The Complete Retrieval Duet

by Martinez, Aly

  A cold chill slid up my spine as I watched him walk away.

  Tessa was quietly crying when I made it to the room. Roman was doing his best to console her as he held her on his lap. Back at the house, I’d promised her that Roman was a good guy. But reassurances only lasted so long for a terrified little girl in the arms of a stranger.

  “Luke!” she shrieked when she caught sight of me.

  Over the past three months, I’d worked my ass off to gain that little girl’s trust. In the beginning, I had done it hoping Clare’s would follow as a result. But, as the days had turned into weeks, I had done it because…well, somewhere along the line, being with them stopped being about an investigation and became everything to do with showing a little girl and her mother that there was a world that didn’t involve beatings and tears.

  Whether it was tickling her as Clare fought a breakdown or tossing her in the air while Clare battled for the ability to breathe, I did my best to distract them both from the madness that was their lives. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I’d loved every fucking minute of watching them emerge from their cocoons of fear.

  Before I had been assigned to go undercover as Clare’s personal trainer, I’d seen at least a dozen images of her. Not once had she ever been smiling. After I’d met her, I realized that her smile was one of the world’s best-kept secrets, because if any man experienced one, they would wage wars to hold on to it. It was life changing.

  And my federally issued badge did not make me immune.

  As a man—and a decent fucking human being—I’d ached to help her from the start. She was beautiful; no one could deny that. But she had this glimmer in her defeated eyes that spoke to my soul in ways others could never understand. It was a subtle flicker that danced even during the day as the flames of abuse consumed her from the inside. The bruises didn’t have to be present physically. It was as obvious as a beacon shining from her ocean-blue eyes. Not even the greatest actress could hide that unmistakable inferno.

  The DEA hadn’t known much about Clare Noir at first. Walter had kept her under lock and key for years. It wasn’t until after Tessa had turned one that he’d started allowing her out of the house to go to the gym. Surveillance on her had started immediately, but it had taken years for us to develop enough of a case to send an agent in. And, even then, all we had known was that she was married to Atlanta’s enemy number one. My job had been to find out if she was enemy number two or, hopefully, bring her in as the final nail in the coffin in our case against Walter Noir.

  But, within weeks, I’d found myself with a different objective altogether.

  “One more, Clare,” I demanded, using one hand to help her lift the bar.

  She groaned, struggling to get it up before finally catching it in the cups.

  “Nice!” I praised halfheartedly.

  She’d shown up with a busted lip and a fresh bruise peeking out from under her tank top. I’d excused myself under the pretenses of making a call and then spent ten minutes pacing my office in an effort to keep myself from demanding she tell me what the fuck had happened.

  I needed to know she was okay.

  But, if I asked, she would have just said yes.

  The answer would have been no, especially not with marks like that.

  Scars on her wrists.

  Bruises on her thighs.

  A gash through her eyebrow.

  And there was not one fucking thing I could do to stop it from happening again without compromising the entire investigation.

  For almost a month, I’d been patiently working with her, but she hadn’t opened up yet. And it felt like acid to my soul each time I had to ignore what that scum was doing to her.

  “You do know I’m not trying to become a bodybuilder, right?” she smarted as she sat up on the bench, giving me a full view of the bite mark on the back of her shoulder.

  Gritting my teeth, I flexed my hands at my sides and pasted on a grin that I prayed passed as something more than a grimace. “Which is exactly why you’re only lifting the bar.”

  “Ten reps though? Walt’s going to lose his mind if I start putting on muscle.”

  “Fuck Walt,” I shot back before I could catch myself.

  She barked a laugh. “I can’t say I disagree. But you’re not the one who has to live with him.”

  I meandered toward the free weights and pretended to be interested in a set of fifteen-pounders. “You know you don’t have to live with him, either.”

  I chanced a glance up and found her eyes locked on mine in the mirror. “Unfortunately, that’s not true,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “I could help—”

  She cut me off. “So, what’s next, Luke? I feel like I need manly shoulders to go with my new manly biceps.”

  I chuckled, but it was completely for her benefit. I found not one thing humorous.

  When I faced her, I caught a glimpse of her dipping her mouth to her wrist.

  My forehead crinkled as I asked, “Did you just kiss your watch?”

  She smirked. “It’s 11:11. You have to kiss the clock or you don’t get a wish.”

  “You are aware that you’re twenty-eight years old, right?”

  “And?” She grinned, her eyes temporarily extinguishing the flame as they lit with pure, breathtaking happiness.

  No makeup, blond hair pulled back in a sweaty ponytail, gray jogging shorts with a matching pink-and-gray tank that exposed countless black-and-blue patches, and a smile so genuine that I didn’t just see it—I felt it deep inside my chest, in a place a subject of interest had no business being.

  Clearing my throat, I attempted to shake off my stupor. “Okay, well, what’d you wish for?”

  She curled her lip and gawked as though I were insane. “I can’t tell you that!”

  “Come on. You don’t seriously believe that crap.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “Um…I kiss the clock at 11:11 in order to make a wish. I think it’s fair to assume I absolutely believe that crap.” Another of her Earth-shaking grins assaulted me.

  At that moment, I didn’t care what the hell she’d wished for. I’d have made a deal with the devil to make it come true. And we were dealing with Walter Noir, so that might have been exactly what I had to do.

  I rounded her side of the bench and snagged my bottle of water off the floor. “Well, maybe we can swap. I had a birthday last week, so I have a wish of my own. I’m sure a trade wouldn’t be against the cosmic rules of wishes.”

  She dramatically clutched her chest. “Come on. That’s not fair! You know I won’t be able to resist the temptation of knowing big, bad Luke Cosgrove’s birthday wish.”

  I laughed at her blatant sarcasm before taunting, “Your loss, because it was a really badass one this year, too.”

  Her nose crinkled adorably as she tapped her chin in mock consideration. She might have been joking, but her curiosity was real, and eventually, it got the best of her.

  “Okay, fine. But you go first.” She anxiously rolled her fingers together, and I swear to God the woman was damn near giddy as she stared at me with rapt excitement.

  My birthday wasn’t actually for another month, and I hadn’t blown candles out since my little sister Maggie had turned fifteen and become too cool to bake her big brother birthday cakes anymore. I had no actual wish to share with her. But, if I could make her laugh, I’d happily forgo all birthday wishes for the rest of my life.

  I shrugged. “Fine with me, but just to be clear, I don’t have to pinkie promise or share my diary combination first, right? I mean, we are taking our BFF status to a whole new level sharing wishes and all.”

  “So funny,” she deadpanned. “Besides, if I thought you had a diary that consisted of anything more than a list of ways for you to torture your clients, I would have stolen it weeks ago. Combination or not.”

  We were supposed to be working out, but like so often in my time with Clare, it had dissolved into us standing around a piece of equipment, bullshit
ting about anything I could think of in order to keep her talking and out of her own head.

  “Come on, Cosgrove. Spill it,” she prompted impatiently.

  My gaze dropped to her mouth as I ached to correct her with my real name. What I wouldn’t have given to hear Heath tumble from those pink, crescent lips.

  I forced my attention from her mouth and said, “New jockstrap.”

  Her lips twisted and her shoulders sagged in disappointment. “You have got to be kidding me! That’s your amazing birthday wish?”

  I laughed and defended, “Hey! Do not underestimate the chafing a worn-out jockstrap can cause!”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, in that case, I hope it’s chafing you right now. You’re ridiculous, and that’s not fair. No way I’m spilling my wish in exchange for your gross underwear.”

  Using the end of my water bottle, I pointed at her. “Don’t you dare try to back out now, woman. We made a deal. I told you mine—you tell me yours.”

  “What are you, twelve?”

  “Asks the woman who kisses her watch at 11:11,” I retorted.

  “Nope. I’m not telling you.” She shook her head and started to walk away, but I absentmindedly reached up and caught her arm.

  She instantly froze at the contact, her face draining of all color.

  Guilt slammed into my ribs with an alarming velocity. I hadn’t been thinking. I never touched Clare, no matter how I longed to. And, sometimes, when she was laughing and cracking jokes, it became easy to forget how fragile she really was.

  “Shit.” I released her immediately. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she murmured softly, hurrying to the free weights.

  She kept her back to me, but as I stood, I could see her chest heaving in the mirror. Her brave mask made her face unreadable, but her body’s physical reaction to such an innocent touch told the real story.

  “Clare,” I apologized, striding toward her. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you, but I’d never hurt you.”

  She nodded, picking a set of weights up while avoiding my gaze. “Really, it’s okay. I’m just jumpy sometimes.”

  “You want to talk about it?” I asked cautiously, praying that she’d finally let me in.

  Her gaze slowly lifted to mine in the mirror, that fucking glimmer of pain once again dancing within. “I wished that I’ll catch 11:11 again tomorrow.”

  “What?” I took a step toward her.

  She blinked tears back as she held my gaze, her mask slipping away. The emptiness appearing in its place viciously sliced through me.

  With a shaky voice, she confessed, “I don’t really believe in wishes, but somehow, I’ve found myself in a situation where a silly wish is all I have left. If I’m lucky enough to catch 11:11 again tomorrow, it means we’ve survived another day.”

  My stomach lurched at her honesty. It was the first time she’d opened up even the slightest bit.

  And it wrecked me.

  I couldn’t have spoken around the lump in my throat if I’d tried. I didn’t try though; I just stared at her in absolute awe.

  Words couldn’t help her.

  But I could.

  That was the moment I officially threw in the towel as an undercover DEA agent. Fuck my job. Fuck the entire investigation. I wasn’t quitting on Clare Noir no matter how things ended. And, whether it was legal or not, I was going to find a way to make her safe.

  So she’d never need another goddamn wish again.

  Of course I’d wanted to help and protect her.

  But the way I felt for Clare had gotten way the fuck out of hand over the last few weeks.

  My job was to get her to talk about her life, find out all the dark, dirty secrets about Walter’s operations she’d hopefully slip and tell us. But, secretly, I was trying to figure out a way to get her the fuck out. So I started asking her about the past in hopes she had a family she could go back to.

  During those conversations, she told me about Clare.

  Not the wife of a criminal.

  Not the frightened victim of domestic abuse.

  Not even the mother.

  She gave me the real woman.

  And I drank her in like a man on the brink of dehydration.

  It was wrong on so many levels. She did not need me, the man who’d been sent to investigate her, to develop feelings for her. It’d happened anyway.

  And here I was, going to get her daughter while wishing I never had to let them go.

  “Hey, Tessi,” I cooed.

  She dove out of Roman’s lap and into my open arms. I caught her just before she fell.

  “Easy there,” I whispered into the top of her hair.

  When she’d seen me prowling up behind Walt and Clare while they’d been fighting in the driveway, she’d sprinted to me. That alone validated every repercussion I’d face with the DEA for having passed Roman information about the Noir family.

  In a lot of ways, I was just as selfish as Walter when it came to Clare. I wanted her as my own. But I’d never hurt her—hurt them. My heart had crossed the line as far as she was concerned, but I wouldn’t allow my body or my mind to follow suit.

  She’d had too much taken from her already—physically and emotionally.

  If I’d made any kind of move on her while she was at her weakest, that’s exactly what I’d have been doing—taking.

  For Clare, I’d give.

  I’d pack it all down. Make sure she got out of this alive and without any more scars than she’d already acquired. And then I’d walk away so she could find a better life. One where she smiled every day and graced the world with the masterpiece that was her laughter.

  “Where’s Mama?” Tessa asked, dropping her head to my shoulder, her little arms circling around my neck.

  By God, it was going to hurt like hell to let them go.

  I smoothed her unruly curls down. “Let’s go find her, sweet girl.”

  I’d been trying to get in touch with Roman for over an hour. He was late. Though it was the first time he’d been back to the office since we’d rekindled our relationship. So my idea of late might not have been his. It was creeping on eight, and the dinner I’d made was getting cold for the third time. I was about to give up rewarming it.

  “Alex,” I called to the bodyguard who had been assigned to me after one of Noir’s men had broken into our house.

  We still hadn’t been back to that place, but after a massive shopping spree, my old Victorian was starting to feel like a home. I’d been making a list of things I needed to retrieve from the old house, and Roman had been sending Devon, our other bodyguard, over to pick them up. I’m sure it was a pain in the ass, and I’d decided earlier that afternoon, when I’d had to strain spaghetti with a dishtowel, that we just needed to make the decision to move once and for all.

  I’d had no intentions of ever leaving our old house. We’d made so many memories there. But maybe a fresh start was exactly what we needed.

  Roman had only proposed the day before, but I suspected he’d have me at the courthouse as soon as it opened back up after the Thanksgiving holiday.

  Same man.

  New life together.

  Maybe a new house wouldn’t hurt, either.

  “Yeah, Elisabeth,” Alex answered, peeking his head out from the closed-off dining room that had been converted into the security room. He had a phone to his ear, but it was angled away from his mouth, which let me know I had his full attention.

  “You want some chicken parmesan?” I asked, tipping my head at the pot on the stove. “I mean…I use alfredo sauce, so it’s really just breaded chicken with white sauce and parmesan. But same thing.”

  Alex never refused a meal. Both guys ate a lot, but Alex was a machine. I’d never seen a human capable of downing that much food in one sitting and then, an hour later, come back for an equally impressive second serving. But I guessed, when you were six six and wore a suit of rock-hard muscles, you had to find fuel somewhere.

  “I’m good. Thanks though,”
he said, quickly closing the door.

  “Well, okay, then,” I mumbled to myself and bent to the bottom cabinet to grab a stack of Tupperware.

  He’d eat it eventually. Either that or four chickens had sacrificed their breasts for nothing.

  As I got the food situated, I struggled to keep my head straight and tell myself Roman wasn’t throwing himself back into the office twenty-four-seven the way he had before we’d divorced.

  This was different.

  Or so I chanted as I tidied the kitchen up and got ready to spend the rest of the night on the couch—alone, with a book. The familiarity settled heavily in my stomach.

  “Elisabeth?” Alex said, emerging from his room a little while later.

  I couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something in his tone that set me on alert.

  My heart sped as he closed the distance between us. Squatting in front of me on the couch, he extended his phone my way.

  I braced, not wanting to take it, and the wariness in his eyes told me he was bracing, too.

  “It’s Roman,” he said softly.

  A rush hit me, and I snatched the phone from his hand and lifted it to my ear. “Are you okay?”

  “Lis,” he breathed. It was a single syllable, but a palpable mixture of relief and anxiety poured through the phone.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, pushing to my feet, Alex following me up.

  “Everything’s fine. Calm down, baby.”

  “Then why are you calling me on Alex’s phone? And why do you sound like you’re about to drop some seriously bad news?”

  “Alex is gonna hang with you the rest of the night. I’m not sure when I can get home. And I don’t want you to be alone.”

  My insides coiled tighter. “Roman, please tell me what’s going on.”

  “We got her, Lis.”

  A shudder shook my shoulders. “Who?” God, please let it be who I’m hoping it is.

  “Tessa, baby.”

  My hand flew to my mouth, and tears pricked the backs of my lids. “You got her?”

  “Yeah. And Clare, too,” he added.

  “Oh God,” I whispered with burning lungs.

  “Listen to me. Everything is fine. They’re safe now. But they were a little banged up, so we’re up at the hospital.”