Take Me Deeper (28 page)

Zane made a growling sound in his throat in irritation. He
wasn't
fucking running away. Only cowards ran and he wasn't a coward. He was just going back to what he knew, to the army. Where protecting people was an abstract thing, where emotion and caring and all that bullshit didn't get in the way of doing an effective job.

Sure, make it all about that and not because you can't deal with the fact that you care about her and you nearly lost her.

Christ. Would his brain just shut the fuck up for one goddamn minute?

A woman towing a suitcase behind her gave him a wide-eyed look and veered away from him, and he realized he'd said that last bit out loud.

Christ. What the hell was wrong with him? He felt like he hadn't been himself since the day he'd set foot back in Texas. Which was all the more reason to leave it.

He'd just gotten to the check-in counter when his phone buzzed. Irritated, he hauled it out and checked the screen, cursing as Quinn's name popped up.

Dammit. He didn't want to speak with his brother, especially when he already knew what kind of accusations were going to be leveled at him. Sure, he'd pussied out of his six-month promise to stay here, but it wasn't like his brother actually needed him.

No, you needed them. They came through for you in the end just like they promised, yet you can't deal with that either.

Well, was it any wonder? People were always so full of that loyalty bullshit and yet it meant nothing. Sticking around wouldn't make any difference, not when it would all fall apart because it always did. And then he'd be left in the same situation as he had been all those years ago, watching his family break apart and powerless to stop it.

Powerless? Really?

“Fuck you,” Zane muttered to his overactive brain.

His phone buzzed insistently. Goddamn, he really didn't want to answer it. Then again, it could be about Iris and as much as he wished he could ignore that, he couldn't.

Annoyed and trying to ignore the cold clutch of something he refused to call fear, Zane hit the Accept button. “What?” he growled into the phone. “This had better be important.”

“Of course it's important,” Quinn said flatly. “But don't take my word for it.”

There was a pause, then someone else on the other end of the phone said, “Zane?” The voice was light, feminine, and incredibly familiar.

He froze. It felt like someone had taken his Glock and shot him in the chest with it and he couldn't have uttered a word, not even if his life depended on it.

“It's okay,” Iris went on, and now he could hear the slightly scratchy edge to her voice, as if she'd just woken up from a long sleep. “You don't have to say anything, but please don't hang up. I just wanted to say thank-you. For everything you've done for me.”

Now it didn't feel so much like a gunshot wound as someone winding long fingers around his chest and squeezing tight. Squeezing all the air out of his lungs, all the breath from his body.

“I think I get why you're going,” Iris said. “Why you didn't say goodbye, and I understand. I guess it's a bit like mission accomplished, right? Anyway, I know you don't want to say goodbye, but I do. And I think you can at least give me that.”

He should say something. He should man up and at least give her that goodbye.

But he couldn't. The words were stuck there in his throat, choking him. It was like he was lying on the floor, his father's boot in his gut, kicking him hard, the pain of that betrayal biting deep.

“I want you to know that I'm okay.” Iris sounded even more quiet. “And that I remember what I said to you. And I know that's the last thing you wanted to hear, but it's true all the same.”

The pressure on his chest felt crushing, like he had a fucking tank sitting directly above his heart.

“No one's ever been there for me the way you were.” Now he could barely hear her. “No one ever came back for me the way you did. I'll never forget that, not in a million years.” A small pause and even despite the noise of the busy airport concourse around him, he could hear the soft hitch in her breathing. “I shouldn't have said it, I guess, and I shouldn't say this now. But what the hell. I choose you, Zane. I know you don't want me to, but I do. I love you.”

Then, just like that, she was gone.

He didn't know how long he stood there, staring at nothing in particular with his phone still lifted to his ear. Eventually he lowered his hand and went over to sit down on a nearby bench, his duffel bag at his feet.

He sat there for a long time, watching the ebb and flow of the crowds, the joyful greetings and the tearful farewells. The arguing packs of families and the single travelers, heading with purpose and direction to wherever it was they were going.

He should go, he knew. Head toward the check-in counter, get on his flight, and leave the way he'd planned. But he couldn't seem to get himself to move. The pressure in his chest was crushing and all he could think about was the edge of pain in Iris's voice as she'd told him she chose him. He didn't know why he couldn't stop thinking about it.

She wasn't supposed to matter. All he was supposed to do was save her, then move on.

You did save her. She isn't gone. You're the one who's leaving.

He blinked, staring sightlessly at the crowd, his elbows on his knees, fingers linked loosely together.

Of course he had to leave. She was right, it was mission accomplished and moving on. Except that didn't sound right in his head. It didn't feel right in his heart.

Iris had started out as a mission, but when he'd held her in his arms in that warehouse, her blood slippery all over his fingers, she'd been so much more than that. He'd never been that terrified on a mission before, never felt so helpless. He'd promised to protect her and in the end, he hadn't.

It's not about the protection. It's about the loss.

Zane stared at the floor between his feet, grief suddenly thick in his head. All the grief he'd cut himself off from, that he tried not to feel. For his mother. For his father. For Charlie. For the loss of the family he'd once had.

Of course it was about the loss. It always had been. That's why he was running away. Because it was always easier to avoid pain than it was to confront it head-on. Easier to leave, to deny his emotions, than it was to admit that he cared. That he loved.

His brothers. Iris.

Zane closed his eyes, the truth he'd been trying to avoid all the way to Dallas crashing through him like a wrecking ball through an abandoned office tower.

Yeah, he was running away. Because he was afraid of losing not only his family once again, but the woman he'd fallen for without ever intending to.

But running didn't solve anything. Didn't change the feelings in his heart. The terrible fear and raw desperation, the aching longing and the red heat of desire.

He'd known her for only a brief time, yet he also knew that it didn't matter how far he ran, he would never be able to outrun it. These feelings would be with him for the rest of his life and nothing he told himself, no lie he spun to make himself feel better, would change it.

So what's the point in running?

Slowly, he let out a breath and lifted his head, gazing at the crowds around him.

There was no point. Running would make him no better than his dad, who'd run from his own grief straight into a pool full of booze and had let himself drown there.

There was no way in hell he was going to let himself do that.

Iris hadn't run. She'd taken a bullet and smiled, then told him she loved him. And what had he done? He'd turned his back on her. He'd left her like her mother had. He'd let her think it was something she'd done, when all this time he was the one with the problem. Christ, so many problems.

He couldn't let her think that. He couldn't do that to her.

It was time to stop running.

It was time to
truly
be the man who came back for her.

Zane wasn't really conscious of making a decision. One minute he was sitting on the bench, staring at nothing like a loser. The next he was on his feet and moving. Toward the airport doors.

And Iris.

Halfway through the night Iris woke up to the sounds of an argument, a man's familiar voice imperiously saying something she couldn't quite hear, followed by the lighter, but very certain tones of a woman. She wanted to wake up properly, because she was sure the man was Zane, but the pain meds were very strong and she'd soon dropped off to sleep again, the argument forgotten.

At least until she opened her eyes again to find her hospital room full of sunlight and a man sitting in a chair beside her bed.

A man whose brilliant blue eyes were currently fixed on her as if she were the only thing worth looking at in the entire universe.

A hot shock pulsed through her, jolting her completely awake. “Zane?” It came out more as a croak than anything else. “What are you doing here?”

He pushed himself out of the chair, rising to his full height, a flame burning fiercely in his eyes. “I got here last night,” he said, coming over to the bed. “They wouldn't let me in so I had to wait outside until visiting hours.” He lifted his hands as if to touch her and then stopped himself, pushing them into his pockets instead. The lines of his beautiful face were set and hard, a muscle in the side of his jaw leaping. “How are you feeling? Have they been giving you enough medication for the pain?” His gaze dropped along the entire length of her body and back up to her face, as if checking to make sure she was all there.

“I'm okay.” She struggled to push herself up and he made another move toward her, his hands reaching for her again, only to stop, hovering awkwardly in the air as if he didn't know what to do with them.

The uncertainty of his movements made her heart twist inside her chest, but there was nothing at all uncertain in the look he gave her. It was full of intense heat, an intensity she'd only caught glimpses of before. “You don't look okay,” he said, a fierce note vibrating in his deep voice. “You look like—”

“Like I was shot?” she finished, staring up at him.

The muscle in the side of his jaw leapt again. “Yes. I guess so.”

Her heartbeat was loud in her head, her breathing short, and she felt sore, her chest aching. It wasn't fair. She'd said her goodbyes to him so what the hell was he doing at her bedside? “I thought you were flying out of Dallas.”

“I was.” His gaze roved over her face like he was memorizing it. “In fact, when you spoke to me, I was at the airport getting ready to check in.”

“So what happened?” She wished she could have been cool, calm, and collected, but she couldn't quite keep the edge of pain out of her voice. “Did something better come up?”

“You could say that.” The look in his eyes burned bright and slowly he reached out to where her hand rested on the sheet, stopping short of touching her, a question in his gaze.

Her throat tightened. “It's okay,” she said hoarsely. “I won't break.”

He looked down at her hand and gently brushed the tips of his fingers over her skin. The heat of his touch sent shivers of delight through her, the shivers deepening into tremors as with infinite gentleness, he threaded his fingers through hers.

His gaze remained on their linked hands, staring hard at them. “My dad used to say that Redmonds stick together,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “And we did. But then my mom died of cancer and…we didn't stick together anymore.” He paused. “Like I told you, Dad drank to escape his grief. Quinn used to disappear for days at a time. Rush would drink like Dad, only he did it in a bar and usually with lots of women to keep him company. They were never around for me. No one was. I didn't just lose Mom, I lost my whole family.”

He fell silent again, but she didn't speak. She didn't think she could, not with her throat as tight as it was, her heart aching worse than her stupid gunshot wound. Aching for the young boy who'd had to watch his family losing themselves to grief.

Eventually, his gaze on their linked fingers, Zane said, “Then I found Charlie and she made me feel like I could make a difference. Only…I lost her too. And I decided after that, that I couldn't do it again. I couldn't deal with losing another person I loved. So I left.”

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she had to swallow a couple of times before she managed to find her voice. “I'm sorry,” she forced out. “I'm so sorry, Zane.”

At last he looked up, his fierce gaze meeting hers. “And that's why I left without saying goodbye. Because when you got shot, and I held you in my arms, with your blood all over my hands, I knew I couldn't handle it if you died. It wasn't about failing to protect you, Iris, it was about the possibility of losing you. And I thought if I just walked away, I could somehow leave behind all those feelings. But…” His fingers moved suddenly in hers, curling around hers, gripping tighter. “I can't outrun them, Iris. They'll still be there no matter how much distance I put between us.”

She found herself gripping him back, holding his hand as tightly as he was holding hers, her hand almost shaking. “What feelings?”

The intensity of his gaze didn't lessen. “Caring about you. Being afraid for you.”

It felt like a bubble bursting inside her, releasing the same certainty she'd felt in that warehouse. The certainty that he would come for her. That he'd find her no matter what. That he cared about her.

This was his warehouse. His fear was Shaw's gun.

And she was the protector coming to save him.

Gently, Iris reached over with her other hand and gathered his large, warm hand in both of hers. “Listen. I've been protecting myself for years after all and I've gotten pretty good at it.” She lifted his hand, brushing the back of it with her mouth. “I would never leave you. I would never walk away. What I need is you. And that's all.”

His gaze flared blue and she could feel the sudden tension in his arm, but she didn't let go. “You're braver than I am,” he said thickly. “I'm a goddamn coward. When I held you in my arms and you were bleeding everywhere, and I…” He stopped. “I just…can't lose you, Iris.”

“So don't lose me.” She stared into his eyes, seeing the struggle inside him, understanding it. He was a protector and he only saw himself in those terms. Just like she had only seen herself as a survivor. But she was more than that, they both were. “Stay with me instead. I may not need protecting, Zane, but I sure as hell do need loving, and I have a feeling you can do that better than anyone.”

He remained silent, the strength of his emotions raging like a storm behind his eyes.

God, she loved that about him. Loved his passionate intensity. The way he looked at her as if he was desperate to touch her and was only barely holding himself back. “I want to,” he said hoarsely. “Christ, I would spend the rest of my life proving it to you if I could. But…I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to deal with the fear.”

She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. “You don't,” she said simply. “All you can do is live with it. It's the price we pay for loving.”

He kept staring at her silently for a long time, as if he was trying to read something in her face, then shook his head, a strange half smile turning his mouth. “You're incredibly smart, you know that? Where did you learn all this stuff?”

“Jamie.” She smiled back. “I've spent most of my life being out-of-my-mind afraid for her, but if I wasn't afraid, that would mean I didn't care. And I can't not care about her.”

“I don't know if I can handle that.”

“Sure you can. You've been doing it all along. With your mom. Your dad. Charlie. And with your brothers.” She pressed another kiss to his hand. “You just don't know it yet.”

Zane stayed quiet a second longer, then he moved, coming closer, turning over the hand she held in hers, his big palm cupping her cheek. “I think I'm beginning to.” He smiled and her heart turned over in her chest, because she'd never seen him smile like that before. “You want to help make it a little clearer?”

Her throat was tight yet again. Stupid love. “Okay. Hold still.” She raised herself an inch and pressed her mouth to his.

A gentle kiss and sweet, his lips firm and warm on hers.

“How's that?” she murmured against his mouth, her breathing coming faster, her body waking into life.

“It's getting clearer.” He kissed her again, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips, tasting delicately, and she shivered, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. But much to her disappointment, he pulled back, leaning his forehead against hers. “I think we'll continue this
after
you're out of this hospital bed.”

She frowned. “But I—”

Zane lifted a finger and laid it over her tingling mouth. “Remember what I told you. You're mine, baby. And I always take care of what's mine.”

Her heart was expanding, large and full in her chest. “I love you, Zane Redmond. But you're a damn pussy-blocker.”

He smiled and it felt like her heart couldn't get any larger, pressing against the cage of her ribs. “All part of the plan, baby. All part of the plan.”

“What plan?”

His smile softened, but the blue flame burned even brighter. “What plan do you think? The plan to love you better than anyone ever has, Iris Callahan.”

T
WO MONTHS LATER…

Zane stood in the foyer of the Lone Star hotel, watching as a small eleven-year-old girl dashed up the stairs to the upper floors, shrieking happily, closely followed by a radiant and laughing Iris.

“This is a mistake,” Quinn said, scowling after them. “Kids in the hotel is not a good idea.”

“Oh, relax.” Zane grinned at the grumpy expression on his brother's face. “Jamie's only going to be here a week or so, just until Iris and I get our place sorted out.”

Which wouldn't be long. God, he couldn't wait. He and Iris had spent at least a month or so trying to find the perfect place for Jamie, because Quinn was right, living at Lone Star with a kid wasn't ideal. But a couple of weeks ago, they'd finally found the perfect house, kid friendly, close to a good school, and with a massive yard.

It had been expensive, but he could afford it. Hell, after one look on Iris's face as the real estate agent had showed them around, he would have moved heaven and earth to get it for her even if he couldn't. In fact, he was finding that over the last month or two, there was very little he wouldn't do for that one woman. Staying in Austin hadn't caused him one shred of regret, not a single one.

After Shaw and the rest of the cartel goons had been taken into custody, some real wrangling had had to be done in order to get a deal with the DA about Iris's charges. But they'd managed to come to an agreement that suited everyone. They were willing to drop the charges if Iris identified Shaw as her contact, plus give her name suppression. Which wasn't much when the cartel knew about her already, but Rush had put the word out to his criminal contacts that if anyone so much as touched her, there would be a price on their head.

As a threat, it was pretty effective since no one wanted half the criminal underworld hunting them down, and most especially not for some minor revenge on a pretty unimportant drug mule. The cartel had bigger fish to fry.

Once the legal loose ends had been tied up, then had come Jamie.

Meeting her for the first time had been a little nerve-wracking, he had to admit, but there had been a series of visits before Jamie had finally been released into their care, which had helped. She was a cool kid, very accepting in the way kids were and quite obviously thrilled to see her sister.

Quinn's scowl remained. “Keep her upstairs. No need for her to see all the shit that goes on down here.”

“Sure. She can stay in my room, play with my old guitar.” Zane glanced at his brother. “Speaking of, I'm surprised all my stuff wasn't put into storage. Know anything about that?”

“Nope. It was like that when I came back after Dad died.” There was a flash of green as Quinn glanced back. “All of our rooms were like that. I think he kept them in case we came back.”

There was a familiar twist in Zane's heart, a ghost of old anger, old pain. He'd talked to Iris a lot about his father, about his mother too, and for some reason that had helped the intensity of those feelings to fade, healing the wounds of betrayal and anger.

“The old bastard,” he said without heat. “I can't think why he thought we would.”

“I can.” His brother's voice was hard, certain. “I promised him. And I did.”

A silence fell.

Zane let out a breath, conscious of the tension in Quinn's posture. He didn't know what his brother's problem was, but there was one, that was obvious. It was also obvious that Quinn was not interested in talking about it.

Still, there was one thing Zane had been meaning to say for a long time, and it was only now that he felt he could say it. “I don't blame you, you know,” he said into the silence. “For Charlie. I don't blame any of you, not even Rush. Not even Dad.”

Quinn said nothing, but Zane could sense his tension all the same. So the guy didn't want to hear it? Too bad. He was going to say it because he needed to. Because he was staying, not leaving, and some things had to be said whether Quinn liked it or not.

“I blamed myself,” he went on. “For not protecting her, for not holding the family together after Mom died.” He paused. “I don't know if I ever told you, but one night I emptied all the bourbon in the house down the sink. Dad…was not happy about it.”

His brother stared at him. “What did he do?”

“He beat the shit out of me.”

Quinn looked away quite suddenly. “I'm not talking about this shit,” he growled. “I think I might go have a beer with Rush at Jack's.”

There was a time when he might have gotten angry with Quinn's refusal to deal with the past, but that time had passed. Being with Iris, loving her, had given him a perspective he'd lacked, and now he felt more at peace with it than he had in years.