Taking A Chance_Delos Series_Book 7B1

by Lindsay McKenna

  There were no family pictures, which left Ali feeling bad for Ram. Her parents’ place had walls of photos of her and Cara growing up, and then, their later years as they all celebrated important events in their lives.

  “I can see why you said this place was decorated differently than my parents’ home.”

  Ram took off his coat and opened up a sliding closet door. He took hers as well and hung them beside each other. “I’m no good at house stuff, that’s for sure,” he admitted.

  “Still,” Ali said, turning, looking at the huge kitchen with a gas stove, a big, granite island, and steel stools around it, “I like the sunlight coming through here. It really makes this place feel airy and light.”

  “It’s where I’ve landed between missions,” he said, opening the fridge. “Would you like some coffee? Tea?”

  “Coffee sounds great,” she said.

  “Take a seat on one of those stools, and I’ll make us a pot while we catch up with one another.”

  “Where’s Mazzie?” she asked, looking around.

  “She’s at a nearby doggie day care center. I don’t want to put her in a crate to not be able to get exercise. There’s a gal, Susan, who will be bringing Mazzie home at six p.m. tonight. It’s only a block from where I live. That way, Mazzie gets to go outdoors, play with other dogs and get lots of love from the people who work there.”

  Still uncomfortable about the lack of human warmth in this apartment, Ali sat down at the island. The stools, in her opinion, needed nice, soft, colorful cushions. She watched Ram work at the counter, his broad back to her. Down one hall, she spotted what was probably a bedroom.

  “I warned you this place wasn’t like yours,” he said, setting a colorful, yellow mug in front of her.

  “I don’t think many guys know how to make a house a home,” she said.

  “You know, I felt strange coming back here after being with all of you out in Tucson. I realized the vast differences between your home and my place. Like night and day,” he said, gazing around and scowling.

  “Which did you like better?”

  “Are you kidding? Your parents’ home. It was lived in, it was alive, and it breathed happiness and peace.”

  “What do you do around here at night?” Ali wondered, looking around. The place was spotless, everything cleaned, dusted, and picked up, unlike her folks’ home, or even her own bedroom. She wasn’t messy, but her room had a lived-in look, while this place felt sterile. It reminded Ali of an operating room in a hospital: look, but don’t touch.

  “Usually I’m in my office.” He pointed down the hall, “working with Wyatt’s mission planning software for an upcoming op.”

  “Do you ever watch TV or movies?”

  He grinned a little. “Not usually.”

  “Judging from the amount of work and number of missions that Wyatt showed me on that mission board, you’re all way too busy.”

  “Delos has eighteen-hundred charities located around the world. There is KNR, kidnapping-and-ransom, attacks on one or more of those sites, theft of property and food, and a hundred other things that could go wrong at any one of them. And when it’s reported to Delos HQ here in Alexandria, we’re tasked with finding and fixing the problem, catching the bad guys, rescuing the woman or children who were kidnapped, etcetera.”

  “Matt Culver seems to be over his head in work.”

  “Yes, but he loves it that way. The guy hates standing still for more than thirty seconds. He’s more than up to the task. So many countries now use KNR as a way to get money. It’s a dangerous fad that’s gathering steam globally. Tal was saying the other day when we were in a planning meeting that they were going to be hiring the bulk of new employees over the next six months for Matt’s division. KNR cases are exploding, Ali.”

  He turned, seeing the coffee was ready. He picked up her mug, and walked over to fill it. “I wouldn’t want to work in Matt’s department. I prefer the planning of ops at a slower pace. That’s what I’m good at.”

  “Yeah,” Ali said, pulling the mug to her, “KNR isn’t where I’m suited either.”

  “Wyatt knew that. But he oversees all missions, regardless of whose division it comes from.”

  “Does the guy ever sleep?” she grinned.

  Ram sat down opposite her at the island, a bright-orange, ceramic mug filled with steaming coffee. “He and Tal are married, but I can’t imagine their life together with all the demands of Artemis 24/7.”

  “I saw the way they looked at one another at the tavern, and they’re very much in love,” Ali said wistfully. “That’s the glue that holds them and this company of theirs together.”

  Ram became pensive and slowly moved the mug of coffee around in his hands. “Which,” he murmured, lifting his head and holding her gaze, “brings things back to us.”

  The silence lengthened.

  “Ali, I was going to save what I want to say until after dinner tonight, or maybe not say anything at all, depending upon how tired you are.”

  She could feel a subtle tension moving through him, saw his skin tighten over his high cheekbones. “What were you going to say? I’m fine, I’m not tired, Ram. You know I like talking and sharing with you. It gives me energy. It doesn’t take it away from me. And I hope it does the same for you.”

  She hoped her sincerity would help ease that uncomfortable feeling he was radiating. There was more than just tension with it. She could feel saw-like teeth ripping into him. It was a sensing, a knowing she had.

  In her experience, any time something was important to Ram, the corners of his mouth tucked inward. She understood this reaction was that of a person trying to prepare himself for a coming blow. Yet, she hadn’t said or done anything to trigger that kind of behavior. What was he afraid would happen?

  “Whatever it is, Ram, it’s okay. I’ll sit and listen. I truly care about you and I don’t like seeing you tied up the way you are right now. Did something happen to you that you didn’t tell me about?”

  Ali wasn’t going to dodge whatever it was. For the longest time, she’d felt as if Ram was sitting on a lot of toxic secrets from his past. She sensed that he was afraid to share them with her, but she didn’t know why.

  “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for the last month. I didn’t have the balls to do it at your house. I figured after you got here, I’d spill it.” He looked at her, waiting for her reaction.

  “This is important to you, Ram. I’m here for you like you were there for me after I read Cara’s debrief report. Let me help you if I can,” she offered, tilting her head and giving him a tender look.

  “The reason I’m telling you this now, Ali, is that I don’t want to hurt you. I know we’re growing close to one another. It isn’t stopping, it’s getting more intense and if I don’t tell you about my past, I’ll be hiding something you need to know about me. I don’t want you thinking I’m someone I’m not.”

  She frowned. What could this admission possibly be? In that moment, he looked like a scared child about to be hit by an angry parent. “Well,” she struggled, “I like the man who is here with me now. Our pasts shaped us, but they don’t define us, Ram.”

  “Yeah, well that’s what I’m afraid to tell you. I know you look up to me and respect me. I never, ever want to disappoint you. But I live in a special hell, fear, really, because you don’t know certain things about me.”

  “Then tell me, Ram.” She reached across the island, her hand on his arm. “Let me be here for you.”

  “After you know my story, Aliyana, you may well want to walk out of this condo and away from me. Frankly, I wouldn’t blame you. I’m not the hero you think I am.”

  Her mind snapped back to his comment about being a mongrel. What the hell did that mean? Her fingers tightened on his forearm and she felt the harnessed power of his flesh responding, tightening beneath the red sweater he wore.

  “This has to do with your childhood, doesn’t it?” She released him and straightened, seeing surprise come t
o his expression.

  “Yes, it does.”

  There was wariness in his tone, something she’d never heard before. “There are things you’ve dropped hints about in the past to me, Ram.” She opened her hands. “I’m going to share with you what I think and then you tell me if I’m wrong or not, OK? I’m a sniper, and one of my traits is being able to put tiny pieces of a puzzle together so I can see a larger pattern than most people.”

  “Yes, that’s true of snipers,” he agreed.

  “Do you want to go first? Or do you want me to tell you what I think I see?” She didn’t want to take away from this moment because he’d brought up the subject, and she didn’t want to stop him from divulging whatever it was that bothered him so much.

  “Right now, I’m feeling pretty cowardly and I wonder what you see. Share it with me first, okay? Then I can fill in the rest, maybe.”

  “You’ve never been a coward, Ram. Don’t use that word to describe yourself. You’re one of the most heroic people I’ve ever met, okay?” She couldn’t keep the emotion out of her tone, almost growling at him.

  “There’s all kinds of cowardice, Ali, but go ahead. What have you put together?”

  “That your mother and father weren’t available to you. That Mazzie and the three other women you mentioned were surrogate mothers to you as a child. Joshua was a father figure who stepped in and gave you what you never received from your real father. The sense I get is that your parents abandoned you very early in your life, and fortunately, these special people picked up that responsibility, loved you, and shepherded you through your early years. You said you lived in a hotel, but what child lives in a hotel? I can’t put that together or understand it.” Her voice lowered as she saw his eyes grow cloudy with pain and recognition that she had so accurately pieced together his childhood.

  “You’re really good,” he said thickly, “and I guess I knew that deep inside, Ali. I was born out-of-wedlock, my father owned a broken-down hotel in Nogales, Mexico. He was a pimp. He had thirty women working for him as prostitutes. My mother—an American—was one of them, and she became pregnant with me. She went across the border to birth me in the US hospital in Nogales, Arizona, so I could automatically be an American citizen. Later I found out she wanted to make sure I had dual citizenship as an American and Mexican. According to Mazzie, who was her best friend, she wanted nothing to do with me after I was born, so Mazzie took care of me from then on. There were three other prostitutes that helped her: Pilar from Guatemala, Sophie from El Salvador, and Renata from Honduras. My father wanted nothing to do with me, either. He always referred to me as a ‘mongrel dog,’ and would kick at me if he saw me anywhere near him.”

  Ali said nothing, feeling her heart drowning in pain for Ram. It was so hard for him to speak of this because he appeared to be tearing each word out of his body, each confession more painful than the previous one. “I can’t even begin to imagine how that impacted you, Ram,” she said softly, sharing his anguish.

  “I did get care and love, Ali. Just not from my dysfunctional parents. When a jealous john murdered Mazzie shortly after my ninth birthday, my world became a lot harder. Pilar, Renata, and Sophie tried their best to take over, but my father was brutal to them. They had to have so many johns a day and earn him so much money. They wanted to take care of me, but it was never that often.”

  “Where did you go, then, Ram?”

  “There was a small room in the back of the hotel, near the kitchen. I lived there. Joshua heard about Mazzie’s death and tried to step in and be there for me like a father. He’d find me hiding in the closet. I slept in it because it was the only place I really felt safe.” His voice thickened, “It was also where I could cry and no one would hear me . . . ”

  Wincing, Ali reached over, squeezing his forearm. “This is so much worse than I could have imagined, Ram. I’m so sorry . . . ”

  Shrugging, he pushed on. “The only reason I’m telling you this, Ali is because what I have with you is good, clean, and wonderful. That’s what you give me. But you never knew the real me. You never knew why I would never discuss my parents or past with you or anyone else.”

  She released his arm. “I noticed on your fireplace mantle that there were no family photos there. I guess I should have put that together.”

  “No,” Ram muttered, shaking his head. “You’ve got a lot on your plate right now, Ali. Don’t fault yourself for missing that clue.”

  She sat there, staring at him. “How did you ever make it to eighteen, when you could leave that snake pit?”

  “With the help of the people I just told you about. They saved me in a lot of ways, Ali. I carry a little of each of them in me to this day. They were kind, wonderful people and I believe their care saved my soul and stopped me from becoming like the uncaring, insensitive people my parents were.”

  “It explains to me why you were so guarded with all of us when I came to the SEAL team, Ram.” She softened her tone, wanting to sound conciliatory. “I couldn’t figure out why you couldn’t share anything emotional or family oriented with any of us. Now, I see why. When a baby is abandoned by his mother, he or she knows it. Just as sure as breathing air, you felt your mother’s abandonment.”

  “I have no memory of her, Ali. My first memories were spotty from four years old, onward. Mazzie and the other women were always coming in and out of my life. I didn’t even know who my mother was until after Mazzie was murdered. Joshua told me.”

  “You went through a horrible, emotional meat grinder. I’ve always seen you as a survivor, Ram. Now, knowing the rest of your story, I understand why you have such inner strength, resolve, and endurance. From your earliest times, you had to struggle to survive. Some part of your brain, heart, and soul knew you were in for a hard, hard life. Dios, Ram, my heart bleeds for you.” She choked up, wiping her eyes with unsteady fingers.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me, Ali. I didn’t tell you this to make you cry, dammit.” His hands moved into fists as if stop a barrage of emotion erupting from within him. He forced them to relax. “I told you because I didn’t want you blindsided by my past. If you like me, if you want to have whatever the hell we have to continue, you need to know the truth about me. I’m a nobody. I was born into the world unwanted. No one cared except the people I told you about. They gave me a chance and I ran with it.”

  “I-I know,” Ali whispered. “That just makes you that much more special to me, Ram.” Ali slid off the stool and came around, seeing the surprise in his face. Lifting her arms, she said, “Come here. I want to hold you. All I want to do is to hold you, Ram.”

  He made an inarticulate sound, turned toward her, opened his arms, and she walked into them, slid her hands around his broad shoulders, and pressed herself fully against him, her brow rested against the hard line of his jaw.

  “You’re so courageous—so unselfish, Ram,” she whispered, closing her eyes, feeling his arms wrap around her slender body, pressing her tightly to him. “You’re more than a survivor. Opening yourself up to me only makes me want you more, not less, Ram. Your story doesn’t scare me off. It only makes me respect you more than I did before.” Her arms tightened around him and she felt the tension begin to bleed out of him.

  She heard Ram groan her name, his lips pressing against her hair, her temple, caressing her cheek so tenderly with his roughened fingertips that it made her tears fall. “Don’t you ever refer to yourself as a ‘mongrel dog’ again, Ram Torres. I don’t want to hear those words spoken again by you. Do you hear me?”

  A rumble of laughter rolled up through his chest as he slid his fingers through her loose hair, leaning down, his moist breath flowing across her face.

  “I hear you. Now, I want to kiss you, mi princesa . . . ”

  She closed her eyes, filling herself with his scent, his physicality, and his hard, unyielding body against her supple, curved, rounded one.

  “Mi cielo, kiss me . . . ” she whispered as his mouth eased lightly across hers with gentle invita
tion to kiss him in return—and Ali wanted nothing more than to do exactly that.

  CHAPTER 13

  December 12

  Alexandria, VA

  Ram was so hungry for this woman! He wanted to devour Ali’s lips, her softness, and absorb her feminine strength. She pressed herself wantonly against him, eagerly glorying in his mouth on hers, letting him know she wanted much, much more of him.

  Ram was dazed by Ali’s acceptance of his childhood, as if it didn’t matter. How could that be? Then, a small fragment of thought cut through the heat of Ali’s mouth building mutually with his own. The reason he had made a big deal out of it was because the overwhelming message his parents had given him was that he was not wanted. But Ali wanted him, and he wanted her.

  It didn’t matter to her about his childhood except to break her heart as she heard how painful it had been for him. He’d been surprised by her tears, her trembling voice, the anguish in her eyes as he shared the story with her. She now slid her hands down his arms, feeling their hard, warm strength.

  He moved his hands upward, framing her face, feeling her breasts pressed fully against his chest, and there was no question in Ram’s mind or heart what she wanted.

  “Aliyana . . . ” he rasped, his voice off key as he eased away from her wet, full lips. “Wait . . . we need to talk . . . just a little bit?” He saw her thick, black lashes barely rise to reveal the gold in the depths of her light-brown eyes, and he recognized it for what it was: lust and sex. But going to bed with her? It was much, much more than that. “I want you. All of you. In my bed, inside you. I need to hear what you want, mi tesoro, my treasure.”

  Her lips lifted. “I want you, Ram, all of you. Any way I can have you. This has been coming for a long, long time and you know it.”

  His mouth widened into a grin. “That’s true. Even when you were in our SEAL team, I wanted you. I never told you that, though.” He slid his fingers through her black hair, hearing a purring sound in the back of her throat, her eyes closing momentarily as she responded to his stroking.