by Lilly Atlas
The idea of Chloe lying in his—their—bed, tears staining the pillow nearly made him turn around, but he forged on and climbed into the black Escalade idling in his driveway.
Once seated, he shot a quick text to his president and then Scott, letting him know he was out and to get his ass to Rocket’s house to pick up his sister. Then he turned off the device, slipped on his dark sunglasses, and transformed into the role of operative.
He had shit to do and a woman to return to.
I promise.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
AT EXACTLY TWO-fifteen a.m., sixteen days after Rocket left home, the same black Escalade he drove off in rolled up his quiet driveway. He’d never been so damn glad to see his house. And he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and wrap himself around the woman who’d been on his mind non-stop for the past two weeks.
An agitated restlessness zinged through him, making the journey home seem twice as long as it should have. The entire time, he’d felt like a caged animal, first trapped on a plane then hours in the damned Escalade wondering if in fact Chloe would still be at his house. Seeing her car parked at the top of the driveway tamped down some of the nerves, but actually finding her in his bed and getting his hands on her were the only things that would finally pacify the rabid beast inside him.
He blew out a breath trying to get himself in check, but it was useless. Until he touched his woman, he was going to be riding the line of sanity. The past two weeks had been far worse than advertised. He wouldn’t have believed the job could get shittier than murdering an innocent man and woman, but throw in a child and it was a million times worse.
The kid had been conveniently left out of the file Esposito presented him at the construction site. Once he arrived in Mexico, and received the full dossier, his mind had been blown by the absolute evil of the man he used to work for.
As the SUV came to a complete stop, Rocket ran a hand down his face. He was tired. So damned tired, and the atrocities that he’d been asked to commit on this mission would stick with him for a long time. Probably forever.
Without so much as a word for his driver, whoever the brooding fucker was, Rocket grabbed his bag and hopped out of the large SUV. He winced as the landing jarred his sore body, especially the brand-new knife wound on the back of his calf. The one that came dangerously close to severing his Achilles tendon. And what a fucking mess that would have been.
Walking slowly in deference to the multitude of bruises and aches he’d garnered this trip, he made his way toward the door. The Escalade sat idling behind him. What the fuck for? It’s not like he needed a babysitter to make sure he got in the house okay. God, he couldn’t wait to be in an actual bed. With a soft, warm, sleepy woman.
“I hear your objective was completed successfully. I suppose our business has concluded. For good this time,” Esposito’s voice came as no surprise. In fact, he’d expected the asshole much earlier. Seemed the old man enjoyed showing up uninvited to peoples’ homes.
“My part’s done. You still have a delivery to make.” Rocket made a dramatic show of looking around. “In fact, where is my package?”
“On its way. I expect it to arrive within two days. You’ll be contacted about a delivery time and location.” The motion lights attached to Rocket’s three car garage illuminated Esposito enough Rocket could see he wore black jeans and a black sweater.
Rocket took a step forward. “You fuck me on this, old man, and—”
“I won’t.”
The front door flew open and Chloe appeared on the porch. “Logan!” she cried as she started running down the four steps. When she reached the walkway, she came up short, her gaze bouncing between him and Esposito. “What’s going on?” she asked as though she could feel the thick tension.
God, she looked good, though perhaps a little thinner and exhausted. Rumpled from sleep or at least attempting to sleep, her hair hung long and disheveled down her back. She wore another of his T-shirts over a pair of stretchy black leggings.
Esposito smirked at Rocket before addressing Chloe. “Just congratulating your man on a job well done. Kinda surprised he had the balls to pull it off. Especially once he found out there was a kid involved.”
Chloe gasped then sent a horrified look his way. With her hand covering her mouth and another on her stomach, she looked like she was going to vomit.
“L-logan?” she asked. “Please tell me that isn’t true. You couldn’t have killed a child.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This shit was not supposed to go down this way. He stared at her, willing her to remain calm and give him a chance to explain.
“Logan?”
He flicked a glance to Esposito. The fucker was grinning ear to ear as though the impending showdown was the highlight of his miserable life. Keeping his gaze on the barefoot Chloe, Rocket stalked toward her, stopping when he hovered just inches away.
“Please?” she whispered.
“It’s true.”
The wail of agony that fell from her lips just about broke him. Chloe’s knees buckled but he managed to catch her before she hit the ground. The moment she was steady on her feet, she shoved out of his hold. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she shouted, backing away like he had the plague. “How could you?”
Rocket swallowed. His insides solidified to ice. It was the only way to survive the hatred in her stare.
Just as Chloe fled back into the house, no doubt to pack her shit, Esposito said, “Well, this has been entertaining. Sorry to say I won’t be in touch anymore, but you will be receiving payment soon.” After his customary two fingered salute, he climbed into the passenger seat of the Escalade Rocket returned in.
Rocket waited until the SUV was clear of his driveway and cruising down the street before entering his home. The place was tomb-quiet. Funny how with just a few weeks of having Chloe there, the silence he’d become accustomed to after living alone for so many years no longer felt comforting, but empty and cold.
Taking the steps two at a time, he ran upstairs and into his room. Chloe was stuffing as much as she could into the small suitcase she’d stashed under his bed.
“Chloe,” he said placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She jolted like he’d touched her with a live wire. “Don’t touch me!” Hands up, she backed away from him. Her eyes were wild, more yellow than green in that moment. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He advanced. They had to hash this shit out and it had to happen now. In ten minutes, company would arrive.
“Chloe, you need to listen to me,” he said, voice calm as he followed her retreating form.
“No,” she said. “I don’t have to do a goddamn thing, Rocket. Jesus, a kid? They wanted you to kill a kid? And you did it? This is all because of me.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Her back hit the wall and her eyes widened as she realized there wasn’t anywhere else to go. She lifted her hands, warding him off.
Or trying to.
That sure as hell wouldn’t stop him.
He crowded her against the wall as he grabbed her hands and lifted them high above her head. She fought him, wrenching with surprising power, and screaming curses at him. The strength required to hold her in place had his aching body screaming for relief. When she jammed her knee upward, he nearly lost his balls.
“Stop!” he shouted but the order either didn’t penetrate or she didn’t give a shit what he wanted. “Listen!” She struggled against him with all her might. To keep those wicked knees from unmanning him, he spread her legs and used his thighs to pin her to the wall.
“How could you?” she shouted over and over again.
He wanted to lean in and whisper the truth in her ear, but she’d probably take a chunk out of his neck, so he let her writhe until the fight began to dwindle. Even then, she used her fledgling energy to try and escape.
“How could you?” she choked out as her body finally sagged against the wall. Streaks of tears ran down her face.
Rocket leaned in until his mouth was directly against her ear. “I didn’t.” How could she believe he could commit such a heinous act? He thought they’d moved beyond her distrust of him and his club.
Her eyes flew open. “W-what?”
“I didn’t kill the child. I didn’t kill anyone.”
Her chest rose and fell against his as she stared up at him. “I don’t understand.”
The sound of gravel crunching had him looking out the window to find another SUV slowing to a stop. “I know,” he said. “Come on. I’ll explain everything.” He grabbed her hand and led her out of the room. She only hesitated for a second before following him. Still that one second was soul-crushing.
“You didn’t kill anyone?”
“No.”
“But Esposito thinks you did.”
“That’s right.”
Chloe stopped and tugged his hand. He came to a stop as well before turning to face her. “You’re hurt,” she said as though actually seeing him for the first time since he arrived home.
“It’s nothing. Bruises, a few cuts. I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, gripping her hair with her free hand. “I lost my mind when I heard him say—”
No way in hell did she owe him any apologies. He cupped her face between his palms and cut her off with a kiss. “Shh,” he said. “Not now. We need to get outside.”
With a nod, Chloe grabbed his hand this time and led him out to the porch. Rocket and the club may not have near the contacts Esposito did, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have their own connections. Ones they now owed some mega favors to.
“Hey, Rocket,” the tall dark-skinned man who exited the vehicle said.
“Johnson,” Rocket replied. “Any issues?”
“Nah, the little one slept nearly the whole time and the mother dozed on and off.” He rubbed his smooth head as his gaze drifted to Chloe.
Rocket slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Johnson this is Chloe. Clo this is a buddy of mine from my time with the Marines. Works for a competitor of Esposito these days.”
“Nice to meet you,” Chloe responded. “So what is this?”
“Special delivery,” Johnson said with a smile. He opened the back door of the SUV and helped a thin woman who couldn’t be older than early late twenties out of the car. With a baseball cap and dark baggy clothing, it was hard to tell exactly what she looked like, but she carried a sleeping child and had an air of sorrow around her.
Chloe gasped. “Is this—I mean—Were you…”
Rocket squeezed her hand. “Yes, this is Stacy and her daughter Rose.”
“Holy shit.” Chloe immediately stepped toward the terrified woman trying so hard to put on a brave face. “Your daughter is beautiful. How old is she?”
“Just turned three,” Stacy said in a small voice.
“We’re going to help you,” Chloe said with a soft smile as she stroked her hand over the sleeping child’s blonde head. “You have nothing to fear here.”
And that was his woman. Not afraid for her own safety or wondering what it would mean to have this woman in the house, but open and welcoming without question. And without even understanding why Rocket had a strange woman in his house at two in the morning. No wonder she’d wormed her way so deep under his skin.
“I’m gonna bug out,” Johnson said, handing Rocket a large duffle bag full of all the things Stacy and Rose now possessed in the world.
“Thanks man. I owe you one.” Rocket said clapping his buddy on the back.
“Nah. You worked so hard to keep Elena from spiraling out of control after Evan’s death. I’d say this almost makes us even.”
The mention of Elena was like a shot to the gut. Rocket grunted “Some job I did.”
“More than the rest of us.” Johnson held out a hand.
Rocket shook it, then his buddy slipped back into the car.
Chloe was gaping at him with a million questions in her eyes. “Let’s get these two inside and I’ll try to explain.”
She nodded. “Come on,” she said to a wide-eyed Stacy. “I’ve got a great room you can use. And a fantastic shower.”
It took about thirty minutes to get a snack for Rose and get the two settled in Rocket’s guest room. The child was scared, but so exhausted sleep won out after a short bout of tears and asking for her father. Chloe took care of getting them settled while Rocket showered the filth of the past two weeks off of him. Their guests would be at his house for no more than a few hours before it would be time for the next leg of their journey.
When he returned downstairs, he found Chloe sitting on the couch with a glass of whiskey, staring at the darkness outside.
After taking a sip, she held it up for him. Rocket downed it in one gulp as he sat down next to her.
“Tell me,” she said, turning to face him.
With a sigh, he let his weary head drop back on the couch and closed his eyes. He had no desire to tell the tale he’d have to repeat more than once over the next few days. What he wanted was to forget the whole damn mission ever happened. The next thing he knew, Chloe’s soft weight was pressed all along him as she straddled his lap.
“Tell me,” she said again.
He lifted a lock of her hair and brought it to his nose. It smelled of fresh peaches. “Stacy and her husband Allen are—were—missionaries in Mexico for about three years. While they were there, they became involved with a group that helps citizens escape from the cartel. Mostly people on the cartel’s shit list. This group works to get them into America legally, and illegally in some cases. Whatever they have to do to ensure the safety of those needing to flee the country. The couple stayed after their missionary work ended, and basically took over running the organization. Cartel eventually discovered who they were and wanted them eliminated. Esposito won the very lucrative contract.”
“Oh, my God,” she said on an exhale as she laid her head on his chest. “That’s so fucked up.”
“Yeah.”
“So…”
He slid his hands under her shirt and glided his palms up and down the smooth expanse of her back. She practically purred as she burrowed into him. “I never intended to kill any of them.”
“I know.”
Her faith in him was astonishing.
“I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier. I was just so shocked by what Esposito said. I know you. I trust you.”
“It’s okay,” he said, ignoring the punch of uncertainty.
She lifted her head. The sincerity in her eyes obliterated any lingering doubt. “No, it’s not. You need to know I have faith in you and know you would never kill innocent people.” She tucked her head back under his chin. “So how’d you get them out?”
“Once I was able to explain to Stacy about the danger they were in, the three of us set a plan in motion. “Between my contacts, the club’s contacts, and Stacy and Allen’s surprising network of connections, we were able to stage their deaths by blowing up their home. Then we snuck them out of Mexico.”
“Hmmm, somehow I think it was much more complicated than you’re letting on.”
She had no idea. In fact, the entire plan almost went south when they encountered a group of cartel enforcers before they’d even finished developing their escape plan. At first, Rocket thought Esposito had sent them to eliminate him, but the old man seemed convinced the targets had been eliminated.
“Where’s her husband?”
Rocket looked at the ceiling, swallowing the lump of sadness that formed in his throat. Allen had been a genuinely good man. One who loved his wife, loved his daughter, and spent his life working to make others’ lives better. “He didn’t make it. We were attacked by members of the cartel outside their house and he was shot. Stacy and I dragged him inside and tried to save him, but he died quickly. We had to alter our plans and get outta dodge early, so we torched the house and fucking fled.”
She brought her hand up to her heart, eyes full of grief. “That poor woman.”
Chloe ran a soft fingertip over a cut on his forehead. “It was a close call.”
He grunted.
“So what happens to Stacy and Rose now? Will they stay here with us?”
A small smile curled his lips. Had she even realized what she said? Stay here with us? Did that mean she wasn’t planning to run back to her house now that the threat had been eliminated?
“I know someone who runs a women’s shelter a few hours from here. The club has used them in the past when we retrieved some girls Lefty had been selling. Screw will be here in about ninety minutes. We’re going to drive them up there.”
“Should I come?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m pretty sure we’re in the clear but I need you here to act as though everything is normal in case DarkOps has eyes on the house.”
“All right.”
“I’ll be home late tomorrow night, but one of my brothers will be here all day. We’re going to hit up various places. Throw off anyone who may be following.”
“Do you think they are? Watching us?”
He shook his head. “No. Just being overly cautious.”
She let out a breath. “I hate that you’re hurt.” Chloe leaned forward and ghosted her lips over the cut she’d been touching. Then she kissed the bruise around his eye. And the host of additional bruises on his face, neck, and arms.
The gentle touches were so in contrast to the two weeks of violence and stress. When she’d doled her affection on the majority of his injuries, she tucked her head under his chin and held him tight. “I love listening to your heart beat below my ear. It’s the most soothing sound. So strong and steady, just like you, Logan. I was so worried while you were gone. But I shouldn’t have been. You made me a promise and you kept it.”
When the word love passed her lips, the heart she was listening to nearly stopped beating. For a second, he thought an actual profession of love would follow.
Maybe he was just projecting, because as she melted into him, he couldn’t imagine a future where he came home and she wasn’t waiting for him with her sweet smile and gentle touch. Nothing helped bandage his battered soul quite like having Chloe in his arms.
