Nobody's Perfect (14 page)

Anita smiled, revealing slightly crooked eyeteeth. "Nice to meet you, Savi. How old are you?"

Savi was an infant, birthed in her bathroom the day she'd discovered she was pregnant. But that response would only invite more questions. "Nineteen."

Anita studied her a moment, then nodded slightly, as if satisfied with her response. Did she think she was a runaway? Well, Savi guessed she was. Just not a juvenile one.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

Savi looked down at the cushion and reached out to pull a loose thread. "Sure."

"Don't lie to me, Savi."

Her gaze returned to the woman as Savi shrank away, but already backed up against the pew, she had no place to go. Anita was angry at her. Savi knew that meant trouble. She didn't want to give this woman or anyone else a reason to punish her. When her hand began to shake, she pulled it back and wrapped both arms around her abdomen. She had to protect the baby in case the woman hit her.

Savi flinched when the woman reached her hand out and laid it on the cushion between them, much as Damián had done in the hotel room; like someone might do while training a dog to accept them and not to bite. Anita just let it lie there. What was that all about? Was Anita afraid of Savi? How ridiculous. Savi had no bite. She was a victim, not an attacker.

No, that was Savannah. She was dead. But Savi could be or do whatever she wanted. The thought was rather freeing.

Yet terrifying. Tears burned her eyes. She didn't know who she was or wanted to be. All she knew were the actresses in the movies she watched to escape into. And the heroines in the books she devoured, like Novalee from "Places in the Heart" or Slim from "Enough." Two strong women she admired for making a life for their babies. They hadn't let their victim status get them down. They'd fought back.

Savi wanted to fight back, too.

But how?

Chapter Five

Damián watched as Marc gave Marisol her first ski lesson on the slope twenty yards away. The New Year's weekend was in full swing here in Aspen, but Marc had insisted there was room for Damián to bring Savi and Marisol up to enjoy a much-needed break at Marc's family's resort.

Savi stood on the slopes nearby, ever watchful of her baby girl. She rarely let Marisol out of her sight. But Damián and Marc hadn't let Savi even think about putting on skis. The doctor had said another three or four weeks before that broken rib would heal, and Damián would make sure she followed those orders.

For years, Marc had told Damián about special equipment he could use to learn to ski with his prosthesis, but he'd never wanted to try. Until now. Marisol fell on her butt and Damián just about came off the bench to run over and pick her up to make sure she hadn't hurt herself. Then she started giggling as Marc reached down and took her arm to lift her up onto her skis again.

"Marc's an incredibly patient teacher."

Damián looked up as Angelina sat down beside him on the bench. "Why aren't you out on the slopes with them?"

She shrugged. "Didn't feel like it today. How about you?"

Damián looked down at his foot, then at her, but didn't state the obvious.

"You know Marc has equipment that would get you out there."

So he'd heard.

Damián had been too busy with Savi and Marisol when Marc had taken Rosa and the kids to a resort near Denver to learn to ski.
Hell, 'fess up, man.
Even before Savi and Marisol showed up on his doorstep, he'd had no intention of joining them. He didn't want to show Teresa and José their uncle was a cripple. As it was, he was able to hide his disability pretty well.

But sitting here on the sidelines didn't sit well with him. He wanted to be the one Marisol looked to for help getting up, not Marc. Not that he'd be able to show her how to ski. He'd never been on skis before in his life.

Angelina sighed. She'd seemed subdued at breakfast this morning, too, but it was none of his business.

Old Dom habits die hard, though. At the club, he needed to look out for all of the subs, and that need didn't end outside the club's doors. "What do you think of Marc's family?" He knew this was her first time to meet them since she and Marc had moved in together a few months ago.

Her smile seemed genuine. "They're wonderful. I can see where he gets a lot of his personality traits. They've been very welcoming…" Her smile faded; her voice drifted off.

"Except…"

She sighed even more heavily. "His brother Gino's fiancée is driving me crazy. There's something…I don't know. Something Marc hasn't told me about his relationship with her."

Okay, so maybe this was a conversation she needed to be having with Marc. "Have you talked with him about her?"

Angelina shook her head. "We haven't really had a chance."

"Bullshit, and you know it."

She looked taken aback at first, then nodded and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah." She looked down at her lap. "I think I'm afraid of hearing the answers to my questions."

"You know he'll tell you the truth. He's already gotten bitten in the ass once for lying. I can assure you that the man learned his lesson."

Angelina stared out at the slopes, and Damián followed her gaze. While she thought about it, Damián attention focused on Marisol again as Marc taught her a new move on the bunny slope. Savi glanced in his direction and flashed him a smile that stirred his dick to life.
Madre de Dios
, she was so fucking beautiful. So perfect.

He hated the reason she'd come back to him, but was so glad she had turned to him and not someone else.

"I sometimes feel Marc wears a mask."

He turned to Angelina again. "He gave up wearing it at the club."

She glanced down. "Well, not voluntarily. I…um, well, Karla and Cassie and I were…oh, hell, I destroyed his wolf mask last October."

Damián raised his eyebrows. Damn. He fought the urge to laugh out loud, not wanting to encourage a sub's bratty behavior, but it was about time someone got rid of that asinine thing. Marc needed to admit who he was, no matter who might have a problem with it. Chances of any of the people he said he was hiding from, especially his parents, ever seeing him in the club were nonexistent. Maybe he wasn't hiding from them, though, but himself.

Maybe—

"Marco taught me to ski in college."

Damián looked up as a stunning Italian woman, dressed in an expensive-looking ski outfit he'd guess had never come near touching the snow. She sat down on the bench on the other side of Angelina, who stiffened and inched closer to Damián. Was this the woman Angelina had just been talking about?

"You went to college with Marc?" Angelina asked. He heard the tremor in her voice.

"Yes. I'll never forget when that September he brought me up here to meet his family."

Angelina clenched and unclenched her hands. He wondered if she were debating whether she should deck the woman, or if she should just run away from her.

"Mama D'Alessio invited me over last night to welcome Marco home, but I hardly got to speak with him the way you monopolized his time."

Angelina's body tensed.

The catty woman bared her claws as she tried to get a rise out of Angelina. Damián didn't get the impression there had been anyone special who had gotten under his skin when they were in service, certainly not as much as Savannah had gotten under Damián's skin.

Damián reached over and squeezed Angelina's hand. Surely, she knew Marc thought the world of her. How could she think this woman had any influence over Marc anymore, if she ever had?

Angelina sat up taller. "Marc's his own man and can decide who he wants to spend him time with."

"Well, I'm just saying you shouldn't try to keep Marco away from us. We missed him at Christmas especially."

The woman made it sound like she was more important to the family—or had more of a right to be here—than Angelina.

"Family is very important to both of us, Melissa. I've enjoyed meeting his family very much this weekend, but we couldn't be in two places at once. He spent Christmas with my family. "

Now it was the bitch's turn to clench her fists. Apparently, Angelina had hit a nerve. Good for her.

Melissa stood and pranced off in a huff, and Angelina's body relaxed, but soon she began shaking. He caged her chin and forced her to focus on him. "Breathe deeply." She didn't respond. "Now, Angelina."

She took several shallow breaths, and then he saw tears in her eyes. At least her shaking had stopped. He released her face, but took her hand and squeezed it. "Just ignore her. She's just trying to make trouble. Marc's with you, not her."

"Thanks. I'm okay."

"Talk to Marc. Tonight."

She nodded. "I'll try."

"Don't try. Do it."

She pulled away. "I'm going up to the room. I'll probably see you at dinner."

Damián watched her walk toward the chair lift and wondered if she had any intention of dealing with the issue. But that was between her and Marc. He had his hands full with Savi and Marisol.

Damián looked out at the slopes and saw Marc skiing backward down a slightly steeper grade, Marisol facing him, her eyes wide, excitement mixed with a bit of fear evident on her face. He appeared ready to catch her if she fell.

She placed all her trust in Marc at the moment. Damián wanted her to look at him like that.

His gaze drifted to Savi who must have been looking at him, but turned away when he zeroed in on her.

He wished Savi would place her trust in him, too. It would probably be a lot easier for Marisol to do that than his
Savita
.

* * *

Damián looked up as Marc strolled into the bar area, ordered something, and slid onto a barstool. Marc ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Something must be up, but Damián wasn't sure his friend wanted company. If he did, he'd be upstairs with Angelina. Marc valued his solitude and privacy more than anyone Damián knew.

Maybe Angelina had brought up the subject of Melissa.

When the redheaded bartender set a glass and a bottle of white wine in front of him, Marc waited for her to pour a sample, but didn't bother to go through his usual ritual of tasting. He filled the glass nearly to the rim, then downed the contents of the glass in a few swallows.

Marc was going to be fucked up if he kept chugging his wine like that. Damián picked up his beer and headed over to see what was up.

"Where's Angelina?"

Marc looked up at him. "Upstairs." He looked around to see if anyone was with Damián. "How about Savi and Marisol?"

"I think you wore Marisol out on the slopes today. They said they plan to soak in their Jacuzzi and go to bed early."

Damián was disappointed that their last night at the resort would be spent apart. Savi didn't even want to have dinner with him, but said they'd order room service instead. They'd been apart most of the day and he missed them like crazy.

Funny how a few weeks ago, he'd have been fine being alone. Situation normal. But now the thought of their not being in his life hurt. An actually physical pain.

Damián took a seat next to his friend and took a swig of his now-warm beer. The bartender placed several bowls of salty snacks between them. She reminded him of the redhead he and Marc had played with at the kink club in LA, just before they'd been deployed to Iraq. Marc had insisted Damián come along that night. It had been the first time Damián had experienced BDSM in a positive way since he'd dumped his kinky girlfriend after juvie.

Damián reached for a handful of pistachios and laid them in a row in front of him. He opened one and set the shells aside. Marc seemed pissed about something. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"Not particularly."

So much for that.

Marc paused, grabbing a nut and cracking it open. "Tell me more about you and Savi. Where did you meet her?"

Damián washed another nut down with a swallow of beer. "Long time ago at the hotel where I worked. She was in trouble and I happened to be the only person around to help."

"You played the hero, huh?"

"Something like that." Some fucking hero. He'd taken her back to the very man she was on the run from now.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a kid?"

"Didn't know myself until a couple weeks ago."

"
Merda!
She's the Savannah you were always talking about in Fallujah!"

Damián nodded. "Yeah, but don't call her Savannah or she'll bite off your head and spit it out."

"Duly noted." He drained his glass and poured another.

Damián ordered another Dos Equis; definitely his last of the night. "We'll be shoving off tomorrow about noon. If I don't see you again up here before that, thanks for everything. Seeing Savi and Marisol laughing out there today was great."

"Glad to have you all here. Looks like we'll be leaving tomorrow, too."

"I thought you were going to stick around and visit with your family more."

"Change of plans."

That didn't sound good. The bartender set another bottle in front of Damián. "Angelina said she liked your family."

For the first time since he'd walked in here, Marc grinned. "They like her a lot, too. I tried to tell her she had nothing to worry about."

If his family and Angelina weren't the problem, then the Italian barracuda must have said something to upset him. Clearly, Marc wasn't going to talk about it, though.

Time to change the subject. "Dad and Karla should be home sometime tomorrow afternoon. I want to stop by and see him before we head home. Fill them in on what's going on."

"Tell them we'll invite them over later this week. Angelina would love to cook something up for them. Why don't you all come over, too?"

"I'd like that, but will have to check with Savi."

Marc nodded. "
Merda
." Abruptly, Marc stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go check on Angelina. We may come down for drinks and appetizers later, unless she wants to just go have dinner. You want to join us?"