“You’re right.” She smiled a little, holding his warm gaze. Ram was more than likeable when he was like this. “You’re my set of objective eyes. Don’t ever be afraid to take me aside and share what you see, please? It helps me recalibrate myself and get back into balance.”
Ram gave her an intense, burning look. “I’m here for you, Ali. That’s the way it is. I know you don’t like me protecting you, but it’s who I am. I can’t help it if I want to shield you from being hurt.”
“I know. I’m getting over my attitude about it. And I appreciate you caring enough to do it for me, despite my previous gripes about it. But do come to me if you want to talk? I’m the first to admit that I’m a hot mess right now.”
“I have your back, princesa.”
The endearment in Spanish touched her as nothing else ever could. Ali stood there, and her heart thudded to underscore what his roughly whispered endearment did to her. Completely caught off guard, she felt Ram invisibly reach out, grazing her cheek with his strong fingers. He’d stood casually at the bottom of the steps, at ease, but she felt a palpable, throbbing coming from him. Ali could feel it clear to her toes and back. She swallowed hard. “Is that how you see me? As a princess?”
His smile was tentative. “I guess in my mind I’ve always called you that.”
“Since when?”
“Since meeting you when you first came into our SEAL team.”
Eyes widening, she stood there digesting his explanation. Ram wasn’t one to lie. He never had before. Ali knew this was an endearment. It wasn’t a military nickname he’d given her. And the way he’d said it, those velvety words entering her heart, felt so good, so right.
She heard her father and mother through the door, speaking in Spanish, and realized it was time to go in and help her mother get breakfast. Lamenting the bad timing, Ali saw Ram watching her, his expression one of curiosity—and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. At least, not right now.
“Would you like me to call you that?” he asked as she opened the door. “Or does it bother you, Ali?”
Turning, she looked down at Ram. “I never knew you thought of me that way in the first place. I know it’s a loving term, and I’m a bit confused by it . . . and by you.”
Shrugging, he said, “You wanted to know the rest of me, right? Well, this is who I am, Ali.” He grinned, and his teasing made her feel a tad better.
“I like who I’m with now, Ram. But that’s a term for lovers and we aren’t lovers.” Again, she saw a glint in his eyes, unable to translate it. She also noticed a new gentleness radiating from Ram. What was going on here?
Ali didn’t have time to analyze this conversation because her father called them to the breakfast table.
“Coming, Papa,” she called over her shoulder, opening the door to the kitchen. They’d already had breakfast, but they would sit and chat with the rest of the family as they ate their meal.
*
Ali felt ill after reading Wyatt Lockwood’s copy of the DEA debrief from her sister, Cara. After she joined her parents while they ate their breakfast, she’d gone to her room to check her emails, and there it was. She’d felt an icy fist in her stomach as she absorbed its contents. Her first thought was: did Ram read this yet? The copy was addressed to both of them.
It was almost noon, and she felt claustrophobic in her quiet bedroom. She wasn’t used to being so confined indoors. Even in her hiding spot in Sonora, she’d had room to move. She couldn’t watch the fortress twenty-four hours a day, so she’d gone down the tree, hiked around, looked for other entry spots into the fortress. She was an athletic, outdoorsy person, not a stay-at-home type, like Cara.
Shutting off her computer, she knew she wanted to talk to Ram before doing anything else. Cara had already told everyone she wanted to stay in her room and knit. Knitting was calming for her and Ali was glad her sister had found something to help soothe her ragged emotions. She had refused anti-depressants, anti-anxiety medication, and sleep aids. While Ali agreed in principle, she thought some meds might be helpful in the short term. She felt it might have relieved some of her sister’s constant agony and suffering.
She had pulled her hair into a ponytail and changed into a pair of white shorts, flip-flops, and a pale-green tube top. A swamp cooler, a pre-air-conditioning device to keep houses in the Southwest from feeling like frying pans in the summer, cooled the house. She left her room and looked down the hall for Ram. What was he doing? Where was he?
Cara had told everyone that if her door was open, it meant she would receive visitors. If it wasn’t, she asked to be left alone. The door was closed. Ram’s door, however, was open and Ali peeked in. He wasn’t there.
She went out to the garage, just on a hunch. Sure enough, there he was, oiling and greasing the bikes, his fingers coated with the fluid.
“Hey,” she called softly from the door, “could you use some company?” She saw amusement in his eyes as he picked up a nearby rag and wiped off his fingers.
“Bored?” he teased.
She shook her head. “No,” she said, coming quickly down the stairs after shutting the door. She walked over to stand beside Ram and the bike he was working on. “I just got done reading the debrief on Cara,” she admitted, her voice strained. Instantly, Ram sobered and looked up.
“Are you okay, Ali? It was tough to read, even for me.”
His caring words were as unexpected as they were welcome, and she felt warmth pouring through her. Ali swore it was like a living cascade of comfort entering and surrounding her. The knot in her stomach eased.
“Actually, I’m not feeling very good, if you want the truth.” She saw his eyes soften, and knew that her well-being was a priority for him. In that moment, all she wanted was to walk into his arms and be held.
“How can I help you?” Ram asked tenderly.
She nearly burst into tears, just hearing the tone of his voice over his gently asked question. She whispered, “I just wish . . . ”
“What?” Ram asked, turning away from the bike and giving her his full attention.
“Cara had a boyfriend, Colin Stein,” she explained, “and she thought she was in love with the guy. I only met him once. I wasn’t impressed, but Cara liked him.” Pushing tendrils off her cheek, she continued, “He dumped her after she got kidnapped, Ram. I’m so damned angry about what he did I could spit nails.”
She watched him set the bike up on the hooks and take the second one down, turning it upside down to work on the chain and the hubs of the wheels.
“Bastard,” he muttered.
Her eyes flashed with anger. “Now, when she needs it most, she has no one to hold her as she goes through this, Ram.” Her voice broke. “No one . . . ”
He stopped working and came around the bike, settling his hands lightly on her slumping shoulders. “She’s luckier than most, Ali. She has a loving family supporting her. So many people don’t have that luxury. They have to battle a situation alone.” He looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then shifted his gaze to hers. “Stein showed his true self, that’s all. Better that Cara knows it now than to marry the coward later.”
“I guess you’re right.” She searched his face, drowning in the warmth he was sending her. It felt so good, so steadying, nourishing her in ways she so desperately needed right now. “I know we haven’t talked about this, but what do you think of Mama and Papa knowing about the debrief? Do you think it would hurt or help Cara?”
He lifted his hands from her shoulders. “I’ve thought about that, too. In the long run, even though it will upset them now, they’ll be prepared to help her over the long term by knowing exactly what she survived. They won’t have to guess about it because she’s not telling them, or lie awake at night imagining all kinds of other gruesome scenarios.”
She chewed on her lower lip, moving away from him. Ali knew that if she didn’t, she was going to ask him to hold her, just for a moment or two. She walked a few feet away, trying to hold onto her
eroding composure. “I’m torn, Ram. My folks are already destroyed by this. So is Cara.”
“So are you,” he said in a low voice, watching her.
Tears burned in her eyes and Ali struggled to get herself under control. She turned away, her head dipping.
Always tuned in to her, Ram suddenly realized the intensity of her emotional state. Quickly, he wiped off his fingers on a nearby cloth, and moved those few feet to where Ali stood with her back toward him. She was hunched over, shoulders down, telling him she was battling a hell of an emotional reaction right now. Who wouldn’t be?
He knew approaching Ali from behind wasn’t a smart idea. After all, she was an operator. If he put his hands on her shoulders from behind, she’d probably fly into action, muscle memory taking over, thinking she was under attack. Halting, Ram decided to move in a larger circle around her so she could catch sight of him in her peripheral vision.
Ali had her hands pressed against her face and he could hear her taking deep, jerky breaths, trying to remain in control. He saw the glimmer of tears begin to leak through her fingers even though he didn’t want to see her crying. Unsure, he stood there for a moment, wanting to comfort her, but afraid she’d reject him if he tried to hold her.
What the hell! He couldn’t behave like an emotional coward a minute longer . . .
CHAPTER 4
Mid-October
Tucson, AZ
Ali was so lost in her morass of emotions that she froze for a moment when Ram enclosed her in his embrace. She had hidden her face between her hands, struggling so hard not to sob aloud that she hadn’t heard Ram approaching her.
His arms gently wrapped around her shoulders, almost hesitantly, as if silently asking her if she would accept his comfort or not. She was so caught up in her own need of him, of what he was offering, that she automatically stepped deep into his embrace. As she pressed her wet cheek against his t-shirt, she swore she heard him groan, but she couldn’t really tell if it was him or her.
Ram’s arms tightened around her, drawing her fully against him and she felt his protective, healing energy soothing the storm within her. This wasn’t sexual, nor was it a come-on, and she knew it. No, Ram was being sensitive and sympathetic, trying to help her. And that’s when the first sob ripped out of her.
The sound was foreign to her, like that of an animal crying out in sheer anguish. As his hand cupped the back of her head, gently holding her as her entire body shook with her weeping, Ali surrendered fully to Ram.
The debriefing memo had been like a can opener ripping her open, and every detail of Cara’s kidnapping butchered her heart. She huddled in Ram’s arms, absorbing his hand as it glided gently up and down her back, as if to try and take away some of her anguish. She felt his moist breath near her temple, his breathing slow and easy compared to her own. He was like a mountain surrounding her, and it made her feel safe in a way she’d never felt before. Ram’s tenderness and thoughtfulness toward her exploded all her previous theories about him as a man, but she was weeping so hard, she couldn’t sort anything out right now.
Ram held her as if she were a fragile, priceless gift placed in his care. The sensation, the knowing, was so real that slowly, Ali’s sobs lessened, and finally diminished to a point where even her tears stopped flooding from her tightly closed eyes. It was then that she became acutely aware of Ram as a man. Inhaling his scent, it brought her relief from her jagged, roiling emotions. His arms brought her solace, but weren’t crushing her against him. Somewhere in her tumbling mind, she realized he was holding her, but not imprisoning her. Overwhelmed with his sensitivity she’d never experienced before, it brought a fresh round of tears. Only this time, she cried for them because they’d gotten off on the wrong foot with one another all those years ago and never seen the goodness the other had to offer. It saddened her in a way that made her feel guilty and she questioned why she’d projected on Ram like that. There was no blame, just an awareness that now, she had been lucky enough to meet the other side of him. While not having many social skills, Ram had a pure, unselfish heart—and she was getting to experience it firsthand.
Staggered by all the sensations, the awareness of Ram as a man who was being kind to her, of her heart clamoring to remain in the safe harbor of his arms, his body huge and protective against hers, Ali stood there in the gathering silence, sponging in what he was unselfishly sharing with her. He was supporting her emotionally in a way that she’d so desperately needed. Most of all, the light skimming of his hand across her shoulders and down her back soothed her immensely, so many of her sharp, jagged emotions calming beneath his ministrations.
She could hear the slow thud of his heart beneath her ear, the fabric of his t-shirt, completely soaked with her tears. If he minded, he said nothing about it. Closing her eyes, Ali couldn’t sort all the impressions, the new, awakening feelings in her own heart toward Ram, right now. His hand settled on the center of her back and she felt him give her a bit of a hug and then he released her, although he kept his hands on her upper arms to steady her, just in case.
Looking up through her tear-beaded lashes, Ali saw a new tenderness burning in his eyes. Even his mouth, usually tight in a hard line, was relaxed. “T-thank you . . . ” she whispered, her throat still scratchy from crying so much. She suddenly felt fresh tears flow from her eyes again. She opened her hand that rested against his powerful chest. “I-I didn’t know you’d do something like this . . . I didn’t . . . ” She saw him look above her head, the corners of his mouth drawing in for a moment before he lowered his gaze and met hers again.
“A long time ago, when I was a young boy, I had a woman who wasn’t my mother hold me after I’d got beaten up by four boys in grade school. I’d never cried in front of anyone until that time, Ali. I had gone to Mazzie because she was teaching me how to read and write English. She saw my black eye and my dirty, bloodied shirt, and opened her arms to me. I was hurting so much that I just walked into them, and she held me. I never cried as hard or as long as I did then.”
His mouth moved, as if to hold back a lot of surfacing emotions. When he continued, his voice was low and thick. “I felt as if you were at that point with Cara, with all the loads you’re carrying on your shoulders for your entire family. They all look to you for help, for guidance, and suggestions on how to deal with your sister. It’s a lot for anyone to carry.”
He gave her a slight smile. “I guess I just wanted to let you know that you can lean on me. I have a pretty broad set of shoulders and I can help carry others’ loads, too. I’m not the ogre you thought I was.”
Wincing at the hurt in his deep tone, she stood inches apart from him, not wanting him to release her arms, not wanting to leave the heat rolling off his massive body, or the sense of shelter that still surrounded her, making her feel steadier, more clear-headed. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t see this in you before, Ram. I really am. That was exactly what I needed.” She pulled her arm from his hand and reached up, placing her palm over the wet fabric on his shirt where she’d cried. “I’ve made a mess of your t-shirt, I’m afraid,” she added lamely, giving him an apologetic look.
“Don’t worry about it, Ali. It will dry.”
She had so many questions about what he’d just shared with her. She knew nothing of his background. Ali wanted to pursue it but knew it wasn’t a good time. It was all she could do to put herself back together right now. “Thank you for being here for me, Ram.”
“No one should cry alone, Ali. Not ever.”
She saw a deep flash of pain in his eyes, but then it was gone. Wiping her mouth free of the last of the tears, she let Ram release her and forced herself to move away from him, sitting down on a nearby stool. His concerned gaze followed her. “You’re right, no one should cry alone.” She gave a sad look at the door that led into the house.
“Cara has no one like you in her life, ever since Colin abandoned her.” She swallowed, touching her brow and then sending him a warm look. “But you were here for me. I conside
r that a gift.”
“That’s what friends are for in my world, Ali. I know I wasn’t much of a friend to anyone on our team.”
“You had your reasons.”
“The last three years have changed me, I hope, for the better,” he said, taking another stool and placing it opposite her, about three feet between them.
Tilting her head, she whispered, “Ram, I have so many questions for you. You just aren’t the guy I knew on the team.”
“There were other parts of my personality running me at the time, Ali.”
“Well,” she said, giving him a slight, trembling smile, “I sure like this side of you, instead.”
He looked away. “I wasn’t sure I should try and hold you at all, Ali. I was expecting you to push me away, get angry, and tell me to never touch you again.” He lifted his chin, assessing her reaction to his gruffly spoken words. “We haven’t exactly done this before, so I couldn’t assume it was what you wanted. But I wanted to try to help you . . . ”
Sitting up, her eyes widened. “I wouldn’t push you away, Ram. I know what comforting another human being feels like. Your embrace and your approach to me was about that, nothing else. I can tell the difference between sex, flirtation, and a man showing human compassion.”
A corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Yeah, and I was glad you could because all I wanted to do was make you feel better, knowing I was there for you when you really needed it.” He gestured toward the door to the house. “You have three people leaning heavily on you, Ali, and I didn’t want you to do that alone.”
“I believe it, Ram, I really do.” She wiped her eyes dry with her fingers. “And I feel better now. Thank you for picking up on what I needed. I hadn’t expected it . . . ”
She saw hurt enter his eyes, which was the last thing she wanted. Hastily, she added, “Look, this is my fault, not yours, Ram. I was knee-jerking from the past. God, what a pattern we set up with one another. I’m trying to break it and I know you are too. Sometimes,” and she pushed dark tendrils that had stuck to her cheek, behind her ear, “I fall into old patterns with you. I don’t mean to. I try to stay on top of it.” She sighed. “And I don’t always succeed. You get hit by me again, but you’re not striking back like you used to when I did it. That’s what is so different.”
Taking A Chance_Delos Series_Book 7B1 Page 4
