by Sandra Owens
“What if he’s still alive?” When Jamie didn’t answer, she knew he believed her father was dead. The regret settling heavy in her heart surprised her. She’d thought she had banished any love for the man who had fathered her. A memory, long buried, surfaced. It had been the Christmas before her mother died. His present to his little family had been a trip to Disney World. In Hannah’s gift-wrapped box was a Mickey Mouse hat, and she’d worn it all day, loving the little ears. In her mom’s box was the receipt for their room at a Disney hotel. They would go during Hannah’s spring break. They’d been so happy then, the three of them.
They never went. Only weeks before the family vacation her mother had died, alone in the kitchen. Sugar still had the Mickey Mouse hat, tucked deep in a corner of her closet at her dad’s house. Unless he’d cleaned all her stuff out.
Even with her eyes squeezed shut, she couldn’t stop other images of those happy days from playing though her head like a movie reel. Nights around the dinner table, their shared laughter filling the air. Small Hannah bent over the table after it was cleared of the dishes, her father leaning over her shoulder, helping her with her homework.
Even years later, she could still recall his scent. English Leather had been his favored cologne, and she’d given him a bottle that Christmas, her last gift to him. Her mom had helped her pick it out. Although he’d acted surprised at the time, he’d probably not been surprised at all. He had smiled and told her it was his favorite gift of all. He’d still loved her then. A sob tore through her for Hannah, the little girl who’d lost everything she held dear.
The hand Jamie slid up and down her back in a gentle caress was warm and comforting, and she wished she could stay attached to him forever. But her father was out there in the dark, alone, and he needed her. She forced her legs to let go of Jamie’s waist, and when her feet reached the floor, she turned for the door. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she swayed, her head pounding out a throbbing beat from hitting the tiled floor.
Before she could take a step, strong arms slipped under her knees, and Jamie lifted her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her aching head on his shoulder as he carried her to the backyard.
“Wait, back up to the door.” Without questioning her, he stepped back, and she reached around the doorframe and flipped on the outside lights. At the edge of the patio surrounding the pool, he turned them in a full circle, but she didn’t see her father.
“Where is he? Oh God, we have to find him.” She tried to see past the rim of light. “Daddy?”
Halfway through another turn, Jamie stopped, then gently pressed her face back against his neck. A few seconds later, he placed her on a pool chair. “Don’t move, Sugar.”
Confused, she watched him remove his shoes, then two guns and a knife appeared from the pockets of his cargo pants. A neat little stack grew next to him: shoes, weapons, cell phone, wallet, then his shirt. It wasn’t until he dived into the pool that she understood.
“No, Daddy, no!”
Rearing up, she took a step, then crumbled into a heap as intense dizziness struck her. On her hands and knees—ignoring the scrape of the patio’s cement on her legs and hands—she crawled to the edge of the pool.
Jamie burst though the surface of the water, his arm wrapped around her father’s lifeless body. Giving her a sympathetic look, Jamie carried him up the pool’s steps and laid him on the patio.
“Nooo, Daddy, nooo. Please God, no.”
Why did her voice sound like ten-year-old Hannah’s? The memory of seeing paramedics bent over her mother’s body on the kitchen floor merged with the sight of Jamie trying to find a pulse on her father.
Suddenly the backyard was lit up and she felt like she was in a windstorm. She looked up at the night sky, then squeezed her eyes shut against the brilliant light shining down on her. The thump-thump sound she heard must be her heart breaking.
“Mommy?” she whispered, then her world turned to black.
Jamie had once prayed for the lives of the people he loved, but it hadn’t done any good. As he sat next to Sugar’s hospital bed, he held her hands, bowed his head, and begged God to please listen this time. He just wished she’d wake up.
“I got here as fast as I could. The Feds are going through his house, and before I left, they’d found all kinds of incriminating evidence. Not that it matters now. How is she?”
He glanced up at Kincaid, then turned a watchful eye back to Sugar. “She has a grade three concussion. Concerning in itself, but what has the doctors worried is it’s the second one she’s experienced in the last three years. There’s a record of her being brought to the emergency room by Vanders a little over two years ago. Must have happened shortly before she ran away.” And who was to say there hadn’t been other unreported times she’d been knocked around, hitting her head?
“Bastard,” the boss growled.
Even bastard was a too kind word for the man. “According to the hospital’s records, he claimed she hit her head diving into the pool, but that’s a damn lie. She couldn’t swim and wouldn’t have willingly dived into anything with water in it.”
Kincaid squeezed his shoulder before pulling over a second chair. “Did she back up his story?”
“There’s nothing in the records that she said anything. I’m guessing she was too afraid to dispute him.” Restless, he stood and leaned over her, caressing her cheek. “Sugar, sweetheart, wake up.”
Nothing.
If she never woke up, he was going to dig up Vanders’s body after he was buried and tear him apart, limb by limb. Jamie hissed out a frustrated breath. Why hadn’t he told her he loved her? If he had, then maybe she’d have something to live for. Why had he thought it would be better if he waited until all the mess with her husband was over? Even thinking of the man as her husband turned his stomach sour. What had she lived through married to the bastard of all bastards, with no one to turn to for help?
If she awoke, he’d stop cursing again. Did you hear that, God? But looking at her pale face, wondering if he’d ever be able to hold her in his arms again, if he’d ever hear her throaty laugh again, he needed the curse words.
“Why don’t you take a break, Saint? I got a couple of hotel rooms for us. Go take a shower, get a few minutes’ rest. I’ll stay with her.”
He turned an incredulous stare at Kincaid. No way was he leaving Sugar. Not an option. What if she woke up and he wasn’t here? “So you’d leave Dani to go get rest when she needed you?”
The boss glanced from the woman lying lifeless in the bed to him. “No. I’ll go get you a cup of coffee and something to eat.”
“Thanks.”
Jamie leaned forward in his chair, keeping Sugar’s hand in his.
“I can’t do this again, sweetheart. I just can’t. You have to wake up.” Somehow he’d managed to go on living after killing his parents, but if Sugar died, too, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.
Hot tears trailed down his cheeks, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but seeing her smile at him again with mischief in the blue eyes that sometimes turned violet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Several doctors had appeared and kicked him out of the room for a while, and he’d lost track of how many hours had passed since they’d allowed him back in. Enough time to debrief the boss, give a statement to the FBI, and more time to think than a man on the brink of losing it should be granted.
She was so pale and still. If only she’d move, even if just a finger. He picked up her hand, cold to the touch, and rubbed both his palms over her skin in an attempt to warm her.
What if she just slept on forever like Sleeping Beauty? Never knowing he was with her, never hearing him tell her he loved her? He leaned his mouth to her ear. “Sugar, sweetheart, wake up.”
Still nothing.
“I love you, Sugar Darling. I don’t care if you’re the worst driver in the
world, or if you butcher your metaphors, I still love you.” He kissed her icy lips. “Wake up, damn it.” When there was no response, he buried his face against her neck and inhaled her scent deep into his lungs.
“Don’t . . . don’t curse.”
At first, he didn’t know who’d spoken. The voice was too raspy to recognize as Sugar’s. He jerked his gaze to her face, and blue eyes stared unblinkingly back at him.
“Sugar! Christ, you scared the life out of me.”
Her beautiful lips curved upward. “Hi.”
Profound relief—the likes of which he’d never felt before—morphed into laughter. When she stared at him as if he’d lost his mind, he shrugged. “If angels ever sang in heaven, they should be singing this minute.” So he was spouting nonsense now?
Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Why?”
“Why are angels singing? Because, sweetheart, I love you. Don’t you think that’s something they should sing about?”
“You do?”
“Do I think angels should sing?” An irritated look sparkled in her eyes, and he wanted to sink to his knees and thank God for it. She was alive—awake and ready to take him on—and he fought against, then failed to stop the tears rolling down his face.
“Yeah, I do. Love you, that is. God, Sugar, you scared me. That’s twice now, and I’m begging you, please, never again.”
She frowned as she surveyed the room, her gaze stopping on the monitor. “Why am I in the hospital?”
“You don’t remember?”
Ecstatic to be out of the hospital and home with Jamie, Sugar curled up next to him. The only thing marring her happiness was the blank space in her mind. Whenever she asked about that night, Jamie would change the subject.
“When you’re ready, I’ll tell you,” was all he’d say.
The only reason she’d not insisted on hearing the details was because she couldn’t honestly say, even to herself, that she was ready. Something at the back of her mind nagged at her, and deep in her soul, she knew whatever it was, it would hurt. Unable to put her finger on what was troubling her, she kept her thoughts to herself.
Junior jumped onto Jamie’s lap and sat, staring at the man with unblinking green eyes. “Meep.”
Sugar stifled a giggle. Her cat had learned he was an easy mark. “He’s going to end up fat,” she said when Jamie pulled a few treats out of his shirt pocket.
“Fat and happy,” Jamie replied, unrepentant. “Watch this.” He held one of the treats high, just out of reach of Junior’s nose. “You want it, say meow.”
“Eooul.”
“Not quite there, my boy, but close enough for now.” Jamie held out his hand with the treat resting on his palm, and her damn cat took it with a daintiness he’d never shown her when giving him something.
“Son of a bitch,” she grumbled. “He bites my fingers if I do that.”
The man she loved—heart, body, and soul—laid his head back on the couch and laughed so hard that all she could do was stare at him in wonder. That was the Jamie she’d seen pictures of in the newsprints she’d pored over. The always-happy boy—the one with a grin on his face who seemed ready to take on the world—had finally come home.
He was whole again, and before she could say the same, she’d have to face whatever it was he was keeping from her. It would be so easy to let it go and pretend there was nothing left to hurt her, but she was Sugar and Sugar was brave. She’d had to be to survive the attentions of Rodney. It was time to learn the truth.
Once his laughter faded, she took Jamie’s hand. “I’m ready to know everything.”
His eyes searched hers, and as if understanding it was time, he nodded. “Get dressed. Let’s take my boat out.”
“Are you warm enough?” Jamie glanced at Sugar, bundled up against the early-November chill. The gulf was calm, allowing the Sea Ray to cut smoothly through the water.
She grinned, lifting her face to the afternoon sun. “I’m as snug as a slug in a rug.”
“Bug. It’s a bug in a rug.” Her eyes, the first thing about her he’d noticed, danced with mischief, and it finally dawned on him that she’d always intentionally misquoted her little sayings.
“What?” she asked when he laughed.
“Just thinking I should’ve caught on to you sooner. My bad.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against him, where she belonged.
A week had passed since she’d been released from the hospital and he’d brought her back home to Pensacola. Seven days of avoiding her questions, insisting she needed to heal before she dealt with anything but getting better. Her headaches had ceased three days ago, along with the frequent naps.
Although knowing she was right and it was time to tell her, he was concerned with how she’d take the news. Wanting a peaceful place where they wouldn’t be interrupted, he was taking her back to the spot he’d tried to teach her to swim.
After he dropped anchor, he went below and poured her a glass of wine. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked once they were settled on the rear bench seat, Sugar sitting between his legs and leaning back against his chest. She took a sip of her wine, then reached for his hand and pulled it around her waist as if she needed his touch. Jamie spread his fingers over her side, wishing it were a warmer day so she didn’t need the sweatshirt and fleece-lined jacket. He wanted to feel her skin to skin.
She lifted her face and peered up at him. “I remember ringing Rodney’s doorbell, then nothing.”
That was good and not good. The beating Vanders had given her wouldn’t plague her dreams. He was sorry though that she didn’t remember her father had finally done the right thing by her. Although Jamie considered her father a coward for not facing his punishment like a man, he would never tell her that. Minimizing her treatment at the hands of Vanders, he told her of the events leading up to her father standing up for her. He dreaded telling her the end result.
When he finished, she was so still and quiet, he leaned forward and peered down at her, wondering if she’d fallen asleep. For the first few days after her head injury, she’d be awake one minute, then dead to the world the next with no warning. Her eyes were open though, her gaze fixed on the horizon. He took the empty wineglass from her, setting it on the floor of the boat.
“Are they in jail then?” she finally asked.
Jamie kissed the top of her head, wrapped both arms around her, and held her tight. “No, baby. They’re both dead. In the end, your father came through for you. He saved you, sweetheart, and that’s what matters.”
He held her while she cried.
When her tears dried, she turned and plastered herself over him as if needing the shelter of his body. Her mouth found his, a hunger seeming to rage through her. He’d never been kissed so desperately before. Jamie understood. The day he’d killed his parents, he’d felt the same but there had been no one there to hold him, no one to share his grief. He was there for her though, always would be.
“Hold on,” he said, and stood with her in his arms, carrying her below to the cabin. A profound sense of peace he hadn’t felt in far too many years settled over him as she nestled her face against his neck. After easing her down to the bunk, he closed the door to keep the chill out, then reached up to the control panel and flipped on the heat.
Light coming in from the overhead hatch shone down on her, making her seem radiant, as if she glowed just for him. He set a knee on the bed beside her and placed his hands on either side of her head, capturing her gaze.
“I don’t care what your name is. Sugar Darling, Hannah Conley, Janie Turner, doesn’t matter. Whoever you choose to be, know this. I love you. You’re not what I thought I wanted, but I was wrong. You’re everything I need, all I’ll ever want, and the only woman I will ever love.” Blue eyes darkened to violet, his new favorite color.
“Show me, Jamie. Show me how mu
ch you love me.”
“That I can do, sweetheart.” Although he wanted to free the man he’d buried so deeply and rip off her clothes so he could make wild, dirty love to her, he knew how much she was hurting. She needed soft and tender, needed him to check his urges and just be there for her.
It was all right. He was no longer afraid of that man, but he could wait just a little longer to return. There was no doubt in his mind Sugar could take on that part of him without a blink of those beautiful eyes.
Heart surging with joy, Jamie unzipped her jacket and pulled her up so he could slip it off. Slowly peeling away each layer of her clothing—torture at its best—he finally had her naked. His eyes raked her body, and if asked what was his favorite part of her, he’d be at a loss to answer. No, he did know. All of her. Every lovely, exquisite inch of her.
He flattened his palm over her stomach and spread his fingers where someday his child would begin its life. What he’d long dreamed of was finally coming true. If the woman who would be his wife was as different from his mother as humanly possible, it no longer mattered. Somehow he knew his parents would have loved her.
“If you’re just going to spend the night looking at me, then take off your clothes so I have something to stare at.”
A wide grin split his face at the irritation glittering in her eyes, something not too many days ago he’d feared never seeing again. “Yes ma’am.”
With her gaze following him in obvious interest, he decided to give her a show, and with teasing slowness, he stripped off jacket, shirt, shoes, and socks. Down to his jeans, he stepped next to the bunk and raised a brow.
His woman, being the smart lady she was, gave him a sultry smile and sat up, wiggling into place in front of him. Staying with his game of going slow, she inched the tip of one finger down the arrow of hair pointing to his groin. She paused, a hair’s breadth from the button on his jeans. His cock jerked, demanding freedom from its confines.
