The Complete Retrieval Duet

by Martinez, Aly

  “I don’t know whose egg it was, but I know that wasn’t why he died. It was just one of those things,” I replied, glancing back to Roman, who was now studying me from across the room.

  Reading my mood, he tipped his head in question, but I shot him a smile to let him know I was good.

  I turned back to Clare. “Can I admit something so incredibly crazy that it’s going to make Kristen look like the definition of sanity?”

  Her lips tipped up at the corners, and she nodded eagerly.

  “If Walt did switch the eggs, I don’t hate him for it. I hate him for what he did to you. To Tessa. To everyone. But, if he gave me Tripp… I mean, it wasn’t ideal. Those months knowing we were going to lose him were the hardest of my entire life. But I got twelve minutes with a little boy I’d carried inside me for nine months. It killed me to let him go, but I wouldn’t give up that time with him for anything.”

  Her chin quivered as she asked, “Can I say something so incredibly selfish that it’s going to sound like I’m the worst person in the entire world?”

  I grinned. “Lay it on me.”

  Her tired gaze lifted to mine. “I’m glad it was y’all. I know that’s shitty, but I have no idea where I’d be if it weren’t for you guys and Heath. I’m sorry this is happening. I really am.” A tear finally breached her lid.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heath come unstuck from the jamb and stride toward her. She didn’t seem to notice and kept talking.

  “But I’m so selfishly thankful it was y’all. Does that make me a horrible person?”

  I laughed, fighting back tears of my own. “If it does, then we can be horrible people together.” I released her hand and clinked my empty glass on her beer.

  Heath stopped in front of us, concern crinkling his forehead. “You good, babe?”

  She shook her head and laughed, wiping the dampness off her face with the back of her hand. “I’m a horrible person. But so is Elisabeth, so I think it’s okay.”

  I bumped my shoulder with hers as I laughed even louder.

  It wasn’t really funny.

  It was sad. Terribly and tragically depressing.

  But, sometimes in life, your only options were to laugh or cry.

  And both Clare and I were way overdue for a laugh.

  She handed her beer off to Heath as she fell over on the couch, howling with laughter. I was right behind her, falling over to the other side, lost in hysterics.

  And we laughed.

  And laughed.

  And laughed some more.

  Until the entire room laughed right along with us.

  There would be plenty of time for crying later.

  But, for one night, we drank beer and wine, spent time with family, ordered pizza, and pretended it was all so perfectly normal.

  “Honey,” I breathed, threading my fingers in the top of Heath’s hair, his head between my legs.

  I’d woken up in his arms as he had been carrying me from the bed beside Tessa, into his room across the hall. He’d wasted no time before snatching the panties down my legs and dropping to his knees.

  “I want you inside me,” I begged.

  “You come on my mouth and I’ll give you my cock.”

  I groaned. It wasn’t exactly a hardship; it was, however, early. The morning sun was just starting to peek through the windows, and it wouldn’t be long before Tessa woke up.

  It had been almost three weeks since the DNA results and the day Heath and I first had sex. Though, for about a week after that, it had been the only time Heath and I had sex.

  The following day, Heath had told me that he wanted me to see a therapist before anything else happened between us. He was also concerned that we hadn’t used a condom. I could see his point on the condom, but there was not one thing a therapist was going to say that was going to sway me from wanting to be with Heath.

  And she didn’t.

  After my first appointment with the doctor they had brought in to the house to see me and Tessa, I came skipping out of the door, informing him, “She said we were both consenting adults, and if I want to have sex with you, I can.”

  He arched an eyebrow and asked, “Did you just spend an hour getting permission to fuck me?”

  I shrugged. That wasn’t the only thing we’d discussed, but it was one of the higher points.

  He glowered and then shoved me back inside.

  An hour later, I reemerged with red-rimmed eyes, emotionally exhausted.

  He grinned and hugged me, muttering, “Thank fuck.”

  I didn’t give up on my attempts to get him back into bed though. For a week, I tortured him with nighties and cornered him with kisses every chance I could get him alone. I never felt more alive than I was when I was in his arms—naked or clothed.

  Though, the night I snuck into the shower with him, I decided I definitely liked him better naked. He wanted me. I knew he did. He was just trying to do right by me. But right for me was just being with him. So, as I pressed him against the wall in the shower, he finally relented with a sexy smirk and a, “Jesus Christ, woman.”

  And it was a really good thing, because when we were together, he made me forget the rest of the madness swirling around us.

  And I desperately needed more of that.

  The same day I started seeing the therapist, I started working with the DEA to take Walter down. In exchange for complete immunity for my part in any of his crimes, I spent days upon days answering questions and filling them in on everything I knew about his operations.

  Tomlinson wouldn’t allow Heath in the room while they questioned me, and I feared his head was going to explode the first day when I came out crying. By the second day, he relaxed a fraction, but he was always sitting in a chair on the other side of the door when I came out, an exhausted and worried look painting his handsome face.

  But that was then…and now was now.

  And, in the now, it was Christmas Eve and his mouth was between my legs, his tongue making tight circles over my sensitive clit.

  “Yes!” I cried, arching off the bed.

  “Hurry, babe,” he ordered roughly, his hand sliding up my stomach to my breasts.

  He thoroughly worked me with his mouth, sucking and licking as he drew me to the edge. But it was his skilled fingers at my nipples, plucking and rolling, that sent me over.

  I came hard, long, and beautifully.

  “Heath, honey,” I moaned when he continued eating away at me. I squirmed beneath him, too sensitive post-orgasm but still wanting more. “You promised me your cock.”

  His head lifted, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leaned to the nightstand to retrieve a condom. “You say the word cock again and we’re not gonna make it that far.”

  I spoke around a wide smile as I said, “Cock.” I enunciated each letter while propping my feet on the bed and allowing my knees to fall open.

  He sucked in a breath through his teeth, his eyes dipping to my core. “If I hadn’t woken up this morning with dreams of your pussy, I’d fuck that mouth of yours.”

  “We could do both,” I suggested, reaching out for him.

  He grinned as he tore the condom open, the muscles on his stomach rippling as he worked it down his thick shaft. “Christmas is tomorrow, Clare. We can do both then.” He winked, and my stomach fluttered with the excitement of “both” more than any gifts under the tree.

  Once he had the condom in place, he kept his feet on the floor and bent his tall frame over me to take my mouth in a deep and wet kiss, the taste of my release lingering on his lips.

  “What do you need, Clare?” he asked against my mouth.

  I replied with the same but no less accurate answer as always. “You.”

  “Then take it,” he rasped.

  I reached between us and lined us up, and then Heath took it from there.

  He fucked me hard and fast, but it was Heath, so it was also loving and gentle.

  His hands were in my hair, his teeth nipping at my neck, his p
owerful body pinning me to the mattress.

  Orgasm number two built within me. His pace quickened as I locked my legs at the ankle around his back, using my heels to urge him deeper.

  A request he more than fulfilled.

  As the first wave hit me, I raked my nails down his back and he quickly covered my mouth with his own to swallow my cry. A few strokes later, I swallowed his growl as he found his own release.

  Then I took his weight as he collapsed on top of me. His mouth went to my ear as his early morning scruff scratched my cheek.

  “Merry Christmas Eve, babe.”

  Isn’t that the damn truth. “Merry Christmas Eve, Heath.”

  “Mama! Luke made Christmas bacon!” Tessa exclaimed as I entered the kitchen.

  I laughed, going straight to her and kissing her forehead. “His name’s Heath, baby,” I reminded her for the millionth time.

  “No. He Luke,” she giggled before chomping down on a piece of bacon.

  “Sweet girl, you can call me whatever you want,” Heath said from the stove. “You want some, babe?”

  I walked his way, snagging a coffee mug from the cabinet before pressing up on my toes and planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “What’s Christmas bacon?”

  “It from a reindeer,” Tessa answered behind me.

  I playfully lifted my eyebrows. “We’re eating Rudolph?”

  He stared down at me with a bright smile. “Nah. It’s just regular bacon, but she told me she didn’t like it. Reindeer bacon is soooo much tastier, apparently.”

  I laughed again. “In that case, bacon sounds ah-mazing.”

  “Oh good. I saved Dancer just for you.” He kissed me again.

  I went to the coffee maker and poured a cup. “Where are Roman and Elisabeth?”

  A loud sizzle filled the kitchen as he added more bacon to the pan. “They went out to grab a few last-minute things for tomorrow. Oh, that reminds me. The last of the packages”—his gaze flashed to Tessa—“arrived. We’re all set for tonight.”

  I smiled, stirring milk and sugar into my coffee.

  Tessa and I hadn’t left the house since we’d arrived almost a month earlier. It wasn’t safe, not while Walt was still out there. So, with Christmas fast approaching, Heath had insisted we go online and do some shopping for Tessa. I felt like a mooch with no way to so much as buy gifts for my daughter, so I added exactly three items to the online cart.

  Heath frowned and then took the computer from my lap, adding approximately two dozen toys before pulling his credit card from his wallet and buying them all. I bit my lip, overwhelmed with gratitude.

  He kissed my temple and pulled me into a hug, muttering, “I’ve got you, Clare. Both of you.”

  And he did, so I sucked in a shaky breath and let it go.

  Then I made him the biggest, best chicken masala he’d ever tasted that night for dinner.

  It was a double win because Heath hated Elisabeth’s food. It wasn’t that her food was necessarily bad, but she was such a picky eater that she put odd flairs on every dish. Meatloaf with mustard. Pot roast with weird white gravy, and gyros made with beef instead of lamb. I was more of a traditionalist, and not to brag, but there were never leftovers.

  I tried to help Elisabeth as much as I could. I’d spent hours weeding, pruning, and trimming her flowerbeds to get them back into decent shape. And I’d promised her that, as soon as spring came, I’d help her plant flowers. I also did my best to earn my keep when it came to the house. While we were relatively neat people, nine of us were living under one roof if you included Alex, Devon, Jude, and Ethan, who often rotated through. Quarters got cramped sometimes, but no one had killed anyone yet. I chalked that up as a success.

  “Do you think we have enough wrapping paper?” I asked him, lifting my mug to my lips for that first glorious sip of coffee.

  His attention remained on the frying pan as he replied, “I think we have enough paper to wrap the state of Georgia. An entire rainforest will be crying in the morning.”

  I giggled, and he aimed a panty-drenching grin in my direction, some of his hair falling over his forehead and into his eyes.

  “You need a haircut. Want me to do it? I bet Roman has some clippers or something. I could clean up the sides.”

  He twisted his lips and flipped the bacon in the pan. “You saying my hair looks like shit?”

  “No. I’m offering to do you a favor. Considering you’ve kind of weighted your side of the scales, I owe you at least a million favors by now.”

  He scowled at me. “There are no scales with us.”

  I set my coffee on the counter and slid up behind him, looping my arms around his hips and resting my cheek between his shoulder blades. “There are always scales, Heath. A haircut won’t even them, but it’ll be a start.”

  He shoved the bacon off the burner. Then he turned in my arms and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “You know how to cut hair?”

  “Yep. I grew up poor and in a shitty trailer park—not to be confused with the good trailer park.” I grinned. “When I was twelve, I got my dad’s clippers and started offering five-dollar haircuts to make some money…to, ya know, eat. Well, the good thing about being poor in a shitty trailer park is that everyone’s poor. Five dollars a pop was a steal. I had to start taking appointments.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You any good?”

  “I am now. I was shit at first. But hey, it was five bucks. No one complained.”

  His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “You said you were a waitress when you met Noir. Why weren’t you doing hair if you’re so good?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t have the money for school. I only graduated high school because it was free and it kept me busy. I had to get out and get a job. Higher education wasn’t a luxury I could afford.”

  His hand glided up my back, squeezing the back of my neck as he asked, “Did you like it? Cutting hair, I mean.”

  I squinted one eye and looked over his shoulder, trying to remember what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Ummm…I liked the money. I liked that I was good at it. I liked that I was able to give people something they normally wouldn’t have been able to afford. But no, I don’t think I necessarily liked doing it.”

  He gave my neck another squeeze. “And what do you think you would have enjoyed doing?”

  “I don’t know. When I was a kid, I always wanted to open a little garden shop. Nothing big, but one where little old ladies could pop in and talk about what flowers were in season while their husbands bought hoses and ugly gnomes.”

  I got another lip twitch, but this time, it was followed by a lip touch.

  He glanced up at Tessa before allowing his hand to slide down to my ass. “That’s how you balance the scales, Clare. You open that sexy mouth and use it to tell me about yourself. I don’t need favors. I need you.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Heath’s blanket of warmth didn’t just wrap around me.

  It enveloped me.

  Head to toe.

  Mind and soul.

  My vision swam, and he brought his lips back down for another lip touch. “No crying. Your Christmas bacon’s ready.”

  “I’m scared,” I admitted.

  His hands flinched. “Why?”

  “Because, if you keep being this sweet, there is a really good chance I’m going to fall in love with you.” I was only half joking. I was already in love with Heath; that falling crap was history.

  He chuckled. “It’s about damn time you caught up.”

  “Caught up?” I squeaked.

  His shoulders shook as he dragged me into his chest. “Babe, I’ve been falling in love with you for months. It’s not exactly a secret. Tomlinson threatened to fire me over it last week.”

  My heart came to a screeching halt. And not because Heath was going to get fired for being with me.

  But because Heath had been falling in love—with me.

  For months.

  Plural.

  Misreading my reactio
n, he stroked up and down my back. “Don’t worry, babe. I assured him we weren’t sleeping together. Which, technically, we aren’t, considering you sleep with Tessa every night and I sleep across the hall.” He winked. “But, with that said, I should probably reevaluate my career choices sooner rather than later. At this point, I got one foot in the grave with you.”

  “Death isn’t romantic,” I informed him because it was either cry or be a smartass.

  He laughed and kissed the top of my head. “It is when I’m ninety years old and doing it after spending fifty-plus years with you.”

  Oh. My. God. I could not handle this conversation. Like, at all. I was in love with Heath, unquestionably. But I was struggling to see why he was falling for me. My redeeming qualities at the moment were spending his money to buy my daughter, who coincidentally wasn’t even mine, Christmas presents all while he spent his days making sure my current husband didn’t kill me or, worse, him.

  I cleared the lump from my throat and said, “I think I need that reindeer bacon now.”

  He squeezed me tight and murmured, “Okay, babe. Whatever you need.”

  But what he failed to see was that I really needed a time machine so I could go back in time and track him down before all of this mess started. But I didn’t figure he had one handy or he would have already used it to do the same.

  “Pass the red paper,” I said to Clare as we sat on the living room floor, wrapping presents.

  The house was dark, Tessa was asleep upstairs, and Roman and Elisabeth had called it a night after they’d dumped an entire toy store of flawlessly wrapped gifts under the tree. And that was on top of the half of a toy store I’d already bought, which were definitely not flawlessly wrapped. Clare had keeled over laughing when I’d wrapped the first one and used only one piece of tape. But Tessa was a kid. I was banking on the fact that she didn’t give a damn how they looked as long as there was something pink and glittery inside.

  “I feel like we need to donate half of this stuff,” she replied, passing both the tape and the wrapping paper.

  I cocked an eyebrow and picked up the twenty-seventh, yet somehow different, baby doll I’d wrapped that evening. “Only half?”