All of You

by Dee Tenorio

  He shook his head, tension in his jaw and neck growing visibly tighter before he shrugged and tsked. “Serious, yes. Happening, no. Something in my life came to an end, that’s all. I’m having a little trouble getting used to it being gone, and the thought of living the rest of my life without her—it… It’s hard to imagine.”

  Her anger faded in the wake of his sudden silence.

  “You have a family,” she found herself whispering, trying to explain as well as soothe. There was no way for him to know what it felt like not to be wanted at all. Not to be needed. Not to matter to anyone but yourself. “You have people who care about you. You’re not alone. You don’t know what it means.”

  “You go to work in one of the busiest firms in the city. You’re never alone either, but you’re one of the loneliest people I’ve ever met. You know better than anyone it’s not about being surrounded. It’s about not letting anyone in.”

  “I have reasons.” Good reasons. Smart reasons.

  “I’m sure you do. But you’re still lonely. And you’re still unhappy. Because you choose to be.”

  She bristled. “What makes you think that letting myself fall in love with your brother is going to magically make me happy? For all you know, we’d ruin each other’s lives.”

  “That’s a good point. You could. You two might be the most miserable people on the face of the planet if you get together. I’m not even sure what you see in him. He’s never serious enough, he’s a slob and he’s never met an impulse he didn’t like.” He shrugged.

  She waited in the silence for him to say something else.

  And waited.

  “But?”

  “But what?” He gave her a sidelong glance.

  She blew out a breath in disgust. “No wonder he says you’re a terrible conversationalist.”

  “No, terrible would be telling you about the rabid case of athlete’s foot he had in high school. Or the stuffed rabbit he had on his bed until he was sixteen. This is me being helpful.”

  She laughed despite herself.

  “I can’t tell you how to feel about him. You either love him or you don’t. Hell, half the time I don’t like Kyle. But he’s made my life bearable, even when he’s making me miserable. He’s never let me down, he doesn’t make promises he doesn’t try his damnedest to keep and, just for the record, I think you’d be stupid to pass up the chance to be happy because you’re afraid. Everyone’s afraid. The only people who are happy are the ones who try to be.”

  Lucas sighed, sounding for all the world like a teacher who’d failed. But he didn’t say anything more and Jessica couldn’t bring herself to ask any more questions. Her mind was full as it was.

  She crumpled the kerchief in her hand, trying to find reason and sense somewhere inside herself. It had fled, though, leaving her to face the swirl of emotions that threatened to pull her into their current. Fear, for Kyle, for herself. She could be hurtling toward heartbreak when she found him at that hospital, whether he was hurt or not.

  Folding the fabric carefully in her lap, she concentrated on making each turn precise and perfect. And willed him to be all right when she got there. Once she knew he was safe, she would decide what to do next.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Five hours. Five. That’s how long it took to get the hospital to agree to release him. They’d wanted to keep him overnight, but Kyle refused. He needed to get home, set things right with Jessica. Except they took their damn time letting him go. It would have been less aggravating if Kyle had anything to tell the cops asking questions every fifteen or twenty minutes. Blowing their agent’s cover hadn’t exactly endeared him to them. Falling asleep in the van had lacked intelligence and rendered him unable to claim he’d learned any other valuable information. He wasn’t even the one who fired the shot that killed the drug lord. Neither was Daniel, small consolation that it was, but it was his gun that ultimately did the deed.

  Nope, all Kyle had done was knock down a psychopath and get shot through his damn shoulder. A through and through, Daniel had explained when Kyle came to, still leaning on him in the dirt and putting enough pressure on the wound to flatten a moose. Meaning he hadn’t even stopped the stupid bullet. Maybe it was the pain that made him angry—at least the doctor had numbed most of that—but he had a feeling it was the complete pointlessness of it all.

  In the end, the one who saved everyone’s lives was Cody. According to Daniel, they had him in custody for drug trafficking, but when Daniel moved to help Kyle fight off Santos, Cody should have shot him. Instead, he’d turned the gun on Santos, going so far as to finish the job when one shot wasn’t enough. Not that Cody had said a single word to anyone since dropping the weapon and getting on his knees before anyone could shoot him too. Daniel didn’t expect that to change anytime soon, so it would be a waste of time for Kyle to thank him. There was also the possibility, Daniel informed him, that Cody had been aiming for Kyle and hit Santos by accident, necessitating a kill shot.

  Daniel definitely possessed his mother’s sense of humor.

  On the one hand, Kyle comforted himself while the hours crawled by, when it came down to it, he’d done what he felt he had to do to save someone else’s life. It was a pleasant surprise to discover he had some depth of humanity after all.

  On the other hand, he hadn’t stopped shaking since.

  He shook his good hand out while he sat in the waiting room for Daniel to come back for him, scowling at the lame one cradled against his chest in a sling. Same stupid arm and shoulder as in the car accident. The only good thing about it was that it was his left, so it wouldn’t stop him from taking care of himself, and the doctor assured him the pain wouldn’t last too long. A week or two at most.

  It felt like a week or two already, sitting there doing nothing while Daniel handled details only God knew where. He’d said he’d arranged for Kyle to get home, that any further briefing could be done from there, but for the most part everything that had happened had already been recorded and there wasn’t much he’d be asked to add.

  The tracer-in-the-wristwatch story—which Daniel told him was a crock of epic shit—aside, Daniel had been wired and just about everything they said from the hospital on had been listened to by the DEA. Nifty little mic sewn into his rat’s nest of a beard. The guys in the van had been in too much of a hurry to do more than a cursory check of his torso before starting the long drive.

  Kyle did try to apologize again for blowing his cover, but Daniel told him not to sweat it.

  “Hey, we’re alive, right?” he’d asked, smacking Kyle in the back hard enough to push him forward a step.

  Once his vision cleared and the agony faded down to tolerable levels, Kyle had agreed to wait and here he was. Still. Waiting.

  Could be that this was the big guy’s idea of revenge.

  “…in there?” a feminine voice asked from somewhere out in the hallway.

  Kyle frowned, his ears tingling at the familiar timbre—warm, low…frightened?

  “Jess?” he asked, unsteadily moving out of the room, blinking at what had to be a mirage. There was Jessica all right, standing next to Lucas at the nurse’s station, surrounded by the black-uniformed officers milling around.

  She turned and he realized with a shock she was no mirage. Her dark eyes filled with tears and her expression crumpled as she pushed past someone to run his way. He’d only gotten three steps forward when she crashed into him, her arms going around his neck tight enough to strangle him.

  He struggled briefly between his relief at seeing and touching her and his desire to breathe through the blinding pain. Nature eventually won and he pushed her back slightly. “Jess—”

  She didn’t budge. If anything, she tightened her hold. “Just shut up, Kyle, okay? Please?” She pressed her forehead against his neck, letting out a ragged sigh. “You’re okay, that’s all I want to know right now.”

  “Sort—” Argument ended when two steely bands wrapped around both of them and what little air was still
in his lungs was forced out on a wheeze. “Lucas?”

  Kyle blinked through stinging eyes, catching a glimpse of his brother’s dark head bowed across the shoulder Jessica wasn’t occupying. Maybe it was his blackening vision making him imagine things. Lucas didn’t hug people. He barely acknowledged them half the time.

  “Need. Air,” he managed finally.

  They were immediately released from his brother’s hold. Kyle stared disbelievingly at Lucas—God, he looked like he’d been the one who was kidnapped, shot and rolled on the ground a few times—who was coughing discreetly behind his hand to offset the show of emotion. Kyle took in a few extra lungfuls, just in case the two of them wanted to try to squeeze the life from him again, but kept his good arm firmly around Jessica to make sure she stayed right where she was. Give the woman an inch and she ran ten miles.

  “What are you two doing here? And why are you trying to break my neck?”

  Lucas hitched a shoulder. “Sorry, I just…we expected to see you in a hospital bed. Or worse.”

  Kyle frowned, not wanting to admit he was supposed to be in one. “I don’t understand why you were expecting anything. Who told you I was here?” How would they even know who to contact?

  “Some sergeant from the local station. I got the call that there’d been a shooting and you were involved.”

  “What?” Jessica interrupted. “You didn’t say anything about a shooting—”

  “What was I supposed to think?” Lucas continued, pretending Jessica wasn’t skewering him with mental kebab prongs. “And while we’re asking questions, how the hell did you get all the way up here? And what happened to your face?”

  This was the Lucas he knew and loved. But, for a second there, it had been nice to be hugged. Except for the pain. “It’s not serious,” he said, nodding obliquely to the sling that Lucas had ignored. “The bleeding stopped hours ago.”

  Jessica’s eyes threatened to swallow her face. “Bleeding?”

  “I’m fine, Jess. Cleaned, stitched and shot up with enough painkillers and antibiotics to run my own pharmacy.”

  “Stitched?”

  “Oh good, your ride’s here.”

  Kyle looked past Lucas’s shoulder to find Daniel there, a small grin on his face as he leaned on the wall, his badge clipped in open view on his hip.

  “What exactly did you tell them?” Kyle demanded.

  “Just what they needed to hear, apparently. Hi, Jessica, how are you doing?”

  “Hi, we…” She looked up at Kyle, confusion all over her face. He tried to think of a quick response, but she looked back at Daniel for one instead. “What are you doing here?”

  “Federal agent. I was getting my life saved by your boyfriend there.”

  Kyle winced. “That’s not exactly what happened.”

  “Maybe not how it started, but that’s how it ended. I’d be a smudge on the ground if you hadn’t jumped in front of that gun. It was pretty brave, man. Two inches lower and you’d have been toast.”

  “You what?” Jessica spun, looking him up and down as if there was another hole she missed the first time she got a look at him.

  Well, actually, there was, so he moved his good side a little closer to her, hoping she’d miss the thick bandage under the generic green smock the nurse gave him.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Jessica nearly shrieked. “You could have been killed!”

  “Well, he probably would have been killed anyway, but it’s the thought that counts.” Daniel seemed to have realized that she wasn’t into the hero thing, because he straightened up while the blood drained out of her face.

  “Daniel, you’re not helping.” Kyle dropped a kiss on her temple, tucking her head back to his good shoulder. Her hold had gotten tight again. He could feel the fabric of his shirt pulling from the back. “I’m fine, Jess. The doctor called it a flesh wound. No arteries, no bone damage. Just some stitches.”

  “You swear?” she asked, her voice muffled against his neck.

  “I swear. You can check for yourself when we get home.”

  He waited for her to push him away, to get angry at him for saying anything in front of Lucas or Daniel, and she did stiffen, but she just blew out a sigh and stayed where she was without argument.

  Kyle pulled a relieved breath in and glanced over at Lucas and Daniel. His brother gave him a sad half-smile, then nudged the self-satisfied-looking Daniel into a walk down the hall to give them privacy. He might double well for a cyborg, but every now and then, Lucas was all right.

  Kyle leaned the side of his head down to rest against Jessica’s. She felt so good to hold, her softness and strength a balm for his nerves. The tremor in his hands lessened and his air came easier as relief finally settled in. As he breathed in her scent, holding her against him, his eyes stung at the whirlwind of the day replaying through his mind. He might never have felt this again. Not because of Santos, either. Because of himself.

  “I have so much to tell you,” he whispered, feeling raw and open no matter how she might respond. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “It’s okay,” Jessica murmured, running her hands over his back in a gentle, supportive circle. “We have time now, don’t worry. You’ll tell me.”

  Kyle nodded, lifting his chin from her hair, trying to compose himself again.

  “You’re all set to go, Kyle.” Daniel walked over from wherever Lucas had drawn him. “They want you to see your regular doctor as soon as you can. Oh, and don’t tell my mom about this yet, okay? I prefer to get her out of the hospital before I scare the shit out of her.”

  Kyle cleared his throat to get the pressure there loose enough to speak. “Maybe you could take the whole gun/near-death angle out entirely.”

  “Nah, she likes hearing about that part. It’s the idea of having me underfoot every day from now on that might freak her out.” Daniel shook his head, already turning to head back down the hall. “She thinks I cramp her style. Drive safe. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “They have got to be the oddest mother-son pair I’ve ever met in my life,” Jessica muttered when Daniel disappeared from sight.

  “But I like them.” With any luck, he wouldn’t see much of them, but he did—strangely enough—like them.

  “Me too.” Jessica grinned, wiping at her eyes. “They make me feel a little less weird.”

  “So, are you ready?” Lucas asked, back to impatience as usual.

  “Looks that way.” He twined his hand with Jessica’s. He was ready for a lot of things. Even waiting. She stared back at him, the nervousness in her expression clear. Then something happened. It faded, not all the way, but it suddenly wasn’t the only thing he could see. And she smiled. It was small, but it shone in her eyes like a promise of good things to come.

  Then she slid next to him and tucked her head onto his shoulder, right where she fit, and led the way down the hall.

  * * * * *

  Kyle’s apartment was not at all what Jessica expected.

  “Whoa.” was all she could say after he flipped on the lights.

  It was homey. Cream walls, cherry paneling, green carpet. He had a lot of furniture, but all of it looked worn and comfy. There were throws on the backs of the couches and pillows you could fall into. If there were a big enough table, she’d call the room poker-night heaven.

  “Whoa, good, I mean,” she rushed to clarify. “I like it. Very bachelor-chic.”

  “Uh-huh.” Kyle grinned at her, appearing to wait for something more definitive.

  She looked around for something, anything, to comment intelligently on. There was sports memorabilia, some in frames on the walls, some in the bookshelves acting as separators for DVD cases. Plaqued baseball cards. Mini-football helmets with signatures in small glass cases. Porcelain boat figurines? In baby blue and yellow, with shiny gold trim. That capped it. She was speechless.

  “I kept some stuff when our parents sold their house,” Kyle finally explained, not doing much to stifle a chuckle.

/>   Should she tell him that she kind of liked not knowing what was coming next where he was concerned?

  Probably not the smartest idea. He’d think that was a license to surprise her at every turn and she doubted she’d be able to keep up with that without kicking him.

  “So, these are your mother’s?” She touched one of the little boats with the tip of her finger.

  “They aren’t what you’d call chick-magnet material, but Mom put those in our room when we were babies and kept them ever since. Seemed weird to throw them out.” He touched the figure as well, running over the little yellow boat body to meet her, then taking her whole hand into his. “These remind me of her.”

  Jessica let him hold on, relief that he was still here to be touched still coursing through her. There was so much about him she didn’t know. Every time she thought she had him pegged—liar, man-handler, seducer, misguided lover—he added some other dimension to himself she never would have imagined. “You’re one confusing man, Kyle Lonnigan.”

  “I thought I was pretty straightforward.” He tugged her into his arms, his lips finding hers with an urgency she couldn’t mistake.

  She softened for him, her arms wrapping around his waist, needing to give to him as much as he clearly needed to connect. She’d gotten so used to shutting this part of herself off—the desire to comfort, to share—she’d forgotten how soothing it was to her own senses.

  He used his good arm to steer her toward the couch. Which reminded her that he had a bad arm.

  “Shouldn’t you eat first? Or rest—”

  He sat in the corner of the leather seat, pulling her down on his lap with a tired shake of his head. “When I was in that van…when that gun was pointed between my eyes…”

  Sheer terror jolted her, stealing her breath and filling her heart with pain at just the knowledge that he’d been in that position.

  “All I could think about was having one more second with you. One more minute, one more chance to tell you I was wrong. To tell you that I’m an ass and that if you’ll just let me be with you, I don’t care what comes next. That I can wait, because you’re worth waiting for.”