Hearts Under Siege

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  “Sure. But you know I’ve got to tell Mom and Dad you’re alive, if they haven’t already figured it out. They’ll be down there on the next plane.”

  “Yeah. I’m ready.” He sighed. “Thanks, Brady, for everything. I’m sorry I put you through all this.”

  “You did what you had to do. And God knows I have my own apologies to make.” He rubbed his hand over his face again. He was so fucking exhausted.

  “No, you don’t,” Chris surprised him. “I get it. I think everyone does.”

  It was Brady’s turn to sigh. “Doesn’t matter. I stayed away too long. Caused too much pain. Wasted too much time.”

  “Yeah? With Molly?” Chris sounded excited.

  “Yeah.” Brady pushed himself to his feet with a groan. “Let me get Shae. I’ll see you in a day or two.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  When Brady entered the kitchen, he stopped for a moment to watch his mother and niece. They were hunched over mugs of hot chocolate, a plate with sandwich crumbs set off to the side. They talked in low murmurs he couldn’t hear even from the doorway. But Shae giggled, apparently already recovering from her ordeal. Maybe living a secret life had made her resilient. But being a Fitzpatrick made her strong.

  “Did it work?” the girl asked his mother.

  “In a manner of speaking. The roof was so slick, they landed on their butts, slid down to the edge, caught the gutters with their feet, and flipped off into the snowbank. They were grounded for a month.”

  “Hey, now.” Brady walked around the center island to the breakfast nook where they sat. “No fair telling her all our misspent youth stories right off the bat. Let her get to know her manly uncle first.”

  Shae grinned up at him. “Can I call you Uncle Brady?”

  Her words pierced his heart with a sweetness he’d never felt. “Of course.” He cleared his throat when it came out husky. He quickly handed her his phone. “Your father.” And didn’t that sound weird.

  She stared at him. Then her face lit up. “Dad? He’s— He’s not—”

  Crap. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t told her. And now he’d told his mother, too. What was wrong with him?

  “He’s fine. He wants to make sure you are.”

  Shae jumped up and dashed out of the room, the phone already to her ear. “Dad? Is that really you?”

  Brady sat across from his frozen mother and eyed her warily, not sure what reaction he’d get when she finished processing what he’d said.

  She slowly turned to face him. “Did you just say Shae’s father is on the phone?”

  He nodded.

  Hope and sorrow flickered over her expression, as though she wasn’t sure which to feel. Hope that her son was alive, or sorrow that Shae wasn’t her granddaughter after all. “Who is her father, Brady?”

  “It’s Christopher,” he said gently.

  She burst into tears.

  “Mom, it’s okay.” He quickly slid around to her side of the table and pulled her into his arms. “He’s okay.” Her sobbing didn’t lessen. “Where’s Dad?”

  Just then, he came into the room.

  “Who’s the girl talking to?” he asked before noticing that his wife was uncharacteristically hysterical. “What’s going on?”

  “Chris is alive.” Brady said it flat out, so there were no uncertainties. “Aldus and Ellison tried to kill him when he got too close, so he pretended they’d succeeded. Unfortunately, he came out of hiding too soon, and he was shot. He’s in the hospital in DC, but he’ll be okay.”

  Rick wobbled over to the table and sat, his eyes watery. “I can’t believe it. What a crazy…” His hand shook as he reached across the table to take his wife’s. “Donna. He’s alive. And we have a granddaughter. And we’re going to have—” He glanced at Brady and stopped, just smiling.

  Speaking of which…

  “Where’s Molly?” Brady released his mother and stood, working his way around her because she didn’t seem to want to let go of his father’s hand.

  “She’s still in with the detective.”

  “Still?” Brady echoed. Dammit. He wanted her now. Everything was settling into place for everyone else, and he wanted his share.

  But maybe it was better this way. He should tell Jessica about Christopher first. Then everything would be taken care of, at least for now. He wanted to know more about how everyone had wound up in SIEGE, and who knew what when. Then he’d be able to concentrate on convincing Molly that they needed to be together.

  He walked down the shadowy hallway to the room Jessica was using and tapped on the door.

  “Come in.” She sounded dull, drained. When he opened the door, he found her sitting on the side of the bed, her pose listless. His heart went out to her. She wasn’t equipped for this. Luckily, he had the cure, and then he could hand her back to her husband to manage.

  “Jess, I have news.”

  Her head came up, color flaring into her cheeks and anger into her eyes. “How dare you come in here to talk to me? You left. You walked out on your brother’s funeral! On me.”

  “That’s what I’m here about.” There was no chair to sit on, and he wasn’t comfortable sitting on the unmade bed, so he leaned against the wall in front of her. “I want to tell you where we went. Why it was so urgent to leave.”

  “I don’t want to hear it! You betrayed us! All of us! For years, Chris was so depressed that you stayed away. And now you couldn’t even watch his body get buried.”

  “Hey.” Brady bit back self-defense. It wasn’t important now. “Jess, he’s alive. Okay? I didn’t betray anything. Molly and I went to find him.” He spared her details. It was up to Chris to tell her what had happened and why. “He’s hurt, but he’s okay. He’s going to be okay,” Brady repeated when she didn’t react. Was she even listening?

  “You and that whore,” she growled, looking around her as if for a weapon. “She had to take you away when I needed you most.” Apparently giving up on finding what she was looking for, she launched herself off the bed at Brady, fists landing first, bouncing off his chest. He gasped when one landed on his wounded shoulder, and tried to catch her wrists.

  “Jessica, listen. He’s—” He had to duck when she aimed at his head. She didn’t stop, so he wrapped his arms around her, pinning hers to her sides. “Stop. Jess. Chris is alive.” He said it directly into her ear, and she froze. He repeated it more softly, and she sagged against him.

  “Really?” When she tilted her head back, he saw how ravaged her grief had made her.

  “Really.”

  “Oh, my God.” She backed away, her hand over her mouth. “How? Where is he? I need to get to him.”

  “My parents are probably making those arrangements right now.” He explained that Chris was in the hospital, but not the details. Again, it was up to Chris how much he’d tell anyone.

  “Thank you, Brady.” She leaned up to kiss him on the mouth, a quick, shocking press before she dashed out. He stood there, frowning, flashing back to the one other time they’d kissed. He remembered the roiling, burning, destructive longing, such a complete contrast to the utter cold he felt now.

  He became aware of a presence in the hall and turned quickly. “Molly.”

  “I know.” She came in and reached for his hand. “Come on. You must be exhausted.”

  He was. He’d known he was, but now it sank on him like a blanket of snow, or fog, enveloping his whole body. He trudged up the stairs behind her, his legs so heavy he could barely clear each step. “I need a shower,” he murmured when they got to the hall and approached the bathroom.

  “You’re not supposed to get your wound wet. And even if you could, you wouldn’t make it through that.” She did pull him into the room, though, and sat him on the toilet. “But we can clean you up some.”

  Brady sat in a daze as she removed his shirt and bandage, sponged him down as clinically as any nurse, and re-covered his wound. The inevitable spark of interest when she stripped off his jeans snuffed out almost im
mediately, even before she helped him into a pair of boxers.

  He must have dozed off standing up, because in a blink they were next to his bed. A pillow had never looked so inviting in his life. But when Molly would have lowered him to the bed, he resisted and pulled her into his arms, burying his nose in her riotous hair. She smelled like her. Like home.

  “Stay with me,” he begged.

  “I need a shower.” She pulled away and coaxed him onto the bed. “I’ll come back, okay?”

  “You better,” he grumbled into the pillow, and then he was out. He woke a little when she did return, making sure she spooned against him, not even caring that draping his arm over her made his shoulder ache. “I love you,” he whispered, and fell asleep.

  …

  Molly slept far more soundly than she’d expected, but she woke early. The house was deadly silent. Before her shower, she’d talked to Brady’s parents and Jessica. They’d gotten an emergency fare for the next flight out of New York and were almost packed. She’d offered to drive them to the airport, but they refused. Since she actually was as exhausted as they accused her of being, she didn’t insist.

  Jessica had been eager to leave. Her demeanor had changed drastically, the tragic widow gone in a seeming instant. The ravages of the last few days were still apparent in her red eyes and haggard complexion, not to mention how frighteningly skinny she’d become. But there was a glow of happiness as she urged Rick and Donna to hurry, and kept checking the flight status on her smartphone.

  She hadn’t said a word about Shae, or about Molly and Brady’s role in getting Christopher to safety. Maybe she was just too focused on her husband, but Molly briefly wished Brady had been able to see her self-centeredness so vividly. Just as reinforcement.

  After Molly woke, she lay in bed for a long time, thinking. Brady still slept deeply, his possessive arm flung across her. She was right where she’d longed to be for so many years.

  She’d watched Jessica kiss Brady, and his reaction had been contemplative, not devastated. It hadn’t sparked memories or his old feelings, she was sure of it. So she could be sure of him, couldn’t she? As they dozed off last night, he’d whispered that he loved her. The words had sunk into her and taken root, a more solid binding than even a lifetime friendship.

  If she and Brady were together now, she’d have to banish any concern that he could backslide, or that he was lying to himself about his feelings for Jessica being gone. Molly wouldn’t jeopardize their relationship because of jealousy or fear.

  But that wasn’t the only element in the equation. Brady’s feelings had changed during the most painful and high-tension period of his life. A very short period, too. Maybe he didn’t really love her, but only thought he did because of what they’d been through. Hell, maybe it had affected her, too. How could either of them know what they wanted when their entire lives had been flipped upside down?

  She turned her head to look at him. His face was half-buried in the pillow, so she could only see one side of it. One thick-lashed eye. The sweep of one cheekbone and jaw line. Half of a full, firm mouth. But his gorgeousness tore at her. The urge hit her to roll over and dip her tongue into the corner of his mouth. Heat erupted all over her body, driven by desire. She had to smile at herself. Her life might have changed, but her feelings were as constant as they’d ever been.

  Brady’s eye blinked open, then sank closed again. He sighed and pulled her closer, a whimper of pain escaping him. “Holy fuck, that hurts,” he muttered into the pillow, but didn’t let go.

  “What does, your shoulder?”

  “Everything.” He gave up and rolled onto his back, letting out his breath in a long groan. “Please tell me I can take a shower.”

  “You can take a bath. We’ll have to cover your shoulder, though.” She pulled herself up and flung back the covers. “I’ll go get a trash bag and tape.” She stopped when Brady grabbed her wrist. “What?”

  Sleepiness was gone. He gave her a very intent look like he was trying to pin her to something. “I want to kiss you, but I’ve got sick morning mouth.”

  Molly smiled. “Me, too. It can wait.”

  “Toothbrushing, showers, and then I want you back here in this bed with me. We’ll pretend to be waking up again.”

  She laughed and agreed. When she’d retrieved the supplies from downstairs and met him in the bathroom, he’d already started the water and was ready to get in. She steeled herself and made efficient work of covering his bandage, able to remain clinical until he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her up against his naked body.

  “Come in with me? Make sure I keep it dry?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  She laughed again but shook her head. “I need to brush and stuff, too. You can handle it.”

  “Fine.” He pouted, but climbed into the tub and let out a long, ecstatic moan that set her pulse racing.

  “Fuck, that feels good.” After a pause, he said, “You still there?”

  “Yeah.” She moved to the sink and wet her toothbrush. Brady yelped as his water briefly went cold.

  “Any word from my folks?” Water splashed, and she heard the click of the shampoo bottle being opened.

  “Not that I saw. They got a quick flight and were leaving immediately.” She checked the little clock on the shelf above the toilet. It had been several hours. “They’ve probably been to see him and gotten a hotel room already.”

  “They won’t be back until he’s ready to come home.”

  “That could be a while. They might be willing to let him out of the hospital, but not necessarily to travel that distance.” She scrubbed the fuzz off her teeth and brushed her tongue for good measure.

  “That gives us an empty house for a few days.”

  She winced at the teasing in his voice. “Brady, I have to get back to my shop. Even without my SIEGE responsibilities, I can’t afford to leave it closed or under someone else’s management.”

  His response came slowly. “Yeah, okay.” Water splashed, less vigorously than before.

  She said, “I’m going to go use the other shower. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”

  Her heart thumped hard for a couple of beats. She grabbed towels and went downstairs to use the tiny shower off Jessica’s room. Her shower was quick and far less satisfying than Brady’s bath. Partly because he’d used most of the hot water, partly because her mind was in his bedroom, already engaged in whatever he had in mind. She didn’t want to assume the obvious but…

  A few minutes later she walked into the bedroom wrapped in her towel, her hair still damp. She hadn’t had the patience to do anything with it, so the curls rioted around her head. Brady grinned when he saw her and held up the covers.

  “Come here.”

  He was naked.

  She could barely breathe as she dropped the towel and slid in next to him. He lay on his good side and raised his bad arm just enough for her to slip under it. Their knees alternated, and she tucked herself close to his chest. He smelled incredible. Clean, but hot, too. She licked her lips. His eyes tracked the movement but lifted again to meet hers.

  “We have to talk,” he said.

  Her heart sank. “I always have to be naked in a bed to do that,” she snarked.

  His hand stroked soothingly between her shoulder blades. “We have to talk first,” he clarified. “Last time—”

  “I don’t want to talk about last time,” she said. The pain of that day flared before she could squash it. “I don’t think we should ever talk about last time.”

  He frowned. “I used you. I just—”

  She sighed hard. “Brady, I offered myself to you. I would have done anything to help you. And you feeling guilty about it is just as painful.” She blinked against the prickle of tears. Dammit! This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. “Can we let the past stay there and move forward, please?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled her closer, but not so close they couldn’t see each ot
her’s faces. “I just want to know we’re on the same page. That we understand each other and want the same thing.”

  She stayed silent. He could go first. But she realized the way her fingertips were tracing over his pecs and smoothing the line of hair down his abdomen probably gave a hint of what she wanted. She smiled a little when his muscles jumped.

  He caught her hand before it went lower. “Stop that.” Pulling her fingers up to his mouth, he kissed the pads. “I love you, Molly. I think it’s been obvious to everyone but me, both before I first saw Jessica and now.” His brow furrowed, as if he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say. “It seems so obvious now that we belong together, I feel stupid for not seeing it.”

  She sighed and rolled onto her back. “Brady, I don’t want you doing this because of logic or anyone else’s opinions.”

  He yanked her back around and trapped her, not even wincing this time despite how it must hurt his shoulder. “That’s not what’s happening here. Can you feel this?” He flattened her hand on his chest. His heart thudded rapidly against her palm. “It always does this when you’re near me. When you’re not, I’m looking for you, feeling something missing. I’m not whole when you’re not around. It took being with you again to discover how empty my life was without you in it.”

  God, that sounded good, but she wasn’t sure he was reading himself right. “You felt empty because you weren’t with Jessica.”

  “No. I thought that was why I felt empty. But if it was, why didn’t being with her fill that void? Even affected by Chris being dead.” He chuckled. “God. So much easier to say that now that he’s not.”

  She managed a smile. “What if some of the emptiness was just because we didn’t see each other? We were close friends for a really long time.”

  He scowled at her. “This is not—” He shook his head against the pillow. “I’ll have to convince you a different way.” And before she could react, he rolled forward and kissed her. Not the slightly stunned, exploratory kisses from before, and nothing like the raw, pain-driven need of their first time.

  This time, his mouth landed on hers with a core-deep confidence. Perfect pressure, perfect fit. His lips glided across hers as he adjusted the angle, clung as though they were magnetized just for each other. His arms wrapped around her, under her, and lifted her body against his. And again, they fit. Despite the damp-at-the-edges bandage on his shoulder, despite their height difference, they met in all the right places. Chest, belly…pelvis.