by Pamela Clare
“Thanks.” His gaze raked over her. “You look…”
Derek coughed.
“Lovely,” Dylan said. “Hey, boss.”
“Glad to have you stateside, Cruz.”
Derek got them each a glass of champagne and guided her through the room, his hand on her lower back, introducing her to other staff, all of whom seemed to know who she was. Of course, they did.
Javier walked up to her, looking fabulous in black and white, Laura Nilsson, whom Jenna had seen on the TV news a thousand times, beside him. She was even prettier in person, with light blond hair, a slender figure, and lovely face.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Jenna. Javi has told me how incredibly brave you were. I’m so glad you’re home safe now.”
Jenna hadn’t been brave—not compared to Laura, but she didn’t say that. “Thank you. Javier, Derek, Malik, and everyone there in Mazar-e-Sharif were the brave ones.”
“I’ve got to disagree,” Javier said.
Derek gave Jenna’s hands a squeeze, his gaze warm. “They’re combat veterans, every one of them trained for that kind of work. You climbed out of a Land Cruiser under fire to save one of ours. No one here is going to forget that.”
“You must be Jenna.” The most beautiful woman Jenna had ever seen moved through the crowd toward them, her platinum blond hair in a stylish up-do, her perfect body in a beaded dress that hid almost nothing.
“Here comes trouble,” Derek mumbled, smiling.
Javier introduced them. “Jenna, this is Holly Andris, Nick Andris’ much better half. They both work for Cobra.”
Jenna wondered what kind of work Holly did. “Nice to meet you.”
Holly hugged her as if the two of them were old friends. “I’ve been dying to meet you. Thanks for saving Malik’s life.”
“I’m a midwife, so I have some experience—”
Holly’s eyes went wide. “A midwife? That’s right.”
“Yes. I worked at a women’s hospital in Afghanistan.”
Javier explained. “Holly’s pregnant—and a little nervous.”
Jenna could understand that. “Is this your first? If you have questions, I’d be happy to answer them.”
“Oh, you’re a sweetheart!”
Jenna glanced back over her shoulder as Holly led her someplace where they could talk and found him watching her, a soft smile on his lips.
Corbray and Derek joined Andris in a corner.
“Congrats, man.” Derek raised his champagne flute. “You’re going to be a father. That’s great.”
That was a mind-blowing thought.
Derek had known Andris almost as long as he’d known Javier. He was one of the first hires Derek and Corbray had made. The man kicked ass—and he’d come as a package deal, bringing Holly with him.
“Thanks. Holly’s pretty nervous about it.”
“I can’t blame her.” If Derek knew that nine months from now he was going to have to shit a watermelon, he’d be pretty nervous, too. “Jenna is talking with her.”
“Your Jenna is something else. I saw the drone footage. I saw what she did for Jones—and for you, too.” Andris turned to Corbray. “I hear he’s home.”
“Safe and sound and damned glad to be alive.”
Derek took hold of one of his lapels. “Hey, Corbray, remind me. Why do we force the staff to dress up like penguins every December?”
It was an old joke between them.
“Because we are a classy operation, bro.”
“I think you’re just living out some kind of James Bond fantasy.”
Andris snorted, raising his tumbler of whiskey in a salute. “Right.”
Corbray rolled his eyes. “I know you two are probably more comfortable hanging out in week-old ACUs that reek of ball sweat, but I like not being in camo once in a while.”
“My balls don’t sweat,” Derek countered.
Andris laughed. “Dude, seriously? I have been with you in a tent in the middle of the desert. It wasn’t roses I was smelling.”
“It was your own armpits.”
Then Corbray brought them up to date on the lawsuit against Jenna’s father—and news from Afghanistan. Their attorneys were close to filing the case in civil court. Repairs on the compound in Mazar-e-Sharif were almost complete. The shot-up Land Cruiser was being sold off and replaced with a new armored Land Rover, which was faster, more maneuverable, and got much better gas mileage.
Then Corbray got down to the real news. “President Alghani has launched an investigation into the attack at the airport. Apparently, Kazi doesn’t have the authority to ground air traffic. Also, we may or may not have fed Alghani intel about Kazi’s ties to Qassim.”
“Kazi is up to his eyebrows in his own shit.” Derek searched the room for Jenna and saw her sitting at a table in the corner, a hand resting on Holly’s shoulder.
Corbray followed the direction of his gaze. “Jenna is one hell of a woman.”
Derek couldn’t disagree. “Yes, she is.”
“She’s smart. She’s brave. And, brother, she is crazy in love with you.”
Derek’s pulse skipped. “I know.”
Andris grinned. “You just scared the shit out of him.”
Derek glared at them. “I care about her, too.”
Corbray laughed. “Don’t give me that ‘care’ bullshit. We’re talking about love here. The Big L. The forever kind of thing.”
Derek was tempted to tell both men to fuck off. “What’s it to you?”
Corbray slapped him on the back. “You’re hell in a fight, but you’re not great with relationships. I’d like to see you happy. Try not to fuck this up.”
The two men walked away, leaving Derek to stare after them.
Corbray’s words stayed with him, running through his mind as he and Jenna drove home. Did Corbray truly believe Derek would intentionally blow things with Jenna? It was true that Derek had never gone the distance with a woman, but maybe he just hadn’t met the right one.
That shit is for fairytales. You are the problem.
He had trouble getting close with women outside of sex, but it wasn’t just women. He found the emotional messiness of being connected to other people difficult. The closer people got to him, the more he pushed them away. He considered Corbray and Andris friends, but he kept most people at arm’s length, especially since Jimmy’s death.
No attachment, no loss. Is that it?
“Derek? Are you okay?” Jenna asked, bringing him back to the present. “You seem a million miles away. Did you get bad news?”
“No. Sorry. What were you saying?”
“Oh, just that Holly is terrified of how painful birth is. I told her to expect the worst pain of her life and to keep her options open. If she knows up front that she wants an epidural, she should make sure her practitioner knows that and is supportive.”
“Good advice.”
“You are a million miles away.” Jenna watched him, concern in her eyes.
Derek told her what Corbray had told him about Kazi. “I’d rather see the bastard get a bullet to the brain than come under investigation.”
This wasn’t what was on his mind, but what could he say—that he cared about her more than he’d cared about any woman and was terrified that he was going to hurt her?
He willed himself to focus on Jenna, only Jenna. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what I said earlier—about the going down on you, making you scream.”
She ran her hand over his upper thigh. “You promised.”
Derek’s blood went hot, his mind shifting to a much more enjoyable train of thought. “Oh, angel, you just wait.”
They parked, kissed on the way up in the elevator, Jenna arching against him. He punched in the entry code for his condo, getting it wrong the first time, lust making it damned hard to think.
They made it as far as the kitchen table.
He sat her on it, pushed her back, and tore off her pretty lace panties, tossing the tattered lace aside. Then he dropped
to his knees, rested her feet on his shoulders, and got to work, sucking her clit, stroking her inside, making her scream.
But Derek wasn’t done with her. When her climax had passed, he dragged her off the table, turned her around, and pounded into her from behind, reaching around to stroke her clit, carrying her over the edge once more before letting himself go.
“Jenna.” Her name felt like something sacred as he poured his soul into her.
They lay together in the darkness of his room after that, the turmoil inside Derek pushed aside in the afterglow. “Remind me to give Carolyn a fat tip.”
Jenna snuggled against him. “I’ll say this for you, Derek Tower. You are a man who keeps his promises.”
It was early January before Jenna got serious about the job search. She made excuses for herself along the way. It was the holiday season. She was still dealing with the emotional fallout of what had happened in Afghanistan. She wasn’t sure where she wanted to live. Blah. Blah.
It was all baloney.
She just didn’t want to face saying goodbye to Derek.
“Do you mind if I stay through the end of January?” she’d asked. “The jobs I’m applying for don’t close their searches until then, and I still need to find a place.”
“Stay as long as you like,” he’d said. But there had been something in his voice and the way he didn’t meet her gaze.
Was he tired of her?
The thought put a knot in her chest, but she brushed it aside.
If he was tired of her, he was doing a good job of hiding it. He held her at night, made love to her like a sex god, did little thoughtful things, like picking up her dirty clothes from his bedroom floor without grumbling about the mess and making sure she had coffee when she woke up in the morning. The man had surprised her with a bulletproof BMW X5 Security Plus as a Christmas gift, for goodness sake.
No, it wasn’t “I love you,” but those were not the actions of a man who wanted her to go away.
Still, she could tell something was troubling him. Though he’d never said a cross word to her, he seemed preoccupied. More than once, she’d found him lost in thought as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
Then again, he’d been tortured—stripped naked, threatened with castration, abused. If she was still haunted by what had happened that day, he must be hurting, too.
“Why don’t you have nightmares?” she’d asked him one night when he’d woken her during a terrifying dream.
He’d kissed her temple. “I do sometimes, but I’ve been through this before. I’m trained for it. That wasn’t the first time some asshole roughed me up.”
The thought had sickened Jenna.
She pulled herself together and applied for two jobs in Denver—one with a large practice that included OB-GYNs and certified nurse midwives and one with a smaller practice that focused on reproductive healthcare for low-income women, migrants, and incarcerated women. To her surprise, both offered her a position before their job application deadlines.
Jenna gave Derek the news after dinner on a snowy evening in mid-January.
“Congratulations. What are the pros and cons of each?”
“The one at the bigger practice pays much better and would involve fewer nights on call. The one with Women’s Health—the smaller practice—would mean a lot more nights and more deliveries, and I would have to learn Spanish.”
“Anyone who can learn to speak Dari as well as you do can master Spanish.” He drank the last of his red wine. “Which one appeals to you more?”
“To be honest, the job at Women’s Health. The practice I worked at in D.C. served mostly wealthy women who wanted particular birth environments, like waterbirths with chanting and candles and a gong and a video crew.”
Derek raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? A gong?”
His reaction made Jenna laugh. “Oh, yes. Well, only one with a gong.”
He shook his head. “Okay.”
“But the women in Afghanistan—all they wanted was for themselves and their babies to survive. It made all of the designer birth stuff seem…” Jenna searched for the right word, not wanting to be dismissive.
“Privileged?”
“Yes. That’s it exactly.” It helped that he understood. “I guess I want to be where I’m most needed. Does that make me a do-gooder?”
Derek reached over, took her hand in his. “If it were someone else, I might say yes. But I saw how hard you fought for that girl and her baby. You risked your life to treat the rape victims in that village. You saved Malik’s life. You did your best to take care of me. Do-gooders want glory. They want to be recognized for what they’ve done. I don’t see that in you at all. You truly want to help.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
“It sounds to me like you know which job you want.”
“Yes.” But now came the hard part. “The salary is pretty far below the median for a certified nurse midwife, so I need to find a condo I can afford, something not far from the clinic and Denver Women’s Prison. Do you know a realtor?”
It hurt to ask.
Derek’s gaze dropped to the table. “Yes. I can give you her number if you want.”
It wasn’t what she wanted at all, but she couldn’t impose herself on him. It had been weeks since she’d told him she loved him. The most he’d done is told her he cared about her, which was nice. But it wasn’t “I love you.”
“Thanks.” Jenna got up, carried their plates to the sink, afraid she was going to lose it and start crying.
He came up behind her, put his hands on the counter on both sides of her, pressed his lips against the back of her head. “Jenna, you don’t have to move out.”
She set the plates down. “I don’t want to impose. I—”
“You’re not imposing.” He turned her to face him, his expression unlike anything she’d seen.
He looked … afraid.
“Jenna, I … I’m …Ah, hell.”
She rested her palms against his chest. “It’s okay, Derek. I’m listening.”
He drew a breath, blew it out, tension rolling off him. He hadn’t seemed this nervous when bullets were flying. What was he trying to say?
“I wish this were easier.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m emotionally fucked up. I have trouble getting close to people, and I’m not always easy to get along with. I have money but no education. Your dad was right when he said I’m a nobody. I am terrified of disappointing you or hurting you, but I’m more afraid of living without you. This place wasn’t a home until you got here.”
Jenna looked up at him, stunned. “Are … are you asking me to stay with you?”
“I’m asking you to move in for good. I’m asking you to share my life. I’m trying to tell you … Damn.” He drew another breath. “I’m trying to tell you that I love you.”
Jenna’s heart skipped a beat. “You … what?”
“I love you. I love you, Jenna. I love you with everything I am. Stay here—with me. I promise I’ll do my damned best to be the man you deserve.”
Jenna cupped his face between her palms, sure he’d never spoken those words to any other woman. “You don’t have to change, Derek. We all have our rough edges. I love yours right where they are. My answer is yes.”
The naked relief on his face made Jenna’s heart swell.
He kissed her, spun her in a circle, the two of them laughing. “Champagne?”
“I’d love some.” Jenna reached up to rub her thumb over James’ dog tags, watching as Derek went into the wine refrigerator, chose a bottle, and uncorked it, so desperately in love with him that it hurt.
Thank you, James, for saving the life of the man I love. We’re together now. Because of you, we’re together.
Epilogue
Jenna held Holly’s hands while the nurse anesthetist inserted the epidural catheter. “You’re doing great. He’s almost done. In a few minutes, you’ll feel much less pain.”
“Thank God!”
Ni
ck watched the fetal heart monitor as another contraction started to build, his distress at his wife’s suffering written all over his face. He stroked her shoulder. “Here comes another one. Hopefully, it will be the last one you feel.”
Jenna had witnessed hundreds of husbands during labor, but few had been as caring or focused as Nick Andris.
Holly moaned, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands tightening around Jenna’s as the contraction grew stronger.
“Open your eyes, Holly. Look at me. That’s it. Just breathe.”
The nurse anesthetist taped the epidural catheter in place. “Okay. You’re all set. It will take a few minutes to kick in.”
Holly was breathing hard, anguish on her face. “Why can’t it kick in now?”
“The contraction is peaking,” Nick said. “You’re on the downhill side now. It’s almost over. Just a few more seconds.”
Holly’s grip loosened, her breathing slowing as the pain ebbed. “This is stupid painful.”
“Yes, it is, but you’re doing great.” Jenna had never seen the point of pretending as some midwives did. She’d met women who had grappled with PTSD due to the pain of childbirth, and she did her best to meet each woman’s needs. If they wanted epidurals, that was fine with her. She never tried to talk them out of it, like some CNMs she’d known. She wasn’t the one giving birth.
Nick helped Holly settle back against her pillows, kissed her forehead. “How does that feel?”
“Better. Thanks.”
The next contraction came and went with little pain.
“Whoever invented the epidural deserves the Nobel Prize,” said Holly.
Nick looked as relieved as his wife. He shook the anesthetist’s hand. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” The anesthetist cleaned up and pushed his cart toward the door. “If you need me, I’ll be around until seven a.m.”
Holly had gone into labor just after midnight—six hours ago. It had been mild until her water had broken. After that, she’d gone from three to five centimeters in an hour, and the pain had been much worse.
Jenna rested her hand on Holly’s thigh. “My advice, Holly, is that you rest now. When it comes time to push later, you’ll need your strength—and let’s face it, after tonight you won’t be getting a lot of sleep. You, too, Nick.”
