by Lora Ann
“Son,” a deep voice penetrated through his pleading and crying. “He doesn’t want you to bargain with Him.”
Red eyes looked up to see that bright man again. He was a fierce looking warrior. And Cole’s little legs began to shake. “What are you?”
“I think you know,” came his reply along with a slight smile.
“You’re an angel? But where are your wings?” His small voice barely a whisper.
“Yes,” the angel breathed. “They’re here.” He moved them over the child.
Cole inhaled the scent, making him feel warm and protected. They felt so soft, yet strong. “Why are you fighting?”
The angel cocked his head. “It is my honor, my duty.” A puzzled gaze met his, so he explained, “My job is to fight against evil.”
“The shadow men,” Cole responded with eyes darting to see if they were around and heard him. “They’re scary.”
“Little man, you have no idea.” Then he angled his head, perhaps the child did know. “You mentioned something about not telling.”
Cole curled up tight and buried his head on his knees. “I can’t tell you,” he murmured so softly a human wouldn’t have heard.
The angel, who’d been kneeling, moved to sit directly next to the boy. “Doing what’s right is sometimes one of the hardest things to do. Cole…look at me.”
His eyes traveled over the warrior. “You know my name.”
“I do. You are a very special young man.”
“I am?” he gasped.
“Yes, and I—”
The space next to Cole was empty. His questing fingers poked in the air. “Where are you?” His agitations visible to his mother as she approached.
“What are you doing?”
His gaze met hers. She’d been crying. He stood to go to her when he stopped abruptly and screamed.
Embarrassed at his outburst she “shhh’d” him. But his look of terror sent chills all over her skin. Did he know what she’d just done? Surely he’d left the room and never snuck back in. “What did you see?” She grabbed his tiny shoulders and gave a little shake.
His eyes were as wide as saucers and he fought to get out of her grasp. “Let me go. Let me goooooooo!”
“Stop it, Cole Andrew McNeil! Stop that right now,” she ordered.
He did no such thing, fighting harder to get away from her. He kicked and kicked until his foot finally made purchase with her shin. Her yelp of pain could be heard as he backed away.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she grit out.
“Shadow. You have a shadow man,” he gasped and moved further from her.
She stared at him in bewilderment. What the fuck was a shadow man? His pointing finger and hysterical voice drew the attention she hoped to avoid. “Cole, honey, just calm down,” she said for her audience. Though she desperately needed to know if he saw what happened in Tar’s room.
A doctor approached. “Ma’am, is he your son?”
“Yes.”
“I think we need to admit him for observation.”
“But he’s not hurt or sick,” she answered in dismay.
“I meant psychological,” he explained.
“I-I,” she stuttered.
But then a whisper was in her ear. “If he’s found insane, it won’t matter what he saw.”
A tiny part of her heart protested. She was a mother. Her child came before her. Yet her son knew of her lies, her crimes, so keeping him silent was a necessity. She stood ramrod straight and met the doctor’s gaze. “Okay. Do what you need to help him.”
Cole took off at a dead run, rounding a corner in time to see it. The monitors beeped and there was a bag holding fluid. His eyes followed the tube to the arm where there was some blood. He heard a nurse speaking to the person whose entire head was wrapped. The mummy’s gaze catching his. He knew those eyes! “Un-un-cle T-t-tarrrrrr,” he gasped on a cry.
The nurse turned. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.”
Cole backed away, shaking his head. His uncle couldn’t die. A feeling deep down in his stomach told him his mom did something very, very bad. He needed to find the angel. But before he could look for him, strong arms snatched him up.
“Now, now, Cole, we just want to help,” the doctor coerced.
He screamed, “Noooooooooo!” just as something bit his arm. Cole saw his mother, standing in the hall, with the shadow man’s arm around her shoulders. Everything began to fade.
Lisa stroked her son’s hair after they placed him on the gurney. “Rest well, baby. Everything will be okay.” She kissed him softly as he fought to stay awake.
He couldn’t fight it any longer, drifting away into the dark.
*****
Chase sat across the table from her admiring her new look. Or, was it appreciating what she was doing? He pondered that, for a moment, around a bite of tender steak. She’d definitely paid attention to detail. Her hair now cascading over her shoulders in brunette curls. “You did this for me,” he said as his hand swept from her head down.
Blue eyes, instead of the green he’d grown accustomed to, met his. “I thought it might make it easier for you.” She knew he struggled with infidelity, something that made her respect him more. Her vow, as she did her makeover, was not to have intercourse with him. His emotional state was fragile enough.
“I appreciate that.” He wiped his mouth on a linen napkin. “You really went all out to make this look like a real date.” From the small two-person table to the candles lit around the room, his gratitude grew stronger. Soft, romantic instrumental music was playing as he stood, offering his hand. “May I have this dance?”
She smiled up at him, liking him more and more. The big DANGER ZONE sign with black and yellow stripes—in her mind—was a barrier as she stood in the fold of his arms. Ignoring the warnings, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let the music infuse her. “This is nice. Thank you.”
He gazed into her eyes. “You make it easy,” he whispered.
“I do?” Damn, where did that vulnerability come from?
His lips feathered across her forehead. “Very much so. If things were different…” he trailed off, leaving her with her own thoughts on the matter.
She hadn’t felt like this with a man since Joe. The realization hitting her like a freight train, stealing her breath. Tears began to trickle as she attempted to hide her face in his shoulder. “I agree.” Her words full of emotions as her voice caught.
He held her, aware she was lost to some memory, wanting to give her a moment of privacy. His hand soothing as it moved up and down her back. “He must have been someone quite special for you to miss him so much,” he hedged, hoping she’d open up to him. Her sigh tickled along his neck sending shivers south.
“My husband is dead,” she declared, “and nothing will bring him back.” What would he say if he saw what she’d become? He’d never let Viv play and had kept Caleb away from her, other than the occasional beating. But when that was the case, he was usually incapacitated to aid her in any way.
Chase put enough distance between their bodies to place his hands on either side of her jaw, gently tilting her head up. “You’re beautiful.”
She held her breath a little too long as dizziness took over. His warm breath was at her cheek. She gasped, “You don’t see the real me.”
He heard the pain in that confession. Understood it on an elemental level. No longer did he know himself, too much of him had been stolen, until all that was left was this shell of a man. His lips made contact with the soft skin of her neck, slowly caressing her. “I know exactly what you mean.” The need to do something more left him unstable, speaking against her jaw. “Let’s find some part of us that is real.” He wasn’t sure if her permission would make him comfortable, still at war with what was morally right.
Carla’s desire grew hungrier, which surprised her. She hadn’t craved a man since Joe had been killed in that mine shaft by Even Strand. Though it was Caleb’s fault they were in such a posi
tion to begin with. His sick need to torture and kill blonde prostitutes took a turn that projected her into the starring role of murderer. A part she never wanted to play. But villain seemed to come natural to her. Maybe it came from studying under the Master of Deranged and Demented. With each swipe of his lips along her neck, she was releasing it all. Her only focus was on this wounded, damaged man, who needed to know he could still perform. She broke away to think clearly and began to unbutton his shirt, kissing each spot of exposed skin.
Chase was at war within himself. He wanted Dr. Thompson desperately, but that was carnal need. His wife was probably beside herself with worry, he couldn’t do this to her. “Carla,” he forced out, “you have to stop.”
“Trust me. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
There was the crux. He wanted. Holy fuck did he want. “I can’t do this,” he begged.
Her fingers traveled down his pants and underwear until she stroked his erection. “You’re aroused. That’s good,” she purred, moving to her knees.
“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned as she freed him.
Her fingers fluttered along his length. “You tell me what to do,” she assured with gentle squeezes.
God, he wanted her to suck him off but knew that was crossing the line. Hell, he already had a toe over it. He grabbed himself and removed her hand from him. “Just watch.”
She nodded, fascinated by the way he handled himself. The sight made her desperate for more. “May I touch myself?”
His strained “noooooo,” took her by surprise. Yet sitting there before him as he masturbated, was stimulating on a level she wasn’t familiar with.
He did his damnedest to visualize Lisa in front of him, closing his eyes to help. His hand picked up speed as his other one moved to his balls. The fire licking up. He couldn’t stop himself from locking his gaze to hers. And what he saw sent him into a frenzy. Her gaze was like a ravenous tongue on his hard as steel cock. He was lost to the pleasure and erupted over her face. His intention was clear as his eyes devoured the wetness across her cheeks and mouth. A loud noise broke the spell. “What was that?” he asked with a tremble in his voice.
From exertion, moral dilemma, or fear, she couldn’t quite tell, searching for something to clean herself up with. Her own anxiety was kicking her pulse into overdrive. But after watching him, she only wanted more. He made her feel. His touch. His kiss. It all spelled d-i-s-a-s-t-e-r for them both. There was no way she’d let Clark or any other of those degenerates harm him again. “Stay here,” she commanded.
Chase stood there, wondering what the hell he was going to do. And terrified he might not live to know. One thing was certain, he could function like any other man, and now, he wanted more. God help him, that desire was for Carla.
Chapter Thirteen
Tears spilled onto the blanket as she looked down at the white gauze covering his entire head. She knew she shouldn’t be there. Mitch’s argument was legitimate. She was putting them all at risk even more than they already were. But in the end, he relented to E and Alex. Keeley knew he loved Tar like a brother. All evident in his final words, “Make sure he knows I’m pulling for him.”
She now whispered around a sob, “Come back to me, baby. I need you to fight harder.”
His groan drew her attention to details. None of it made sense. The surgery had gone well. His memory was spotty at best but he was talking and recognizing people, as well as things and events. So how? She gently traced a finger along his handsome face, once more memorizing every angle. Her fingers recalling the feel of him. Prickles from his short beard scratched along the sensitive tips on her exploration. If she dared, she’d look under those bandages too. But knew that wasn’t in his best interest, so she tamped down the urge.
A squeak of rubber soles on the tiled floor brought her head around to the door. The nurse gasped, “Oh, I’m sorry, visiting hours aren’t until nine o’clock.”
She gave a watery smile, searching for a lie that would buy her time. “My work schedule doesn’t fall into visiting hours.”
“Yeah, mine either,” she said with a kind grin. “You can stay as long as you don’t disturb him.”
“Thank you,” she studied the tag hanging from her lanyard, “Christy.”
“Don’t thank me just yet,” she cautioned, “I can’t let you stay in here long.”
“I understand.” Her attention now focused on Tar. “Do you know it’s me?”
Christy provided much needed information. “It’s hard to tell when their memory comes back online, so to speak. Head injuries are unpredictable suckers. But this poor man…” Her voice trailed off as she checked the bags of fluid above his head. “His relapse was expected; however, the new wound was not. He’s really been through the wringer. A soldier in every aspect of the word.” She was now tapping something into a hand-held device.
Keeley was caught on ‘new wound’ and prodded for more information. “He was reinjured?”
“Darnedest thing. Like someone clocked him over the head. But that doesn’t make any sense. From what we could tell, he tried to stand without assistance and fell. Of course that matched her story.”
“Her?” She knew this was all confidential and was grateful to have it. And how had he fallen again? Wouldn’t there have been some sort of safety measure in place to prevent it? Then she remembered who they were discussing. Tar was stubborn.
“His lady friend. She’s in here a lot. Sad thing about her little boy.”
Keeley’s heart began to thump harder. Lisa being there wasn’t surprising, though it did make her angry. She had no right after her role in this debacle. But her worry was for Tar’s nephew. “What happened to Cole?”
Christy held her gaze knowing she wasn’t supposed to give out this kind of information unless it was to family. “I can’t give specifics. But he’s a patient here in the psychiatric ward.”
She gasped, “Oh, no!” Her mind racing with so many questions they felt like ants crawling around in her head. The ones that kept persisting were: Had he seen too much for his small brain to process? Did they misjudge what he could emotionally handle? Was Lisa somehow behind this? The latter was stuck on rewind until she needed answers.
“I’m sorry but I can’t tell you more.” She finished and walked toward the door. “You have only five more minutes.”
The door closed softly as Keeley sank down into a chair, next to the bed, stunned. A deep moan got her attention. “It’s okay. I’m here.” She cupped his rough jaw. “I love you with all that I am.” Her thumb lightly tracing along his lips, when they parted she could no longer resist. She placed her mouth on his, tenderly kissing the man she loved with all her heart. “You can do this. You can win this battle. I know you can.”
The door opened. “It’s time, ma’am.” He was part of the team but not one she was familiar with. Mitch had insisted she bring him along.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and placed one more quick kiss on Tar’s lips, before rushing out. Her steps became determined as they walked. Seemed Tar needed protection detail at the hospital. Something she could rectify as soon as she reached Mitch. Things happening in there were odd. And she had no doubt, somehow, Lisa was behind it all. Now she had to prove it. She glanced back over her shoulder, before getting in the car, and vowed, “I will stop you.”
*****
His hand reached out for her, but only felt air. She was just here. Her scent still around him. He inhaled deeply to infuse her inside him. The taste of her was on his lips, and he licked them greedily. “Keeley,” he croaked, listening intently. The SEAL gauged his surroundings, searching for danger. She was no longer in the room. Determined to find her, he sat up yanking the needle from his arm. An alarm sounded on the monitor, so he reached up to silence it. Nothing was going to keep him from her. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. Held on to the rail, since he had no desire to fall again, and stood. A little wobbly but nothing he couldn’t handle. Slow, precise steps were taken unti
l he caught his reflection in the mirror over the sink.
He paused, staring in disbelief. His fingers tenderly exploring his head. The discovery a bit shocking. Judging by the tender spots he had a new lump, most likely more stitches. But how? He remembered Lisa, the room, her standing next to the bed. She said something about ‘for the best.’ Then his memory disappeared. His experience out in the field filled in the blank: That was when it happened. But what happened? Maybe Keeley could help with the missing information. His balance was better as he went in search of her.
Christy was cleaning her station and getting everything ready for the morning shift when she spotted him. “Mr. McNeil,” she gasped in horror. “What are you doing out of bed?”
He held her gaze, noting she worked there. “My fiancée was just here. Which way did she go?”
“No,” she shook her head. “You’re confused.”
“I think I know the only woman who holds my heart,” he replied indignantly.
Her forehead crimped while she thought about it. The petite woman who’d been there recently never said who she was, so maybe? But it seemed to her he was referring to the other lady with the little boy. She needed to figure this out. “What does she look like?”
“Short, blonde, big brown eyes, in a word…perfect.”
Her heart fluttered at his word for her. God, what was it like to be loved that much? His adoration was apparent in those beautiful green jewels he had fixed on hers. But neither woman fit his description, other than the short. The woman who’d just been in there was definitely tiny. “I’m sorry. This woman’s hair was raven with shocking blue eyes.”
His head cocked to one side. “No, that’s her twin sister.”
“Then she was the one who just left.”
He sagged against the wall as his body, his senses, told him that was not Lacey. Keeley was the one in his room. She must have changed her physical appearance to look like her sister. Damn, that had to mess with E. Though the height differential would at least help. That was it! “Was she really small?”
