Unexpected Vows

by Paige, Victoria

  “You spoil them.” I shook my head in amusement.

  “And you don’t?” he asked, eyeing the drinks in my hand.

  “Touché,” I replied. For a place like Georgia, it had been an unusual cold day, hitting thirty-five degrees with a wind chill below freezing. The hot chocolate line snaked around other vendors in the popular Buckland County Christmas Fair. It was a special Belgian chocolate blend and the raves heard around the fair were infectious. Colt didn’t want me to wear myself out standing in line. My husband had been treating me like spun glass since I woke up from surgery and it was beginning to grate on my nerves. This time, I didn’t give in to his coddling. It took thirty minutes to get the hot cocoa and I missed the fun of the tree selection, but the bright-eyed stare the kids bestowed on what I had in my hand was worth it.

  They were chocolate fiends.

  The strong aroma of hot cocoa, mixed with the scent of fresh-cut tree sap and pine, imbued our little circle with festive cheer. Colt and I exchanged warm glances. Today was turning into the perfect day.

  Liv reached for the Styro-cup, but I held the drink carrier away. “Ah-ah, not here. Let your dad take care of the tree. Let’s go find a corner and sip this.”

  “But we want to help load the tree,” Olivia said.

  “You can help decorate the tree later,” I said and wondered if the ornaments I’d ordered from John’s store were enough. I’d picked up some handcrafted ones from several vendors at the fair, so maybe we had enough for the nine-foot tree.

  “But, Maaaaa,” Liv whined.

  “Go with your mom,” Colt said firmly. “Your hot chocolate will get colder the longer you whine.”

  Olivia thought about this and nodded her head. “True. That’s a tra-ves-ty.”

  We all laughed.

  An hour later, we headed home. On our way to the ranch, we dropped by the general store to pick up the ornaments. The store was busy, so we didn’t have time to chitchat with John. The kids were wired after getting a jolt from the cocoa and it seemed they wouldn’t be settling down until the tree was up and decorated.

  As our Suburban cleared the gates carrying our precious load on its roof, I glanced back at the kids. “We’re going to have dinner first and then put up the tree. That, okay?”

  Olivia eyed me doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

  “Huh, why?”

  Colt cursed beside me.

  “Dad said a bad word,” Josh said.

  I shot my husband a reproving look, but his eyes were locked on whatever was up ahead. I followed his gaze and saw an identical black Suburban parked in front of the ranch house.

  “Oh, hell no,” I muttered.

  “Mama said a bad word,” Olivia said in singsong.

  “He’s got bad fucking timing,” Colt growled.

  The twins chimed in again about the swear jar, but the swear jar was the least of my worries.

  I hadn’t seen the man since he’d come to Misty Grove to weigh in on the twins’ adoption, but I knew there was only so much time that he’d leave us alone. What happened at the marathon and my part in the whole mess was too high profile not to come with consequences. My heart sank.

  We parked our vehicle beside our unexpected guest’s SUV.

  It was time to face the admiral.

  * * *

  Mac picked up the kids and took them to the bunkhouse. He’d made pot roast for dinner and it wasn’t hard to entice the kids away, although there were worry lines etched on Josh’s forehead. Sarge should soothe him. That K-9 had been a godsend. I pondered the serendipitous sequence of events that had brought the dog into our lives. Though I wasn’t Sarge’s favorite person, he loved the kids and that was all that mattered. His fate wasn’t determined yet as his owner’s trial was delayed to January.

  Colt reassured me I had nothing to worry about regarding my role in the marathon ordeal. Trent and the admiral handled the fallout from the brain spindle affair. Not even Colt’s friend Brody knew the full story. Was it fair to keep the public in the dark regarding the real reason behind these mass shootings? Ideally, not. But there was a technology that needed to be safeguarded against ruthless entities that might seek to exploit it.

  We entered Colt’s study and I walked directly to the window and looked outside for the few seconds it took the men to settle into their positions. Colt perched on his desk; Porter stood at the center of the room.

  “Josh and Olivia look happy,” the admiral said. “You two are doing a great job.”

  “Thanks,” Colt muttered. I didn’t say anything.

  I fidgeted with the edge of my sweater. Colt drummed his fingers on the desk in an annoying rhythm while the admiral said nothing.

  “Why are—” started Colt.

  “Get to—” I began.

  “I’m here to give you an update on Task Force Shadow Track. The feds were told to initiate case closure by the office of the president,” the admiral said.

  “What does that mean?” I asked. “They’ve arrived at a deal with the Russians? How about the victims of all the mass shootings—killings? How can they have closure?”

  Colt didn’t look happy either. “We need to clear the names of the men who were manipulated by Zorin to commit these murders. Five of them were military veterans. They served this country with honor and they’ve sacrificed much. They deserve justice, too.”

  “We’re working on it,” Porter said. “Pavel Repin is going to take the fall for financing Zorin. Besides his vendetta against Hamid Shah, he was planning to sell the technology to the highest bidder so it’s a fitting resolution. The Kremlin has seized his assets and has agreed to set aside a fund to compensate the victims. Some of the seized assets will be used to create a shell company with all the necessary papers proving it was a research lab testing a smart virus.”

  “A fake virus?”

  “Exactly,” Porter said. “We can’t half-ass the cover up. The press is going to investigate, and so are the people who will be interested in stealing it and selling it to the highest bidder on the Dark Web.”

  “How exactly is this going to play out?” I asked.

  “We have connections with Stanford University and the CDC who will corroborate our story that these people had been selectively infected. It is not a contagion, but needs to be injected. There is no risk of an epidemic. Our feds would trace its origin to a lab in Russia—”

  “Your shell company,” Colt verified.

  “Yes.” Porter frowned at the interruption. “As I was saying, the feds would trace it back to Russia and together with Kremlin authorities, shut it down.”

  “Wow, that’s an intricate cover-up,” I said.

  “Better than exposing the brain spindle technology to the public.”

  “People will still panic,” my husband pointed out.

  Porter nodded. “They will. Same when there was an anthrax scare, but the public has a short memory. It might be the headline for a week or two, but once the next big news story takes over, this will be a distant memory.”

  I cleared my throat. “And the agency is satisfied that I won’t be a threat to the public again?”

  The admiral’s smile was enigmatic. “We’re satisfied with the report from the surgeon who operated on you. No trace of toxicity and you haven’t pinged for the spindle. He removed every last bit of it.”

  “Okay.” I let out a long breath, but I had a bigger concern. “And Olivia’s?”

  “Hers is more organic. Our expert examined her the day after your surgery.” The admiral looked briefly at Colt before returning his gaze to me. “Colt and Romanov agreed to it.”

  “I know, he told me.” I chewed on my lower lip. “But he also said there was no plan to extract it and you wouldn’t say why?” I glanced at Colt. “Have you heard otherwise since then?”

  He shook his head.

  “Olivia was too young for the spindle implant to begin with.” Porter paused as if contemplating whether he wanted to elaborate.

&
nbsp; My husband sighed. “Out with it, Ben. I’ve known you a long time; I know when you’re withholding intel.”

  “Her spindle was hardly registering in the scan,” the admiral continued. “My scientist believes at the rate she’s growing, her bones will absorb the spindle in about six months. Romanov said Olivia wasn’t pinging anyway. She’d rendered the device inert, but she learned its frequency. That was how she could tell when someone who had one was nearby.”

  Goose bumps raised on my skin. My mind tried to wrap around the power contained in my little girl. I glanced at Colt and he was staring at me. We had the same concern in mind, but my husband tipped his chin at me, giving me the go-ahead to talk.

  “What is the interest of the CIA in our children?”

  “We aim only to give them a normal life, Kate,” Porter said quietly, if not a tad gently. Hell, I’d say there was warmth in his tone. Even Colt was staring at him like he’d grown two heads.

  I swallowed again. “And if we needed help? If we think she needs guidance from experts?”

  “Let me put it this way,” Porter said. “The CIA owes you and your children its support. It was the agency’s lack of oversight that led to the problems propagated by your handler. We’re merely cleaning up our own mess. You can schedule regular check-ups with the NEST if you need guidance for the twins. The facility is at your disposal.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. At the beginning of this meeting, I thought I was in trouble, but, as it turned out, this was Porter’s way of making amends for what was done to me and the twins.

  Colt walked over to my side and linked our hands, then he tugged me close. “You okay with that, babe?”

  “Hell yes,” I said. But there was one more thing I needed to know. “What about the last remnants of Chrysalis?”

  “Romanov’s intel checked out and the agency will be shutting it down.”

  I frowned. “You’re sure?”

  “I give you my word, Kate,” Porter said and his tone couldn’t be more sincere and determined.

  I was fine with that. “Is there anything else you want to discuss, Admiral?”

  “That’s all I have.”

  “Then may I invite you to stay and have dinner with us?” I asked, extending an olive branch to the man who represented the agency I had loathed.

  Porter grinned. “I would love to.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t only the twins’ first time decorating a Christmas tree, it was mine as well. I was afraid I’d let my excitement overshadow theirs, but I needn’t have worried. If there was something I learned about being a mother, the happiness of my children came first.

  During the first few weeks the twins had lived with us, they had grown fond of The Chronicles of Narnia books. John had given them a first edition C.S. Lewis collection and they had devoured each volume almost obsessively.

  At the Christmas fair, we found a set of handcrafted Narnia ornaments and it was a no-brainer to buy them. Josh did the honor of hanging most of the pieces, but he let Olivia hang Aslan. And for the crowning piece, Colt helped her up the ladder to put an angel on the tree top.

  Josh was at the bottom of the ladder, looking up. “Great job, Liv.”

  “It’s twisted,” Olivia squawked.

  “No, it’s not,” Colt said. “It just looks like it from your angle.” He glanced back at me. “Right, Mom?”

  “Right.” My voice pushed through the boulder in my throat. Watching their tableau around the tree tightened my heart to the point of pain.

  My family.

  “Let’s plug it in!” Josh yelled.

  I flipped the switch and the whole living room glowed with soft-white light. The ornaments of silver balls and crystal snowflakes cast a clean backdrop to our ornaments of the characters from Narnia.

  “The angel looks like you, Mama,” Olivia breathed.

  Colt’s arm came around me and pulled me close.

  We stood back and enjoyed our festive endeavor.

  A perfect day.

  Sounds of footstep echoed on the porch. My husband stiffened; I was suddenly apprehensive.

  “Who could it be?” I asked innocently.

  The door opened and Mac walked in.

  “Mac, anything wrong?” Colt asked with a frown on his face.

  His ranch manager looked at me, a sly grin on his face. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “Um, the kids are having a sleepover at the bunkhouse.” Heat crept up to the roots of my hair.

  “Yeah, we’re getting sleepy,” Josh yawned unconvincingly. They were already in their pajamas and all set to go.

  “I miss sleepovers at the bunkhouse,” Olivia piped in as she scrambled to don her sneakers.

  The twins grabbed their coats and scampered toward Mac like their butts were on fire.

  Colt’s stare scorched my already overheated face, but I tried my best to keep my attention on the kids.

  “Hey, don’t I get a kiss good night?” I chided.

  Olivia rolled her eyes and hurried back to me to give me one, then moved to her dad to do the same. Josh did it more slowly, but he couldn’t control the grin on his face.

  Then they were gone. Their chatter filtering away from the house.

  The house that suddenly became so quiet.

  The house where the air had suddenly turned electric.

  Finally, I turned to look at my husband. His heated gaze had never left me once Mac showed up.

  “You’re not ready,” he said.

  “I’m not?”

  “You had brain surgery.”

  “It was half an inch incision at the base of my skull and he used a laparoscopic tool,” I said. “Most of my recovery was from the toxin damage and with all the healthy shakes you’ve been shoving down my throat, I’m more than a hundred percent.” I blew out a breath after my ramble. I didn’t want to add that my brain neurons finally connected back to my ovaries. These past few days were frustrating getting Colt past chaste kisses. I missed my cowboy and the rugged sex that came with him.

  My panties were screaming to be ripped off.

  His breathing became shallow, his frame rigid, but he couldn’t hide the strain of his arousal. His eyes took in the rise and fall of my chest, moving lower to where my leggings hugged my hips, and zeroing in on the juncture between my legs.

  He rolled his lower lip between his teeth, before his eyes wandered back to mine, arresting me with the hunger in their depths.

  Colt advanced a step.

  I took a step back, holding up my hand. “I’m sorry,” I rushed out.

  Confusion flitted through his gaze. “What?”

  “Hurting you.” I glanced at his head. “We never talked about Kate 2.0.”

  He stilled, jaw hardening. “I’d rather not because that’s behind us.”

  Wasn’t he even a bit pissed?

  “I nearly killed you on our wedding night,” I muttered.

  “She.” He reached for me and dragged me against him. “That wasn’t you. Just as the other people who’d committed those crimes weren’t responsible.”

  “But …”

  A palm cupped the back of my head holding me close, so his chin was by my temple. “That. Wasn’t. You. Got me?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone about what was going on in my head because I was afraid they’d think I was crazy. I should have known something was wrong when Olivia could sense my problem, but I thought I was merely projecting my thoughts to her. I didn’t realize I was having hallucinations. In my silence, I nearly committed a massacre.”

  “If that was happening to me, I’d be afraid to admit it, too.”

  “Really?” I clung to his statement, hoping to absolve my guilt of hurting the man who meant everything to me.

  He nodded. “Really.” He paused. “So, what brought this on?”

  I shrugged “We never talked about it. It’s been sixteen days.”

  Colt lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch. “Sixteen days, eight hours, ten minutes and t
wenty-five seconds since the sun rose over my world again.”

  Oh, God. This man. How was it possible that I could love him more each day, yet I’d given him nothing but a concussion.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I realized my lips were clamped in a straight line and my brows had drawn together.

  “Nothing, I just … ” I broke off, but then decided to be honest. “I just don’t know how you put up with me.”

  A corner of his mouth hitched up. “With a lot of patience.”

  I looked at him from beneath my lashes. “Don’t give up on me, okay?”

  I’d been strong and independent, but to really love this man the way he deserved, I had to bare my fears and entrust him with my vulnerabilities.

  “You slay me, Goldilocks,” he murmured, taking my hands and kissing my knuckles. “How could I give up on you when I was born to love you?”

  He was going to make me cry.

  Yup.

  Hot tears brimmed the corners of my eyes and his own panicked.

  “Dammit, Kate, don’t cry,” he said roughly. “I can’t bear to see you cry. In the ambulance …” He broke off and raw emotions ravaged his face. “You wouldn’t stop crying and not knowing why almost made me lose my goddamned mind.”

  I was unprepared to relive those agonizing moments. A tremor shook me as a chill skittered up my spine because at that time my regret cut deep. I was dying and …

  “I lost the chance to tell you …” I whispered. My heart convulsed at the memory. “I lost the chance to tell you that I love you.” My voice cracked. “One last time.”

  Colt reeled back from me, gaping at me with shocked devastation, then his jaw clenched in determination and dragged me back into a tight embrace “Dammit, woman.” He inhaled raggedly, the sawing of his lungs whooshed at the same time his heart thudded in my ears.

  “I love you. I fucking love you,” he growled fiercely beside my ear. “There’s no last time. We’ll say it every day for the rest of our lives.”

  Emotional upheaval morphed into pure carnal need. Colt tore my clothes away and I nearly ripped his shirt off in my own haste. He unbuckled his belt, lowered his zipper, and lifted me. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his hips, my naked breasts smashed against the hard muscles of his chest. The smooth head of his cock teased my slick pussy. And as he fell back to the leather couch, taking me with him, he impaled me in our downward momentum.