Save Me If You Can (9 page)

A year ago, he didn’t even know Inez existed. Now, she dominated his thoughts on the regular, and he wasn’t even sure how to define what they were doing. There’d been no discussion, no romantic words, just mutual admiration and flirting, leading to good sex, leading to… what now?

Maybe it doesn’t matter.

He wasn’t trying to marry Inez, they were just cool – friends. Denying that he was drawn to her would be a lie. She was the first woman he’d felt magnetized to in the same way he’d felt drawn to Anita, in the four years since he’d last been able to touch her beautiful face. But he knew she wasn’t looking for anything serious, and neither was he. This moment, holding her, spilling his heart… this was an anomaly.

“Ken…” Inez bit her lip as he ran a thumb down her tear-streaked cheek, then kissed her, pulling her lip from her mouth into his own. He ran his tongue over the plump, velvety flesh, and she…
goddamn
, she whimpered, and that was all it took to make his dick swell in his pants.

“Don’t try to distract me,” she murmured against his lips. “You’re glad that what?” Kendall sighed, and tried to move back, but she gripped him tight around the waist. “Uh-uh.
Tell me
.”

“I’m glad she was first.” She let out a quiet gasp over his words, just like he expected. “I…” he blew out a harsh breath before he continued, “Twenty-seven weeks was the furthest we’d ever gotten, and she was
so
fucking happy. That was gonna be the time, it was gonna be fine. If it wasn’t for Terry King… we’d have our baby. I’m grateful she didn’t have to experience that last loss.”

Inez stared at him for so long, with parted lips and glossy eyes, that Kendall started to wonder if she was going to break off and run. Not that he would blame her, cause it was kind of twisted, to rationalize that if you were going to lose your wife and child, there was a preferable choice in whose life would be snuffed out first.

Instead, she held him tighter. Brushed her lips against his in a soft, slow kiss that was sweet to the taste, then buried her face in his neck.

“He’ll pay for what he did, Ken,” she whispered. “I know you couldn’t find what you needed to make it official, but he’s
going
to go down. We got him.”

She spoke softly, but her voice was confident.

Kendall, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure.

They had plenty of evidence, Terry King’s public reputation was shot to hell, and it
looked
like it was a slam-dunk case. But after the time he’d spent between the FBI and CIA, he knew first hand that it didn’t always end up that way, and Damien Wolfe was a perfect example. Hauled in for questioning over and over, even arrested a few times, but it never stuck.

Even if it didn’t, that was okay.

If King didn’t go down the legal way, Kendall had another demise in mind.

&

Somewhere within her, Naomi had always known this would happen.

She felt it when she woke up alone in the bed she’d been sharing with Marcus, and absently stroked her belly. It felt different than it usually did. No rush of warmth, no flash of Marcus cuddling a baby in soft yellow blankets, like she’d become accustomed to.

No
nothing.

But she ignored it. She’d focused instead on the frustration of not knowing what was going on around her, feeling stuck in a cage. And now… this.

One day
, Naomi thought, as she stared at the lines and swirls in the ceiling. One day, she would be able to block it all from her mind. The trauma, the pain, the heartache she’d experienced in barely three decades of life, one day she’d be able to put it all into a box and lock it away, some place where the shadows of ugly memories couldn’t affect her anymore.

Today wasn’t that day.

Her mother’s disappearance and violation, then subsequent death, which she now knew was a lie. Her father’s murder. Tomiko’s betrayal. Being attacked in her own home. Being attacked on what should have been one of the happiest days of her life, the realization that the baby she’d conceived with Marcus was a bright spot, a light she wanted to let shine.

And then, a week ago, the attack at Inez’s. Another violation of her ability to feel safe. And… the extinguishing of that light.

It couldn’t have been avoided,
Dr. Morris had said, pressing a soft, soothing hand to Naomi’s arm. She claimed it wasn’t anything Naomi had done, that they’d run the tests, and the culprit was some defect in chromosomes. She swore up and down that from what they could tell, there hadn’t been a heartbeat in days, that the timing of the start of the pain was coincidental. And mostly, she kept repeating to Naomi, over, and over, and over, that it wasn’t her fault.

But Naomi knew that already. She didn’t spend a single second blaming herself for the loss of her child. She blamed Tamiko, Wolfe, King, Noelle … and maybe even Nelson too.
They
were the ones who’d set this shit in motion, before she was even born.
They’d
behaved badly, screwing each other over and messing things up, and now she was paying the price.

She’d paid the price over, and over, and
over
.

Naomi had spent many long nights crying over the loss of her mother, mourning her father. Thinking of Damien Wolfe as some boogey-man, lurking in the dark, afraid that at any moment, he would pluck her from wherever she was, and subject her to whatever he’d supposedly done to her mother. Not living, laughing, loving, like a normal young woman. Stealing, scheming, surviving. That was her life, because of the sick little love triangle between Damien, Nelson, and Noelle.

But Naomi could, at least, give them credit that they’d not harmed her directly. She was simply collateral damage in their fucked up game.  Terry King, on the other hand… that was as personal as it got.

She
was their target. Inez had gotten it out of one of the intruders they’d left alive, that they were sent to bring back anybody related to Wolfe. Taylor, Kennedy, and
especially
Naomi.

Naomi hadn’t yet left the hospital bed, but it had been relayed to her through the others that Harrison had been acting as double-agent, and spilled everything he knew. The veracity was questionable on some things, but on
this
thing, that Terry King’s and his men had raided Wolfe’s mansion, his words rang true. She had no doubt that after finding out what Wolfe had done to Renata, and that he’d forced Renata to collaborate on the demise of his company, Terry King was thirsty for revenge. Wolfe had violated and destroyed what King cared about. King was looking to do the same.

She didn’t bother trying to wrap her brain around why
especially
her. She’d spent enough time trying to figure out the logic of Wolfe, and he and King were cut from the same foul, degenerate, abusive cloth. There was no sense in trying to figure out a mad man, and frankly, she was past the point of caring what made him – or
any
of them – tick. No longer was she interested in answers, or explanations, she just wanted them to fucking
die
.

And she wanted to be the one to pull the trigger.

Between the three of them, they’d waged enough emotional war, done enough psychological damage to ruin even the strongest person. So here she was. This was the moment, this
last
thing, the loss of the baby….
This
was the thing that ruined her. Alive or not, saints or not, the parents she knew and loved were gone. The child that made her want to forget about revenge, and move on, was gone.

For the first time, she allowed herself to look at Marcus, who was passed out against her legs. He slept the tense, fitful slumber of someone whose body had left him no other choice in the matter. His soft snores were punctuated with sharp grunts, like in his dream – or nightmare – he was engaged in some sort of battle.

She resisted the urge to wake him.

He’d been up with her, for the last two days. He’d held her hair back while she puked after the assault on Inez’s compound. He’d rubbed her back on the transfer across town to a new safe house. And he’d been the one to get medical attention for her when she needed it.

If she had any doubts about whether or not the love he claimed to have was steadfast,
this
was the juncture where they were erased. Marcus hadn’t left her side. He’d fed her, rubbed her feet, cried with her to the point of exhaustion. And when he looked at her, she saw hurt, she saw rage, she saw confusion and a tiny edge of defeat, all things that mirrored her own mind and heart. But she saw no condemnation.

At, least, not of
her.

Without speaking a single word about it, she instinctively knew that she and Marcus were on the same page. Terry, Damien, Noelle… that little fucked up trio had been the root of so much pain, not just in their lives, but the people they now considered family and friends as well. They were past the stage of anger, and hatred wasn’t a strong enough word. Arrest wasn’t good enough, not that it had
ever
been good enough for Naomi, but especially not now. Hell, at this point
death
seemed like a mercy that was way too kind.

Lifting her hands, Naomi swiped the tears from her face. They were distracting, and unnecessary. She swallowed hard, tucking her heartbreak over the loss of the baby into the recesses of her mind. It was an emotional liability, a dangerous detraction from her goal. She needed to focus now. Back into her dance studio. Back into training, twice a day, as soon as she was medically cleared. Back to the gun range, where she would shoot until her fingers were numb and her eardrums were shattered, or she got past the silly aversion to firing a weapon. Whichever came first.

Naomi was willing, and able –
diligence, focus, agility
– to push her mind and body as far as they could go, for this one last mission. Win or lose, live or die, it didn’t matter. She was tired, and it was time to end this, once and for all.

This
time… she was going to war, and anybody that wasn’t with her… was against her.

part two.

Seven.

Damien Wolfe had seen and done so much over the years that very little surprised him anymore. He wasn’t very surprised that Terry King had raided his home. He was even less surprised that he’d made an attempt to abduct Naomi. And hell, Noelle’s treachery had honestly been
expected
.

But… she’d
shot
at him.

She’d aimed a gun in his direction and pulled the fucking trigger.

He didn’t know if he was still alive because she had bad aim, or because Terry had snatched her by the arm as she pulled the trigger, altering the trajectory of the bullet. He didn’t know if she intended to kill him, wound him, or just make it look like she was trying to do either one. He was alive now, but if Noelle was
really
no longer on his side… how long would that be the case?

Though he thought about it often, Damien hadn’t yet decided if the fact he was still alive was a good thing or not. It had been a month since the invasion of his home. His injuries had been treated, he’d been moved into a better room, bathed, given fresh clothes, decent food, and a TV, none of which surprised him. It was slick, and exactly something he would do himself, keeping an enemy healthy and well-fed while you ensured their demise. It was amusing, quite honestly. It wasn’t like he would starve himself, or hang himself with the bed sheets. He had help, and it was coming. He could feel it.

Three people in this world, that was all.

Three people, with the means, motive, and wherewithal to do whatever it took to save his ass. One, because of love. The other, because of revenge. The third, because of money.

Noelle… was out, as far as he concerned. She’d always been volatile, emotional, but then again, most beautiful women were. He couldn’t hold that against her, but… still.
Shooting at him
was taking shit way too far. He couldn’t count on her.

So then, there were two.

He nodded to himself as he turned toward the window, the barred glass the only visual indication that he was currently imprisoned. Where exactly, he wasn’t sure, since his view was nothing but thick trees, and sky. He wasn’t worried though. Worry wasn’t something he “did”. Worry was for weaklings. And “weakling” wasn’t a word that described Damien at all.

Patient, however, was.

&

Patience had never been a strong trait of Naomi’s.

She was meticulous, long-suffering, a check and double check kind of girl when it came to planning most missions, but when it came to her personal life… no. Not at all.

Because of her profession, leisure time and recreation were often pushed to the side. There were very few things that Naomi enjoyed, and got to do on a regular basis, when she was busy breaking into things and committing grand larceny. For that reason, when she
did
get a chance to do something she truly loved, she took great offense at anything or anyone that kept her from it.

That was especially true now.

A month had passed since the miscarriage, and she was beyond ready to be back at the gym. She’d felt ready after the first week – if she ignored the physical pain, which she was used to doing anyway – but had indulged Dr. Morris by agreeing to wait another two weeks. After that, it had been Marcus on her back, insisting she wasn’t ready yet, pulling guilt trips that he was worried for her, and trying to plant the fear that Terry King would make an attempt on her again, if she made herself so vulnerable.

He didn’t seem to understand that was
exactly
what she wanted.

That month since the raid had been quiet. Almost too quiet.

No…
definitely
too quiet. If she had to guess, she would assume they were being lured into a false sense of security, but who knew? Maybe Terry King was dead. Maybe he and Wolfe had called a truce, agreed to let the innocents live in peace. Maybe this, maybe that, Naomi didn’t know. But what she
did
know was that she was sick of living in fear, and from now on…. She just wouldn’t do it.

She and Marcus were on the same page about who needed to die, and why, but they were at odds at how that was supposed happen. He preferred to stay in the shadows and prepare. She preferred to not fucking hide. He insisted that they needed a plan, reminded her of the importance of patience.  She insisted that she’d been patient about as long as she planned to. There was no baby to consider anymore, no worries of being too physical and causing harm, no hopes and dreams and sweet yellow nurseries swimming in her head.

Diligence. Focus. Agility.

That’s what she was all about now.

She was going back to her gym. She was going back to her baby ballerinas. And she
dared
anybody to try and stop her.

“
Madame Mimi
!!”

A big smile, the kind of smile that hadn’t crossed her face in a long while, sprang up as her students crowded around her. She’d emailed the parents the week before – leaving off Marcus’s sister, who was in another country with her husband anyway – to have the girls ready for her to be back, and they had delivered.

She only allowed herself a few moments to bask in the energy and attention of the class before she called them to order, ushering them into their places at the barre.

“Are we ready?” she asked, fighting hard to keep her expression serious. When ten bunned, puffed, cornrowed and twisted little heads nodded in her direction, she gave in to another smile. “Okay then. Let’s see what you’ve remembered.”

&

“Must you be so damned difficult?”

“Isn’t that what attracted you to me in the first place?”

Naomi grinned as she turned toward Marcus, who was draped in the doorway of her classroom. She’d done two classes that day, and she was honestly exhausted, but still, she felt amazing after two hours spent basking in the youthful energy of her baby ballerinas. He stepped in, closing the door behind him. She pulled herself up from her stretched position on the floor, hoping Marcus wouldn’t notice her fatigue as he approached, with his hands pushed into his pockets.

“I won’t confirm or deny that.” Naomi inhaled deep as Marcus wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close. “This is the happiest I’ve seen you look in… hell…
ever
,” he chuckled, grabbing her chin to turn her face up toward his.

“Whatever, Agent Calloway,” she whispered against his lips, pushing her hands underneath his tee shirt to brush her fingers over the ridges of his stomach. She moaned a little when he grabbed her at the waist, pulling her against his hardness as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Warmth rushed through her, settling between her thighs as he kissed her, backing her against the mirrored wall of the classroom.

Shivering against the cool glass at her back, Naomi opened her eyes as Marcus drew himself away, just enough to end their kiss. “
Agent
Calloway?” he murmured, smirking as his fingers drifted to the ties keeping her ballet skirt at her waist. “We’re back on that now?”

Naomi smiled, then bit her lip as she pushed herself up on her toes to speak into his ear. “Only when I’m about to do something
very, very
bad.”

“It has
definitely
not been six weeks yet,
Jolie Voleuse
. Your body needs time to heal, so… can’t be
too
bad.”

She grabbed his belt. “Our mouths work… and so do our hands.” She lifted an eyebrow, licked her lips as she felt him grow even harder.

“True,” he said, moving his hands to cup her ass. “But if we do that, we
both
know we’re gonna want to do more. Gonna want to do it
all
.” Naomi let out a derisive shot of air through her teeth, then dropped her fingers from his belt, shying away from his touch as she tried to move out of his arms. “Hey,” he said, confusion lacing his voice as he held her in place. “What, you’re pissed now? Is what I said not the truth?”

“If you say so, Marcus.  But you know Dr. Morris cleared me for sex anyway.” She snapped those words out harshly, then batted his hands away from her. “So, to me, it just sounds like an excuse not to touch me.”

Marcus drew his head back like she’d slapped him, then moved to catch her by the arm as she bent to snatch up a hairbow one of the girls had left behind on the floor.

“Naomi,” he said, his voice edged with something like anger. “Why in the hell would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true!” She tore herself away from him, angrily swiping tears from her eyes as she slapped at the switch to turn off the lights. “Leave me the fuck alone,” she snapped. “And I mean it.”

She left him standing there looking flabbergasted as she stormed out, heading straight to the back office she and Quentin shared. She rolled her eyes at several patrons who were so obviously FBI it wasn’t even funny, but increased security was one of the conditions she’d had to agree to if she wanted to come back.

Naomi shoved through the door of the office, and rolled her eyes at Quentin and Renata too, both huddled at the computer. She headed straight for the private bathroom, where she stripped out of her ballet clothes and climbed into the shower, turning it on as hot as she could stand. She closed her eyes and let it stream over her, not even being careful not to wet her hair, because she was just that damned…
ugh!

All day, she’d felt amazing. Had kept herself squarely focused on the thrill and excitement of teaching her class again, of being back in the gym atmosphere, of leaving the house like the normal person she’d pretended to be for so many years. And in less than a minute, it had been torn down.

“Hey.”

She flinched at the sound of Marcus’ voice in the room with her, so close it seemed like he was right beside her. And when she opened her eyes, he was, looking at her from the other side of the glass enclosure.

“I told you to leave me alone,” she said, and then turned her back to him, to pull her body wash from the built in shelf. He said nothing, but his presence never left the room. She wasn’t surprised at all when a few moments later, she felt his hands against her skin.

Marcus turned her toward him with his hands at her waist, and the wide expanse of his shoulders blocked the spray, keeping water out of her face. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. One moment you’re damn near vibrating with happiness, and the next… you’re like this. What’s up?”

“Would you please just leave me be?”

“No.” Naomi let out a frustrated growl, and tried to move around him, but Marcus held her, even against her slippery skin, keeping her in place. “You’re not about to do this shit right now Naomi,” he said, turning her face so he could look in her eyes. “You’re not about to push me away. Tell me what the fuck is happening right now.”

She blinked, hard, and let out a shuddering breath, trying and failing to will tears not to stream down her already wet face. “I….” Naomi clamped her mouth closed as a sob built in her throat, and shook her head.

“Naomi… Just
tell me
, baby. Please.”

Her chest clenched.

The fact that he was actually pleading with her, the twinge of desperation his voice held…

“You haven’t touched me,” she said, finally, licking her lips as she met his gaze. “Not since… you know. You’ve held me, yeah. We’ve kissed, and cuddled, but you haven’t
touched
me. And… I don’t know how to interpret that.”

Marcus shook his head. “What… do you think I don’t want you? Cause…” he looked down, pointedly, drawing her eyes to where his erection was bridging the gap between them.

“So then what is it?” Inwardly, she cringed over how whiny she sounded, not at all like the former badass she’d promised herself she would be. But… if there were ever a moment, any such thing as an appropriate person to be whiny with, this was it. He was the person.

“I….” Marcus groaned, then dropped his head, letting out a harsh, heavy sigh before he looked up to meet her eyes again. “I want you to be able to get pregnant again.”

Those words made Naomi’s heart seem to stop in her chest, and the sound of the water in the shower because muffled, like it was coming through a tunnel.

Pregnant again?

Marcus grabbed her hands, bringing them up to his lips, kissing them before he continued. “When all of this is over – and it
will
be over, I want us to be able to try again. I want back what we lost, and shit, Naomi… I just … this probably sounds idiotic, but I don’t want to take any chances. I was there when Dr. Morris cleared you, remember? She said it was
technically
fine, but she would prefer we wait. And… I would prefer we wait too. Just to be safe. Please tell me you understand that.”

A bubble of relief burst in Naomi’s chest, and she nodded. So many reasons for his physical distance had run through her head, that he was bored with her, that she was too much drama, that he wasn’t attracted to her anymore after the changes the pregnancy had made to her body. That he held a fear of hurting her had never crossed Naomi’s mind.