Chapter Five
“It’s okay, Michael.” Hope’s hands covered his, her lips brushed against his cheek when she spoke. Her hands stroked his hair. “Shh…please…stop this. I’m here. Look at me.”
“Get away from me.” He opened his eyes. “I’m going to hurt you. I don’t want to. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“I do. I know what’s happening.” She kissed his forehead again. “Trust me, okay? I’m here.”
How could she know? Breath ripped through his chest. Heartbeat hammered inside his skeleton and reverberated through his bloodstream. He didn’t trust himself.
“I know what you need,” she said. “It comes back to respecting the officer in the room, right? You’re frustrated. You need to be treated like a man instead of a patient.” She peeled his hands away from his face. “Look at me. We’re all okay. Everyone’s okay.”
He threaded his fingers through hers. “I lost it.”
“Yeah, you did.” She flashed him a grin that didn’t quite mask the fear in her eyes. “Let’s not forget that you’re a Marine capable of killing someone with your bare hands. If you wanted to get our attention, you got it.”
He shoved his hands through her hair. God, he loved this woman.
“Let me handle security,” Becky said from where she picked up the things he had thrown. “They’re in the hallway. He could get kicked out of here for this.”
“We’ll be okay.” Hope stood, hands on hips, and surveyed the situation. “We’re going to be okay. We need some time alone. It’s been a long day for all of us. We’ll be okay.”
“Who are you to him? Girlfriend? Is that it?” Becky narrowed her eyes and looked between the two. “Why are you inserting yourself into something that seems to be none of your business? This morning his parents insist on calling you and now here you are, magically appearing and calming the beast. What’s the story?”
“The story is that you need to go and we need time alone.” Hope shoved her hands through her hair. “I dropped Dalton off with his parents who are still outside. I think it’s best if you tell them to go home. He needs time with me right now.”
“With you? Are you giving me orders now?” Becky asked.
“Yes, I am.” Hope looked over her shoulder at him. “Tell her I’m right.”
He nodded, unable to find words adequate enough to say that he needed her more than he needed anyone or anything at this precise moment.
Becky muttered something about the whole world going insane as she left them alone, firmly closing the door behind her.
Hope sat on the arm of the sofa and smoothed her hands over her jean-clad thighs before looking at him. “Does this happen often? This rage?”
He looked away from her. The rage is what he feared. He’d heard the stories of discharged soldiers killing their spouses in moments of insanity. Maybe it wasn’t the norm, but it happened. He knew the statistics. He’d always had such control, but he wasn’t sure he trusted himself anymore.
“Michael? Is this normal for you?”
“No.” He gripped the arms of his chair. “But it’s been a long time coming.”
With a nod, she blew out a long sigh. “What triggered this blow up then? Why now? Was it this morning’s major drama over you going outside on your own? Being in Denver? Me interfering? What?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. The memory of Callie looking at him like he was a piece of trash started the drumming in his skull again.
“I’m not your problem; none of this is your problem,” he muttered.
With another long sigh, she slid onto his lap, moved her hands over his shoulders and pressed her forehead against his. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her about Callie, confess how he wanted out of here, beg her to take him home with her, admit how much he’d missed talking to her. He gripped the arms of his chair until he thought he would rip them off.
“I understand losing control, trust me,” she said.
“You have no idea. None. You should leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Hmm...You always used the work thing when you wanted me to leave you alone, when you had a lot on your mind. See? You’re not as changed as you think.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stand seeing the knowledge in her eyes. “I lost it, doesn’t that scare you? I could hurt you by accident, you know.”
“I love you. For better or worse, remember?” She kissed him tenderly on the lips. “Come home to me. Please. Come home to me.” She kissed him again. “Please. Stop all of this so you can come home to me.”
Anger morphed into passion. Hands moved to her back. He ground his mouth against hers. When she sank against him, he moaned deep in his throat. Her hands wrapped around his neck. Mouth opened to him as he deepened the kiss. Hot. Wet. He yanked her blouse from her jeans. He craved her skin.
“You have no idea what I want to do to you,” he said.
“Oh, I know exactly what you want to do to me because I want the same thing.” She yanked his T-shirt over his head while he fumbled with undoing her bra. “You’re the sexiest man alive. I’ve really missed touching you.”
“Do you really want me? Like this? Don’t lie to me.” His hands closed over her breasts. God, she felt like heaven. He looked in her eyes, saw them darken with passion and knew the truth. She wanted him. Miracles did happen.
“You know I do.” She smoothed her hands over his shoulders. Her mouth followed where her hands roamed, over his neck, his shoulders, his chest. “I love you, Michael.”
His fists wrapped in her hair, pulled her closer. “I missed you touching me, missed touching you.”
Her mouth returned to his with a fervor that he matched. He wanted more than groping in his chair. He wanted her naked against the counter with his head between her thighs and his fingers inside her. He wanted her naked and gasping his name.
And then they tipped backward. Whack, his skull knocked against the floor.
A tangle of wheelchair, limbs and clothes, they looked into each other’s eyes and laughed harder than either of them had laughed in months.
“I guess making out in a wheelchair isn’t a good idea,” she muttered against his cheek.
“Unless we have the brake on.” He held her against him when she tried to move. Tangled or not, he liked her naked chest against his. “I can’t believe I’m laughing about this.”
“I’m glad there were no witnesses.”
“How do you do it? One minute I’m a lunatic, the next I’m laughing with you.”
“Must be the meds they have you on, you’re not in your right mind.”
“Stay here for a minute. Don’t move,” he said when she propped up on an elbow.
“Are you hurt?” She kissed the side of his neck.
“No.” He closed his eyes and held her tight. “Just don’t move.”
“I love you.” Her arms snaked around his shoulders and held him as tightly as he held her. “Let me back in. You know you want to...let me back in.”
“I’m really screwed up.” He buried his face in her hair.
“I noticed.”
“I lost control.” He combed his hands through her hair. “Aren’t you scared of me?”
“No.” She rose up on her elbows, her hair falling around her face and her smile as wicked as sin itself. “I am turned on, frustrated, and excited by you…but I’m not scared of you.” She kissed him again while her right hand curved over his erection. “Guess what I found?’
He smiled against her lips. “It hurts like hell.” “Which means you feel more than you wanted me to know. My man’s still got skills.” Her teeth caught his lower lip. Her eyes glowed with challenge. “And if you feel something, then Becky’s right. You can—”
“Stop. Don’t.” He held her face between his hands. How could he explain that, erection or not, he couldn’t move like he used to, couldn’t walk, run or toss her onto the bed an
d grind himself into her like he used to.
“What is it?” She braced both hands against the floor on either side of his head and looked at him until he answered.
“I have a long way to go. I don’t know how to…it’s just an erection. I can’t…I’m not…you know.”
“Stop telling me what you’re not.” Her mouth lowered to his again. Lips moved tenderly over his. “You need to trust me, trust yourself, trust Becky. We can do this.”
Spasms ripped through his chest. He arched his back and bit back a scream. His hands squeezed her until she winced.
“What’s wrong? Oh, my God, I hurt you, didn’t I? Damn it.” She scrambled off of him while another spasm shot through his back and seized his neck. “Okay, okay. This is bad.”
She looked between him on the floor with the wheelchair pitched precariously beneath his legs. She pulled her blouse on without the bra and kneeled next to him as yet another spasm took hold. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t tell her that this happened all of the time, couldn’t erase the fear on her face.
“I need to get someone, get help,” she said.
He shook his head no. He had caused enough trouble and knew that this situation wouldn’t help. “You.”
“Me?” Eyes widened with surprise. “That’s not a good idea, babe. I’m not qualified for this.”
“You.” Burning pain ripped up his spinal column and erupted in the back of his head.
“Okay, me. I can do this. I’ve done harder things, right? I mean...fine. I can do this.” Hands moved over his chest as she surveyed the situation. She crawled around him and grabbed his shoulders. With a yank, she pulled him free of the chair.
He couldn’t help her because spasm after spasm seized up his entire torso. Helpless, he watched her move around him muttering about being a walking disaster and getting in trouble and being kicked out.
Chair upright, she stood over him, hair a wild mess, and the curve of her breasts visible beneath the open blouse. He was certain he’d had a fantasy like this once or twice.
“I should just get the hell out of here before Becky comes back and let you explain this yourself. Can you help me at all? What’s happening? Did I do this?”
“No.” Despite the agony, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Lift me. C’mon. You’re always saying you can do anything, right?”
“I did it before.” She grinned and squatted next to him. “Of course then we were dodging bullets and fleeing for our lives. I had the strength of a thousand men.”
“Becky’s pretty scary.”
“True. Okay, let’s try. I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“You won’t.” He squeezed his eyes closed when another spasm ripped his remaining strength from him.
Legs on either side of his hips, she lifted while he pushed against the floor with his free hand. Somehow he ended up half on the chair and half on top of her. Both breathing hard, they disentangled their various limbs before he finally sat in the chair again.
She sank to the ground and rested her head against his knee. “We need to get you to the bed, right?”
He couldn’t say anything as the fist of the Devil himself squeezed his chest in two.
“Yep. Bed.” She pushed his chair into the bedroom. “Thank God for hospital beds, at least right now, right?” She smoothed her hands over his face. “I’m going to get someone. A nurse. Someone with pain pills. You don’t need me right now.”
He snagged her hand when she would have pulled away. “You can do it. C’mon, babe. Don’t quit on me now.”
With a muttered curse, she looped her arms beneath his shoulders again. Together they maneuvered him onto the bed. She sat next to him, head bent, hair shielding her face. She buttoned her shirt while catching her breath.
“I’m a lot of work. I told you so,” he muttered.
“Yeah, well, making out in the chair is a bad idea.” Eyes sad, she looked at him. “I’m not scared off. Whether you’re throwing things, falling on the floor or telling me to go to hell, you do not scare me.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Well, maybe a little bit.” She grinned before standing up. “Thank God I have a hot tub. I need a good soak after that work out you just gave me.”
“I wish it could have been a different kind of work out,” he said without thinking.
“Oh, that will come. Trust me.” She pointed a finger at him. “I’ll be back.”
“You’re leaving?” he asked as another spasm tore him in half. His fingers curled into the sheets at his side.
And then she was gone. Just like that. As if she’d only been a dream.
Chapter Six
Cold wind slapped against her face as she walked toward her jeep. Storm clouds gathered over the mountains on the horizon. Sleet fell sporadically onto the ground and she wondered if Michael would use that as an excuse to avoid life. Spring in Colorado meant unpredictability, which pretty much summed up his attitude.
She zipped her leather jacket and tightened the yellow scarf around her neck. Only a few other vehicles occupied the parking lot. She scanned the perimeter out of habit as tiny pinpricks of awareness stirred at the back of her neck. With a chill that had nothing to do with the weather, she remembered what the senator had said to her last night. She stopped short when she noticed the white envelope beneath the windshield wipers of her Jeep.
With another look over her shoulder, she noticed Devon’s Prius driving into the spot beside her. She pulled the envelope free. Heavy. She raised her eyebrow at Devon before once again glancing around the parking lot.
“Weird,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Did you get a present? Open it.” Devon shifted her weight from foot to foot and pulled her sleeves over her hands. “Looks like it’s going to storm.”
“What are you doing here, Dev? And how did you know I’d be here?”
“You told me you were going to be here.” Devon frowned at her. “Remember? Family emergency, going to New Horizons. Is Becky okay?”
She had no recollection of saying anything like that to Devon.
“I need a good eight hours of sleep, but I’d settle for two.” Rattled from the day’s events, she rubbed her fingers against her forehead and forced herself to focus when all she wanted to do was curl up and slip into a drug-induced coma. “So what came up? Get a lead about the accident this morning?”
“Open the envelope first. How can you be so patient?”
“Practice,” she said. “A lot of practice.”
With a firm shake of the envelope, pictures scattered onto the hood of the Jeep. Pictures of women and children huddled into the back of a van, no room to move. Dirty faces peered out from the dark. Children with haunted eyes. Women with broken spirits chained to beds. Human trafficking. Modern day slavery. Dangerous business.
“Look at these two.” Devon held out two pictures with mountain backdrops. She pointed at the rock outcroppings with a river running through them. “I know this place…I swear.”
“Me, too. It’s familiar.” She captured her lower lip between her teeth.
The valley looked familiar, like she’d been there once. Jagged peaks.
“What are you thinking?” Devon squinted, fingers tapping on the hood. “You look bothered.”
“Why us? Why not the police or the FBI?” Her mind clicked away possible scenarios. “I don’t like it. People died this morning in that wreck. Why us?”
“You’re famous whether you want to admit it or not, It Girl.” Devon leaned her shoulder against hers. “Maybe whoever is doing this thought you’d take them seriously, get them the publicity they need.”
“And the FBI wouldn’t?” A bad feeling shivered over her skull.
“How many people used to watch you report from Afghanistan and then on Dateline? People know you. You’re less scary than the FBI.”
“Less scary, hmm?” Her gaze drifted toward the New Horizons Institute. “I really don’t like being followed. Where I
go on my off time is my business, regardless of who wants help for whatever reason. Stop calling me It Girl. I hate that.”
“I know you do.” Devon scooped up the photographs and stuffed them back into the envelope. “This is getting exciting.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She grinned despite herself.
Maybe Michael wasn’t the only one who was a bit crazy these days. The thrill of a good story energized her in ways that no drug could equal. She fingered the picture of the women chained to beds surrounded by filth. The thought of them out there somewhere--maybe close to Denver--motivated her to do what she did best, root out the truth.
“Look at this.” Devon handed her a note. “Someone left this for us at the front desk at work. Security camera didn’t get a clear shot and the receptionist couldn’t remember any details.”
“Someone wants to meet us in City Park tomorrow night.” She sighed at the time, midnight. Why did questionable characters always want to meet at midnight? Between the early morning wake up call and the pseudo-emergency with Michael, her patience was shot. “Weird. Why City Park? Why tomorrow night? Why not now? Why the games? Do you think it’s the same person who left us this envelope or someone else? Why do they want to meet us? They don’t say why or who they are in the note. Could be a set-up.”
“Are you talking to me or yourself? I can’t tell.” Devon looked through the scattered pictures with a frown. “Your call. Do we go or not go?”
“I came here to lay low, you know, not do anything dangerous.” She looked at the entrance to the institute and thought of Michael. Leaving him in agony had been hard. She’d wanted to stay but had felt useless. Maybe the only thing she was good at was digging up a story because so far she sucked at being a wife. “I need a vacation that involves a hammock and tequila shots.”
“Cabo. Let’s go when this is done. Pick up some hot men.”
“Sounds so simple, doesn’t it?” She couldn’t remember the last time her life had been simple. Mykonos maybe? Sunsets, ouzo, friends and a man who loved her. Greece. Another life. “I need a nap. I picked up some melatonin and tequila on my way over here. We have another live shot at six, though, so I suppose it needs to wait.”