her face. Those gray-green eyes that held the power to stun him watched him warily. He did his best to swallow his anger enough that he didn’t let it lash out but he still didn’t trust his voice. He wanted to rail and yell and force her to tell him what was going on. He needed to know, needed to understand the threats that she faced. Because her threats were his.
But he needed her to tell him, to trust him.
“Okay, now you’re starting to scare me, X,” Waverly told him.
He shook his head. “Can I see the other side?”
Obliging, she rolled carefully onto her side away from him. He repeated the process on her back, peeling away the layers of tape and gauze. The wound was a little larger in diameter as exit wounds were prone to be. But again, the stitches were fine and delicate. The flesh around the bullet hole was pink and healthy.
His fingers traced the area around the wound gently, and he saw goose bumps crop up over her skin.
“Both wounds look healthy,” he said.
“Xavier, I’m fine,” Waverly told him.
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“You sound like you’re being strangled. I know you’re upset.”
Xavier cleared his throat. “Where’s the gauze?” he asked, ignoring her statement.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m doing it.” The words snapped out of him even though his hands remained gentle, not quite completely under control.
“In the bathroom next to the sink.”
He left her on the bed and found the supplies on the quartz countertop. He paused a moment to collect himself. The breath he took filled his lungs with her scent, steadying him. There were a thousand questions racing through his mind, and he needed answers. But he didn’t know if he’d have the patience to wait for them.
He returned to her side and gently rebandaged her back before easing her over to attend to her front.
She laid a hand on his arm as he reached for her. “Xavier. It’s just a flesh wound.”
“Stop placating me, Angel.” He stared hard into her eyes.
“What do you want me to do? You’re upset.”
“I want an honest reaction out of you. Rub it in that I walked away from you and that this is what happened because of it. Tell me the truth. Or tell me to mind my own goddamn business. I want you to be up front about hurting me. Don’t try to cheer me up while you hide how much you don’t trust me. I’m not your parents.”
She did wince then at his words. He began to bandage the wound on her abdomen.
“Fine,” she told him. “I don’t trust you, and I don’t see how I ever would again. I’m not going to tell you how or why I got shot. You’re wasting your time here.”
He ran a finger down the last piece of tape sealing it to her skin. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said. “Now it’s my turn. I’m not settling for this. I will find out what happened—with or without your answers—and put a stop to it. No one hurts you and gets away with it. And if I find out that Wrede had anything to do with this, I’ll show him what a gut shot feels like.”
“This wasn’t Dante’s fault,” Waverly argued.
“But he was involved,” Xavier surmised.
Waverly’s mouth closed with a snap.
“You could have been killed. Again. Waverly, normal people don’t go around getting stabbed and shot. You make movies. This shouldn’t be happening.” He could hear the emotion rising in his own voice.
“I’m safe now,” she said stubbornly.
And she was. He was by her side and not leaving it again. If Waverly Sinner weren’t in this world, then nothing else would matter.
He lay down next to her and gathered her close so her back was fitted to him.
She stiffened against him but didn’t try to pull away.
“Just give me this. Ple
ase. Let me have this,” he said, lips moving against her hair. He held her as he had so many nights before, locked in the safety of his arms. He breathed her in and let the feel of her warm body cradled against him calm him.
He felt her relax degree by degree. Xavier wanted to say the words in that moment. To remind her how much he loved her, but she would only pull away. He had to be patient, and he had work to do. But first, he could just hold her, even just for a moment, even if she didn’t realize she was already his.
--------
That afternoon, they bid Marisol good-bye at the end of the dock. Waverly wrapped the tiny woman in a fierce hug. “Thank you for always being here when I need you, Mari,” she whispered in her ear.
Marisol patted her gently. “You’re a good girl. Make better decisions so next time a vacation is just a vacation.”
Waverly took the criticism with a grin. “I’ll do my best.”
Marisol moved on to Xavier. “I trust you will keep our girl safe?”
“Mari—” Waverly began, but Xavier cut her off.
“I will,” he nodded solemnly.
“Good. I’ll hold you to that,” she promised.
She bid her good-byes to Kate, and they waved her off as the water taxi made a sweeping arc away from the dock before heading south toward San Pedro.
“Who’s up for dinner out tonight?” Kate asked as they trooped back down the dock.
“Me!” Waverly decided. She’d been here six days and had yet to leave the property.
Kate looked over her shoulder at Xavier. “You in, X-Man?”
“I go where she goes,” he said, nodding at Waverly.
“Chicken Shack?” Kate asked.
“Chicken Shack,” Waverly agreed.
--------
They dressed casually in shorts and t-shirts. Waverly wore a ball cap with her hair pulled through the back in a sloppy ponytail.
Xavier insisted on driving, so they took the golf cart south on the only road that served as a definitive line. It wound along between oceanfront properties on their left and ramshackle abodes on their right, between sand and swamp.