Retrieval

by Aly Martinez

  I giggled. I loved Cathy Leblanc. And I loved that she loved me enough to punish her own son for being a dumbass. “Your mom is amazing.”

  He grinned. “So, basically, you’re worried about my dad?”

  “No. Rome has always loved me.”

  And he had. He hadn’t batted an eye when he’d found out Roman and I were already married when he first met me, which was only approximately forty-eight hours after I’d met Roman. He’d just slapped his son on the back and congratulated him for recognizing a good woman when he’d found one. Simple as that.

  “Okay, baby, I don’t have any long-lost brothers you don’t know about. Kristen, Mom, and Dad are the only ones coming over. And you’ve already admitted that you love them all. Care to let me in on what exactly you’re flipping your shit about?”

  “It’s not just Kristen. Or Cathy. Or Rome. It’s all of them. At the same time. And I don’t even know what the current state of our relationship is.”

  His eyebrows furrowed together as he frowned. “Okay, now, we have a problem. What in the ever-loving hell do you mean you don’t even know ‘the current state of our relationship’?”

  Yep. He totally tossed me a pair of air quotes.

  I rolled my eyes. “I mean…how are we presenting this to them? Am I your ex-wife? Girlfriend? Wife?”

  He stared at me blankly before grunting, “Yes.”

  “Yes. What?” I threw my hands out to the sides in frustration.

  I was up off the floor before I knew it. My ass landed on the counter, Roman wedged between my legs, his hands on my hips.

  “Was I inside you last night?”

  He had been. And we both knew it.

  “Jesus, Roman.” I glanced around to make sure Devon and Alex weren’t in earshot.

  I guessed he took that as my answer, because he continued. “You love me?”

  “Of course,” I replied immediately.

  “You planning to make a life with me?”

  “I…I…” I stuttered in surprise.

  He arched an eyebrow.

  “I mean…yeah. I was kinda hoping to.” I began chewing on my bottom lip.

  We hadn’t talked about the future yet. Though it was kind of a given.

  He smiled and moved his hands to the counter, one on either side of me, and kissed me—hard.

  My body responded immediately, my nipples tingling, my toes curling, sparks igniting.

  Ya know, the usual when it came to Roman.

  I slid a hand around his neck and slanted my head to take it deeper. His tongue glided with mine as I shimmied to the edge of the counter and locked my legs around his hips.

  He continued to kiss me, but I became vaguely aware of him digging something out of his back pocket.

  My stomach fluttered in the best possible way.

  Oh. God. This was it.

  He was going to propose again.

  I was actually impressed he’d made it nearly two weeks.

  My heart pounded in my chest as I asked, “W-what are you doing?”

  I felt something land on my thigh, both of his hands fumbling with it.

  I pried my lips from his and glanced down to see his hands digging in his wallet.

  Then out came a ring.

  Only he slid it onto his own finger.

  “Uh…” I dodged his lips as he attempted to catch my mouth again. “Did you just give yourself a ring?”

  “No. I just put the ring you gave me back on,” he said, moving in for another kiss, but I turned my head, so his lips landed on my cheek instead.

  “You keep your wedding ring in your wallet?” I had no idea why that was the part that had surprised me most.

  “I only took it off to get people at the office to stop asking questions. But you gave me that ring. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to hide it away in some box at the top of my closet. Why? Where’s yours?”

  I bit my lip and looked away sheepishly. “In a box at the top of my closet.”

  Chuckling, he pressed his lips to my temple. “I’ll send Devon to go get it. You need to at least be wearing your engagement ring when my parents get here. Considering I already told them we were getting remarried.”

  I swung my head to face him, my eyes bulging in disbelief. “You did not!”

  He shrugged.

  “You didn’t even ask me yet. I have the right to refuse.”

  He twisted his lips and gave me a teasing side-eye. “You were gonna say yes.”

  “You don’t know! I could totally say no.”

  This time, he laughed, throwing his head back and everything.

  “Roman, I’m serious,” I scolded.

  Still laughing, he looked back at me and said, “I have no doubt that you are, Lissy. But I also know you would have said yes at the police station if I’d asked.”

  “I would not!”

  “You would.”

  “I would not.”

  “You would.”

  “I would not!”

  He leaned in close. “You would.”

  “Roman…” I was preparing to let him know exactly what I thought of his proposal assumptions when he suddenly produced a huge diamond ring out of thin air and lifted it into my line of sight.

  Any further objections died in my mouth.

  “Like I said.” He smirked, taking my hand and sliding the ring on my finger. “You should probably put on your engagement ring before my parents get here.”

  My vision swam, and my lungs seized.

  He’d proposed—kinda.

  He wanted to be my husband again.

  And I wanted to be his wife more than I’d ever wanted anything.

  It might have taken us some time to figure it out.

  But we’d fallen in love in less than a day.

  Not even utter devastation and two years apart could erase that.

  A love like ours wasn’t measured in years, distance, or time apart.

  It was never-ending.

  An electrical current traveled through me, prickling the hairs on the back of my neck the same way it had the first time I’d laid eyes on him and then again that day at the police station.

  Only, this time, I realized that it was the overwhelming sensation of right.

  The diamond was gorgeous, but that feeling had less to do with the stone and more to do with the man who had given it to me.

  He was right.

  We were right.

  We’d always been right.

  So, with absolute certainty—and despite the fact that he hadn’t asked—I laughed a throaty, “Yes.”

  His smile grew exponentially. Then he pressed his smiling mouth to mine and taunted, “See? I told you you’d say yes.”

  I slapped his arms and wiped a stray tear on my shoulder. “Don’t be an ass right now. I’m too happy to give you any attitude.”

  “Okay, Elisabeth Leblanc—with an S and a lowercase B—I won’t be an ass right now while you’re feeling happy.”

  The familiar words turned the waterworks on full force. “God, don’t be sweet, either. Just stand there and tell me you love me.”

  “I love you.”

  He did. I had not one single doubt about that.

  I threw my arms around his neck, buried my face in his neck, and mumbled, “Never mind. That just made it worse.”

  His shoulders shook as he laughed, and he smoothed his hands up and down my back, his lips peppering kisses anywhere his mouth could reach.

  It was then that I understood what he’d meant when he’d said that his lungs had inflated for the first time since he’d found me sitting on the couch the night I left.

  Because, for the first time since I’d made the decision to leave, I took my first real breath. I clung to his shoulders and basked in the beauty of it all.

  After a few minutes, he murmured, “Baby, you gotta let me go if I still need to go dig up some sweet potatoes.”

  I sniffled and sat up, staring down at my ring. “Nah. I think this will be enough to distract t
hem from the lack of carbohydrates on the table.”

  “Probably.” He grinned just as the front door swung wide open and Kristen sauntered in with Devon on her heels, carrying a huge tray of pies.

  “Damn it, Kristen,” Roman barked, shoving away from me and striding toward his sister. “He’s a bodyguard, not a bellhop.”

  “Oh, shut up, Roman. He offered to help. Besides, he’s going to be eating some of it, too.” She batted her eyelashes. “I made extra since I’m sure a big, strong guy like Devon has quite an appetite.” She bit her lip and shot Roman an exaggerated wink.

  While Kristen did think Devon was hot (and he was), she really just enjoyed screwing with her brother.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he bit out, snatching the tray from Devon’s hands.

  “Roman!” Cathy scolded as she came through the front door. “It’s Thanksgiving. Can you give the cursing a rest?” Her hands were filled with a million bags, and a huge smile covered her face as her gaze met mine.

  I hopped off the counter, straightened my dress, and headed to help her. I was pulling bags from her hands when I was wrapped in a hug from behind.

  “My girl came home,” Rome mumbled to himself before releasing me. Taking the bags from my hands, he grumbled at his wife, “Woman, I told you I’d get the bags.”

  “And I told you…” She kept talking, but I lost her words as she bustled to the kitchen.

  As I watched the man I loved—who, only minutes earlier, had slipped a ring on my finger—as he argued with his sister in the kitchen, his parents chattering under their breath, and one lost and confused bodyguard skillfully trying to make his escape out the back door, I realized that Rome was not wrong.

  I was home.

  “Shelly,” I called to my secretary. “Where is the new offer from Wells?”

  She peeked her head around the corner. “I’m assuming it’s on the table with the rest of your mail. I didn’t open anything that was personally addressed to you.”

  I groaned, cutting my eyes to the table that had to be moved into my office sometime over the last week, for no other purpose than to hold all of the mail I’d received while I’d been out.

  I quietly cursed myself for having made the rule about mail after Shelly had opened a blow-up doll Kristen had sent to the office for my birthday. Only it hadn’t been my birthday and she’d only done it because she was pissed and knew that my secretary opened all my mail. She’d ordered it on her cell phone while impatiently sitting in the chair across from the desk, waiting for me to get off a business call.

  Taking two weeks off to spend time with Elisabeth had been amazing. Part of it had been spent working with attorneys to figure out the best course of action in getting custody of a child who I couldn’t even prove was mine. However, the other part, where I’d gotten to know Elisabeth again and then convinced her to marry me again, had been worth every minute of coming back to mountains of work at the office.

  Less than two seconds after walking into my office, I made the decision that I needed to hire someone to help me run things.

  I’d worked a lot since starting Leblanc Industries, but now that I had Elisabeth back, I had no interest in spending eighteen hours a day away from her. It was time I started living again, and what better way than with the woman I loved at my side.

  “Thanks, Shelly,” I said, dismissing her and moving toward an only slightly smaller version of the Alps made out of unopened boxes and envelopes.

  Twenty minutes later, I was still searching for a more-than-likely-shit offer from Wells when my hand landed on a padded envelope with no return address. I flipped it over to check the back, but besides my address and a postmark from nine days ago, it was completely blank.

  Curious, I ripped the top off, slid the contents out, and then stopped breathing.

  My entire body turned to granite when I realized what I was holding.

  Two plastic baggies filled with four Q-tips each.

  Another filled with curly, blond hairs.

  Another with darker-blond locks.

  And, finally, a toothbrush.

  I frantically tore the two pieces of folded paper open.

  One was a generic consent to DNA testing that had to have been printed off the Internet, but the only thing that mattered was that it had Tessa’s name at the top and it had been signed by Clare Noir.

  The second paper caused a heavy weight to sink in my stomach.

  Hand-written on an otherwise blank piece of paper was a note that said:

  Roman,

  You were right. I should have gotten in the car. Unfortunately, you were wrong too. There’s nothing that can be done to help me anymore, but I’m begging you to use this DNA and do what I can’t.

  Save Tessa. Get her as far away from Walt as you can, even if that means away from me too.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what you’d need, so I swabbed each of our mouths with the Q-tips. The toothbrush is Walt’s.

  All I ask is that, one day, when I’m gone, you’ll remind her how much I loved her.

  Please hurry.

  -Clare

  I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach even as my mind celebrated the breakthrough.

  That woman was handing me a child she loved.

  My child.

  Elisabeth’s child

  Clare’s child.

  Despite the fact that it meant losing her.

  My stomach wrenched at such a selfless sacrifice.

  My conscience exploded with guilt.

  I couldn’t leave her hanging in the breeze.

  But I had no idea what the fuck I could do.

  I slid the contents back in the envelope and marched over to my desk. Then I snatched the receiver up as I dragged my wallet from my pocket and found his card.

  “Light,” he growled in greeting.

  “I just got a package in the mail from Clare Noir. A legal consent for testing, baggies full of possible DNA for her, Tessa, and Walter, and a letter begging me to save the girl.”

  Silence.

  “Heath! Did you hear me?”

  “Walt’s DNA won’t be admissible in court,” he said, emotionless.

  “Hers will though. And, if we can confirm that Tessa is Elisabeth’s, that’s all we need to prove foul play, right?”

  He didn’t answer my question. “You at the office?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hang tight. I’m on my way.” Then he hung up.

  Keeping the phone to my ear, I hit the button with my hand then released it and dialed again. “I need to speak with Detective Rorke immediately. It’s an emergency.”

  After I’d relayed the story to him, he too stated that he was on his way over to my office then disconnected.

  I debated calling Elisabeth, but I didn’t want to get her hopes up. I had no fucking idea what the hell this meant for us. Yes, we now had the DNA, but I had a feeling getting custody of that little girl wasn’t going to be an overnight process.

  With restless legs, I spent the next fifteen minutes pacing my office as I reread the letter from Clare over and over again. Each time I finished, my anxiety and my resolve to help her grew stronger.

  By the time Heath came striding through my door, I was roaring with adrenaline.

  “Letter!” he demanded.

  I handed it his way then fisted my hands on my hips and watched him read, recounting each word by memory as his eyes scanned the page. His jaw clenched, the muscles twitching as he ground his teeth.

  I waited. And waited. And waited.

  He had to have read it at least four times. But he never looked up.

  “What are my options here?” I finally asked.

  He said not a single word as he dropped the letter to the floor and headed right back out my door.

  “Light,” I called after him.

  His long legs swallowed up the distance to the elevator as I marched after him.

  “Where the fuck are you going? I need some help here.”

  Hi
s blue gaze swung to mine, causing me to flinch when I caught sight of the hollow orbs staring back at me. He shook his head, raked a hand through his hair, and boomed, “Fuck!” His fist slammed into the metal doors just before they slid open and revealed Rorke standing inside.

  The air turned thick as the two men saw each other.

  “You are not here,” Heath said dangerously.

  “Light,” Rorke warned.

  He took a giant step into the elevator, bumping his chest with Rorke’s. “You are not fucking here!”

  I caught the elevator door before it closed and climbed inside. “What the fuck is going on?” I rumbled, squeezing in front of Heath, who had passed the point of anger and was teetering precariously on the edge of blinding rage.

  “This man just cost you your daughter,” he growled.

  My body jerked. “Excuse me?” I planted a hand on his chest and turned to face Rorke.

  “I did not!” the detective assured, visibly shaken.

  “You smoke your mole out yet?” Heath shot over my shoulder. “Because I guarantee Walter Noir has heard that his wife gave up DNA to the police and they are both probably dead or dying by now.”

  Rorke cocked his head to the side and spat, “I kept it quiet.”

  Heath turned and jabbed the L button, muttering under his breath, “If you know, it’s not quiet enough.”

  My mind was spinning, and I couldn’t keep up. Finally, I’d had enough. “Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on right fucking now!” I seethed in a volatile whisper.

  Rorke started with, “Light thinks—”

  He didn’t get another word out before Heath dove around me, grabbed the front of his shirt, and slammed him up against the back of the elevator, snarling, “I know! I don’t think! I fucking know! You have a goddamn cop feeding Noir our every move. Now, once again, I have to figure out a way to clean up your mess.”

  “You’re not cleaning up shit, Light. You go anywhere near that house, you’ll blow the entire investigation.”