Chapter Eleven

Leah jolted awake, torn from the same horrible dream of blood spilling into sand that she’d had for nearly a year. She could still hear the bang of a phantom gun echoing around in her head.

Danny’s death.

She didn’t know the details. Had never asked for them. But her lack of knowledge didn’t stop her brain from churning out images while she slept.

It had been a long while since she had one of these nightmares. Months, in fact. Current events, along with the approaching one-year anniversary of losing him, had sparked her imagination again.

Maybe it was time she knew the truth. Maybe she should ask what really happened on that beach on Martinique.

Leah sat up and tried to orient herself, but for one heart-stopping minute nothing looked familiar. The wall-less room with high, peaked ceiling. The huge bed with the silk drapes, the sofa with its satin cushions and pillows. The large, stone soaker tub. The kimono she wore.

As sleep faded, awareness seeped back. She was at Tucker Quentin’s villa in Bali.

With Marcus.

And he had walked away after she shared her most damning secret.

She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have kept her mouth shut and let him go on thinking that night had been a fluke. She hadn’t meant to tell him how often she thought about it, but she’d been overtired and her emotions too raw and jagged. When she’d opened her mouth, the truth had come tumbling out without her brain’s go-ahead.

Way to make a bad situation worse.

The kimono had slipped off her shoulders in her sleep, exposing her breasts. Frustrated with this whole sideshow of a week, she shrugged it back on, retied the belt, and then jumped out of bed. She looked through the bag Quentin had provided and chose a loose button-up top and khaki capris. She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and then faced the door. Drew a breath to fortify herself.

Unlike Marcus, she wasn’t one to avoid the tough stuff. And facing him this morning was definitely the tough stuff.

She stepped out into the garden and shielded her eyes from the rising sun with one hand. She hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the beauty of their surroundings the night before. Large paper lanterns surrounded the double doors of the master suite. The garden beyond was a lush jumble of green. To the left were the steps leading up to the living room. She saw Marcus’s bag sitting on one of the chairs, and his laptop open on the coffee table, but he wasn’t there. To the right, the massive expanse of a pool sparkled blue in the sunlight. Beyond the pool was another lotus pond, with a walkway branching out to four smaller versions of the master suite. She assumed those buildings were the guest rooms, where Marcus had slept. Maybe he was still sleeping? She wouldn’t be surprised.

She’d passed out shortly after he left her and had slept for almost twelve hours, but it was still early. She didn’t know what time it was exactly, but judging by the rising sun, she guessed around six thirty a.m. If he had stayed up late, he might very well still be in bed.

Okay, then. She could put off facing him for a little while. She’d find her way to the kitchen, make coffee, and take him some as a peace offering.

She walked up the steps to the living room and found that, no, Marcus wasn’t still sleeping. He’d very obviously slept here on the couch. The pillow was still dented from his head. On the coffee table next to his laptop and phone was the bottle of tequila and an empty glass turned upside down. She winced at the sight. He drank too much, but if she said anything about it, he’d shut down on her.

She picked up the throw crumpled at the foot of the couch and looked around, but still didn’t see him in either the TV room to the left or the kitchen to the right. She folded the throw, then continued on to the kitchen. He was already up somewhere in the villa, but she bet he’d still appreciate a coffee if he’d continued drinking after she’d gone to bed.

The coffee bar in the kitchen was like something found in a high-end espresso shop. Luckily, she’d worked as a barista before getting her real estate license. She brewed a strong, black coffee for Marcus and then indulged in a latte with whipped cream for herself.

Calories didn’t count when you were on the run from bad guys.

As the espresso brewed, she pulled out the phone Marcus had left for her last night. By her best guess, it was afternoon in Los Angeles, and she was dying to talk to her children. She dialed Regina’s cell phone number from memory, and as she listened to the rings, she hoped Regina would answer the unfamiliar number. It switched to voicemail and she had a moment of panic. What if something had happened to them?

No. Stop. She drew a breath, let it out slowly. Nothing had happened. The danger was focused on her, and as long as she stayed away, her babies would be fine.

She forced some cheer into her voice. “Regina, it’s me. My phone is gone, but you can reach me at this new number. How are the kids? Call as soon as you can.”

She hung up, then finished with the coffee and took both mugs back to the poolside garden. If Marcus had slept in the living room, maybe he’d gone to one of the guest rooms to use the bathroom and clean up. She started to walk past the pool, but then noticed movement in the two-story building at the other end.

The downstairs area looked like a spa with two massage tables. She continued past the tables up the stairs to the second floor and was met with a breathtaking view of the sunrise over the ocean. Surfers already out looking for the best wave dotted the water in a bobbing line.

Marcus sat on the terrace railing, his back to the wall, one leg drawn up to his chest, the other dangling off the edge. His chest and feet were bare, but he wasn’t relaxed. Instead, he reminded her of a panther perched in a tree just waiting for the right moment to pounce on his prey.

At the creak of her foot on the top step, he looked at her. And suddenly, she felt like the prey he’d been waiting on.

“Uh.” She faltered, momentarily forgetting why she’d sought him out. Then the feel of the hot coffee warming her hand through the mug reminded her. She held it out to him. “I thought you’d like coffee. I made it strong.”

He accepted the mug and gazed out over the water again. “Thanks.”

She leaned against the railing and tested her latte. Mm. Perfection. “Beautiful sunrise.”

He grunted noncommittally and she realized that, duh, he hadn’t come up here to watch the sunrise. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded toward the surfers. “You want to be out there in that lineup.”

“It’s why I came to Indonesia.” He took a drink from his mug, then leaned his head back against the wall and gazed out over the surfers again. “I was dying, killing myself slowly, and I didn’t care. I had to leave, Leah. I knew you needed me, but I couldn’t stay. I was no use to you in the state I was in. It took a long time for me to feel human again.” He motioned to the surfers with his mug. “Sitting out there on a board with nothing but water around me, waiting for a wave, it was a balm. It helped me cope when it felt like the grief was chewing me up from the inside out. I might not have survived otherwise.”

Leah took a drink to help swallow down the sudden surge of bitterness. “I didn’t have that luxury.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“It’s not fair that you got to run away. It’s not fair that you left me to deal with the fallout on my own. I hated you for it.”

“You had a right to.”

“I couldn’t escape. I had to live with it every day. I had to look at my kids missing their dad every day, and I couldn’t even explain to them what happened or why he was gone.”

Marcus met her gaze. “You told me you didn’t want to know.”

Her heart was beating too hard and her hand shook as she set her mug on the railing. “I think not knowing has been worse. I dream about it. About how it could’ve happened.”

“Knowing’s not any better, doll. I dream about it, too. In vivid, gory detail.”

“Still.” She traced the rim of her mug with her finger. “I think it’s time. Will you tell me?”

Marcus didn’t respond right away. He gazed out over the ocean, but this time, she knew he wasn’t seeing the sunrise or the surfers. He was looking into the past, dragging up painful memories because she’d asked him to.

“We thought the mission was over,” he said finally. “We thought we’d won. We’d freed the hostages from the hotel, the bad guys were dead or had given up. We lost one of the hostages—a spy in our training program killed her before we breached the hotel—and Jean-Luc was shot but he was going to be okay. Everyone else was safe. We were just wrapping up, cleaning up, debriefing…and then the shit hit the fan before we realized there was any shit or even a fan.”

She pictured it all so clearly. Did she want to hear the rest? Because she’d picture that, too, and maybe Marcus was right. Maybe the unknown was better, but she couldn’t live with it anymore. “What happened?”

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

“Yes.” She made sure there was no hesitation in her answer.

Marcus was silent for a beat. “I helped load Jean-Luc into an ambulance, then went looking for Danny. I found him sitting on some lounge chairs on the beach with Lanie Delcambre, watching the sunrise. I started toward them, and Lanie must have heard me because she glanced back. I’ll never forget the expression of horror that crossed her face. She shouted at me to get down. I dropped to the sand, but I felt the bullet go by. It must have missed me by centimeters.”

Leah closed her eyes because, dammit, that hurt to hear. If it had hit Marcus, she’d have Danny now—but then Marcus would be dead. Danny wouldn’t have taken the loss of the man he considered a brother any better than Marcus had. Would their marriage have survived such a blow? Or would it have drawn them closer, as Danny’s death had done for her and Marcus?

It was silly to wonder. In a perfect world, she’d have them both, just like the good old days. Oh, she missed those sun-soaked days where their biggest concerns were schoolwork and beach parties. But that wasn’t how things had turned out. As much as she had loved Danny, she wouldn’t wish for Marcus’s death to have him back. She knew, beyond blaming himself, Marcus would give anything to trade places with Danny. Was it wrong that the thought of losing him now made her nauseous? If it was possible for the two men to switch places, shouldn’t she want her husband back?

She stared out over the surfers as her stomach wrapped itself in guilty knots. Acceptance was a wonderful thing. It lifted the weight of grief, allowed life to go on, but it could also be so ugly. She’d accepted that Danny’s only part in her life now was as a memory. She wasn’t the same person she’d been while married to him. The last year of grief had changed and molded her into someone else. If he miraculously came back to life tomorrow, she honestly didn’t know if they could pick up where they left off. She’d loved the memory of him for too long now.

She realized Marcus was watching her and offered a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”

“You’re sure? You want me to keep going?”

She couldn’t speak. Her throat had closed up, so she just nodded instead.

Marcus let out a soft exhale. “The bullet would have hit Lanie—she was directly behind me—but Danny jumped up and knocked her out of the way.”

“Yes, he would do that. He always wanted to save people.”

“Yeah, well. He saved Lanie. The bullet traveled through him, and by the time it hit her it had lost so much velocity that it didn’t do much. He took all the damage for her. All the damage originally meant for me.”

“Marcus—”

He shook his head hard and continued talking. He seemed to need to finish the story now that he’d started, so she fell silent.

His voice came out rough, like gravel had clogged up his throat. “I knew it was bad as soon as I got to them. Danny was very pale and struggling to breathe. He kept saying he was cold. I shouted for a medic and Jesse came running. Bullets flying everywhere, nobody knew who was shooting or why, and he came running with his medical bag. For a second I thought, It’s okay now. Jesse’s a fucking superhero with that med kit. He can fix anybody. But then Jesse put in one of those…what’s it called?” He made a stabbing motion toward his chest. “Chest tube or drain or whatever. To help Danny breathe. Blood spurted out. Just…everywhere. All over me, Jesse.” He held up his hands and looked at them like he could still see the blood painting them. “I think I knew then what was going to happen. I didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t accept it. But I knew as soon as that blood came pouring out of that tube, he wasn’t going to make it. You need to know Jesse didn’t give up. He refused. He said there was a bleed somewhere in Danny’s chest and he needed to stop it or else Danny wouldn’t make it to a hospital. He opened Danny up right there.”

Leah pressed a shaking hand over her mouth as the swill of nausea she’d felt minutes ago surged up her throat. “Oh God. Stop.”

Marcus didn’t seem to hear her. He made a sound that might have been a laugh if it wasn’t so choked with sorrow. “Battlefield surgery. Jesse’d done it before when Gabe was shot, and that turned out okay, but…not this time. He found the bleed, clamped it. Except there was another. And another. Eventually he stopped looking and shook his head. He told me later that Danny’s heart was pulverized. He was surprised it had continued beating for as long as it had.”

Leah couldn’t hear more. She thought she could do this. Thought she was strong enough now to hear the details, but she wasn’t. She knocked her mug off the railing as she spun away and fled down the stairs. The crack of the ceramic shattering sounded miles away.

Once she reached the pool and garden, she staggered to a halt. She didn’t know where to go. She was trapped inside this villa because someone wanted to hurt her. Just like how someone had hurt Danny. Pulverized his heart. The same heart she had listened to every night for thirteen years.

She jolted when Marcus touched her shoulder. She felt like she’d jump out of her skin if the wind blew in the wrong direction.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus said and turned her toward him, dragging her into his arms. He held her tight and pressed his face against the top of her head. “I shouldn’t have— I’m so sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on until the tremors passed. He felt safe, and she savored it even though she knew it was a false safety. The crash of emotions she felt toward him were anything but safe.

He eased away and gazed down, worry creasing his forehead. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but when she tried to speak no words came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I thought I was ready.”

He cradled her face in his hands, and she’d never seen his eyes so kind, so tender. “Danny’s last thought was for you and the kids. He loved you so much, Leah. That’s all you need to know about what happened that day. That’s all you need to hang on to. Let me carry the burden of remembering the hard parts, the ugly parts, for you.”

She brought her hands up to his wrists. “That’s not fair to you.”

“He’s dead and I’m alive. I’d say that’s plenty fair.”

She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but she stood up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Maybe it was the emotional upheaval of the last few minutes. Maybe it was the way he looked at her with such tenderness, like she was the most precious thing he’d ever held in his arms. Maybe it was because she’d been yearning for the kind of connection she once shared with Danny. She’d never felt alone when he was alive. Now it was nothing but lonely days followed by even lonelier nights.

It was selfish, but for a moment, she wanted to be selfish. Right now, she just wanted to feel something other than anger, hurt, fear, and sorrow.

Marcus’s muscles tensed as she slid her hands from his wrists to his shoulders. He wasn’t responding to her kiss. He just stood there, all statue-like. She drew away, heat flooding into her cheeks.

Dammit, that had been stupid. “I-I shouldn’t have—”

Marcus released a shuddering breath and grabbed her around the waist with his big hands, drawing her flush against his hard body as his mouth descended on hers. He wasn’t gentle, wasn’t asking. He was taking, devouring, and nerve endings she forgot she had sparked to pleasurable life. Every worry vaporized in the heat of his kiss. Every fear. Every horrible image filling her mind. Everything. He made it all disappear. She gripped his shoulders, clung to him, feeling anchored for the first time in a year.

But then he released her.

The action was so abrupt she wobbled and nearly fell over. No more anchor. He’d ripped it away and left her drifting again.

Marcus stared at her with hooded eyes, his chest heaving with ragged pants. Since he wore nothing but sweatpants, it was impossible to miss how the kiss had affected him. He was aroused. Very aroused. Her gaze skimmed down to the tent at the front of his pants, and she felt an answering clench of need deep in her belly.

Marcus casually covered his erection with one hand. “I, uh, have work to do before the team gets here.”

He spun away, poised to bolt like she was a dangerous creature he had to escape. She couldn’t let him. If she let him run now, he’d keep running. That was what he always did.

“Marcus, wait.” She caught his hand and he glanced over his shoulder at her. Their gazes clashed, held. In his dark eyes, she saw the heat of desire, but also the blaze of anger. Was he angry at her? Or himself?

She dropped his hand, letting him go. He didn’t move. Just stood there, half turned away, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“It’s not right,” he finally said so softly she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

“What?”

“It’s not right.” This time, there was no doubt in his voice. He waved a hand back and forth in the empty space between them. “This. You and me. Can’t happen.”

Everything in her chest tightened, twisted, and squeezed. She pressed a fist to her heart to make sure it was still beating, because it sure felt like there wasn’t enough room in there for it to properly do its job. She opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her the chance to formulate a reply.

“Can’t happen,” he said again and gave her his back. “Your phone’s ringing,” he tossed over his shoulder as he walked away. “If it’s Mom, be careful how much you tell her. Let’s keep the target on us, not her and the kids.”

He took the steps to the living room two at a time and snapped up his bag from the floor by the sofa. He shouldered it, grabbed his own phone and laptop, then took the long way around the pool to one of the guest rooms.

Avoidance. It was what he did best.

Oh, damn.

Leah reached for her phone and answered with a shaking hand. “Regina?”

“Hey, sweetheart. Is everything okay? You sound rattled.”

Rattled. Yep, that kiss had certainly rattled her. She’d only ever experienced sexual attraction like that with her husband, and feeling it now toward Marcus had knocked her off-kilter. She touched her lips, puffy and well-used and still tingling from his kiss. Heat prickled along her cheek where his beard stubble had scrubbed her skin.

“Leah?” Regina said, worry creeping into her voice.

She gave herself a mental shake and focused on the conversation. “Um, yeah. Everything is fine.”

“Did you find Marcus?”

“I did. He’s going to help me. He called in HORNET and they’re on their way to us.”

“Good.” Regina breathed a sigh of relief. “They’ll figure it out and keep you safe.”

Was it wrong that she very much doubted that?

“You should let me take the kids to their compound,” Regina added. “It’s the safest place for us.”

“No.” Everyone seemed to have so much trust in HORNET—Marcus, Regina, even Alexander Cabot had put his life in their hands—but she couldn’t bring herself to have faith in them.

They got Danny killed. Full stop.

If she’d had anyone else to turn to in this situation, she wouldn’t have contacted HORNET and she didn’t want her children anywhere near that team.

She had no doubt Regina knew what she was thinking and changed the subject before she received a lecture that she’d heard many times before. “How are the kids?”

“Oh, the boys think we’re on a great adventure.” Affection warmed Regina’s voice and lifted some of the weight from Leah’s shoulders.

“Sounds like them.”

“I forgot how entertaining little boys can be. Marcus was a handful, always trying to give me a heart attack, but we had so much fun together.” Some of that warmth faded, replaced with worry. “How is he?”

Once a mother, always a mother. Even when your son was an adult. Leah didn’t know whether to be amused or terrified by the prospect of spending the rest of her life worrying over her children.

She scanned the guest rooms out behind the pool. She hadn’t seen which one Marcus went into. “He’s…about like you’d expect.”

“Can I talk to him?”

God, the hopefulness in Regina’s voice was painful. She doubted Marcus would talk to his mother even if he was available. “He’s in the shower. I’ll have him call you when he gets out.”

Regina said nothing for a beat. Probably because they both knew he wouldn’t call.

“What about Maya?” Leah asked. “Is she okay?”

Regina sighed. “She’s withdrawn. She’s not… I can’t really get her to talk to me.”

Her baby. Her sweet, sensitive little girl. What damage was she doing to her child? She wanted to demand to speak to Maya, but that would only make things worse. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Tell her I love her. The boys, too. Tell them I’ll be home as soon as I can. I should probably go.”

“Leah,” Regina said before she could hang up. “Trust Marcus. He’ll protect you.”

“I do.” He was about the only man in the world she trusted right now. “It’s the rest of them I’m nervous about.”

“You shouldn’t be. They’re good men and women.”

Maybe, but her husband was still dead. She’d be damned before she buried her children, too. “Keep my babies safe. Please.”

“Like they’re my own.”

“They are,” Leah said softly. “You are more their grandmother than my mom is. If anything happens to me, will you take care of them?”

Regina made a muffled sound, something between a soft sob and a laugh. “Oh, amore. You know I will.”

“Thank you.” She spotted Marcus leaving one of the guest rooms, his hair curling in wet ringlets around his face. “I need to go now. I’ll call back when I can.”

“Have my son call me. Please.”

She drew a breath as he stalked toward her. His mood might as well have been a dark cloud trailing behind him. “I’ll try.”