One to Save

by Tia Louise

  I watch as he straightens and pulls the thin material down his bare chest. He’s still wearing his black loafers. “I ate so much cake this afternoon with Bea, I might burst if I eat another thing.”

  With a wink, he’s headed to the door. “When I get back, we’ll see about working off those extra calories.”

  Despite the tension, I can’t help smiling at his suggestion. “If I’m still awake.”

  “I seem to recall you like the way I wake you.”

  He’s out the door before I can make another quip. It’s probably for the best. He’s right, after all. I do love the way he wakes me, especially when he starts with slow, lingering kisses below my waist.

  Warmth curls my toes and I sigh. “Oh, Derek. What are you hiding now?”

  Chapter 2: Threats

  Derek

  I’m not hungry. Maneuvering my black Audi through the empty streets of Princeton, I pass under traffic lights blinking yellow, block after block, taking me further away from what I have to do. I’ve never run from a problem, but the reasons driving me on are inescapable.

  They’re a woman who smells like roses mixed with the ocean, who fulfills me in a way nothing else does, and a little boy with round, sapphire eyes just like hers. My fiancée. My son. The second-chance I thought I’d never have that dropped in my lap one week in the desert. The future I could lose just as fast.

  Gripping the steering wheel, images trickle from the corners of my brain—a dark conference room, Patrick and me cramped in the adjacent tech booth, fighting with all my strength. On the other side of the glass is our target. He’s holding a woman—our bait—by the throat, strangling the life out of her while he hisses his poison in her face.

  Star’s cheeks go from red to purple as he grips her, and the sound of her sniffs, her nose running as her life is twisted from her body, is a noise that still ignites an explosion of rage in my chest. He touched Melissa that way...

  The necklace was the final nail in his coffin. When that fucker pulled it out, holding it for all of us to see, I knew I didn’t have a choice. He’d been in her cottage and taken it from her somehow. She didn’t even know he’d done it.

  I’m at the Alexander-Knight building. I don’t remember driving here, but I park the car near the front entrance and kill the engine. That night is like a dream. With one word, Sangria, Patrick released me. The shock and recognition barely registered on Sloan’s sick face before I had him in my hands.

  Closing my eyes, I can still feel his wretched skull against my palms. No hesitation. Immediate action. The satisfying Crack! of his fucking neck as I twisted it echoes in my brain. In one motion, I ended his threat to my family forever, then I stood over his dead body and smiled, the warmth of satisfaction flooding my veins like hot liquid.

  I have to tell her. I have to do it before the wedding. It’s not like she loved the guy. It’s not like she probably didn’t wish him dead. It’s not like he didn’t beat her, leave her with that scar at her hairline... My jaw clenches so hard at the memory of the photograph she showed me. Her beautiful blue eyes rimmed in ugly purple bruises, the jagged cut extending into her scalp, gaping open like a blood-red mouth. A tiny silver line is all that’s left to remind us what he did to her, yet the memory of him hurting her that way... I’ve never felt such consuming wrath.

  I’m breathing too fast. I need to get out and think. I need to calm down and clear my head. I walk under the security lamps to the obelisk fountain in the center of our courtyard. It’s cool out, but not frigid. Spring is breaking all over, and the fresh scent of new growth fills the air.

  Dropping onto a nearby bench, I lean forward and jam my hands in the sides of my hair. I know why this is so hard. Lowering them, I study my palms. With malice aforethought, I placed my palms on the sides of Sloan Reynolds’s head and murdered him. It wasn’t wartime. He wasn’t an enemy combatant. He wasn’t even coming at me with a weapon.

  I charged out of that tech booth with one thing on my mind, and I walked straight up to him and snapped his neck like a twig. Then I stood over him and allowed the sick satisfaction of what I’d done to wash over me like some fucking psychopath. I reveled in that revenge. I drank it in like the finest Scotch.

  How can I tell her that? It’s a side of me Melissa has never seen. It’s a dark and brutal part I’m not sure she could love. It’s useful in combat, but it doesn’t make me proud. Clearly, I can’t even control it.

  Patrick, Toni... or Star, and I have never talked about it directly. None of us has ever named what I did. We only reference it sideways. It’s our secret. The variable we didn’t plan for. The thing we’re all so ready to sweep under the rug and forget.

  Patrick’s position is to walk away. He and Star both say it was justice, and telling Melissa will only make her blame herself. For a little while it worked. I’d believed my only reason for keeping it from her was to protect her from somehow adopting the blame for my actions.

  Time has pulled the curtain back on that half-truth. Protecting Melissa is only part of why I can’t tell her. The other part is much more basic, more black and white. In one moment of authoritarian rage, I turned my back on everything I believed, everything I dedicated my life to defend. I sank all the way to his level that night. I became the monster I killed.

  With a growl, I clench my fists, and I know with painful certainty Melissa won’t understand. How could she? Over and over she begged me to put it behind us. She wanted to move on and be stronger than her past, and now I’ve chained us to it forever.

  No statute of limitations applies to what I’ve done. I didn’t simply take the law into my own hands, I put our family in jeopardy. I’m a felon, a murderer. No matter how many years go by, how far we get from that night, how old we are or how much she might need me, if I’m ever discovered, I’ll go to prison. Depending on the circumstances, I could get the death penalty.

  “Fuck.” Pushing against my thighs, I stand, staring out across the courtyard. “He deserved it,” I try, but the words ring hollow.

  Who the fuck am I to decide what anyone deserves? When did I buy into vigilante justice? I’m a Marine. I took an oath. I trained as a cop. Everything I’ve ever done has been to uphold the laws of this country. I put my life on the line over and over to defend our way of life, yet in one moment, I turned my back on all of it.

  I’m no anarchist. I’m an American hero. At least, I was.

  “Melissa... Melissa.” Closing my eyes, I say her name like a prayer for forgiveness. Will she forgive me? Will she understand?

  I killed a man in cold blood with the very hands I use to touch her... with the same hands I use to hold our son.

  “God dammit!” My shout echoes off the concrete walls, and I know what has to happen. I have to look what I’ve done in the face. She has to know the truth and decide if she’s willing to live this life with me. If she can marry me knowing what’s hanging over our heads.

  If she wants me to turn myself in, I will. If she can’t love me anymore... Shit. I can’t even think that.

  Either way, I have to say it out loud to the one person who makes everything real, and I have to do it soon.

  * * *

  When I return to the condo, I’ve mentally prepared myself to say it, and she’s in my bed asleep. Lying on her side, curled in her familiar sleeping position, I can’t bring myself to wake her. It would ruin her night, and a few more hours won’t make a difference.

  Climbing in beside her, I pull her into my arms. As always, she melts into me as if she belongs there.

  She always belongs there.

  Since that first night in Scottsdale, I’ve known she belongs to me. Yet... that night I’d been hired by her husband to watch her. Is it possible the wheels I set in motion, taking her instead of doing my job, doomed us from the start?

  Pressing my face into her hair I inhale deeply, allowing her scent to relax my mind. These thoughts will drive me crazy if I let them. Sloan tricked me as much as everyone else, and my role in this has
always been to save her from him.

  Still, my mind can’t let it go. How will our beginning appear to a jury? I can only imagine how a prosecutor will take our situation and run with it. I’ve worked on prosecution teams. Shit, I’d been the key witness in the case against Slayde Bennett. They’ll crucify me.

  I followed her to Scottsdale, seduced her, then killed her ex-husband.

  It would drag all of Melissa’s past out of the closet and expose it to intense media scrutiny. She once called Sloan her humiliating truth, and now thanks to me, it could all be put on display for the world to see. The beatings, the prostitutes... adultery, murder. It’s a sensational, juicy story. The press would eat it up.

  Tightening my hold on her, I hug her to me as my chest collapses. The weight of the position I’ve placed her in destroys me.

  When morning finally rolls around, I’m exhausted from wrestling with my thoughts all night. Melissa’s still asleep, so I slip out of bed and go to the kitchen for coffee. Just as I’ve sat down, my phone buzzes. Stuart.

  “What’s got you out of bed so early,” I ask.

  His voice sounds surprised. “I was planning to leave a message.”

  “Now you don’t have to. What’s going on?”

  He clears his throat, and it sounds as if he’s been wrestling with his thoughts all night as well. “Nikki gave her notice on Friday.”

  My brow rises. Not what I expected. “Didn’t you just get back to the office?”

  “Yeah. She said she only stayed to keep things running until I came back.”

  She could’ve told me, I think but don’t say. “What’s her reason?”

  A soft voice sounds in the background on his end, and I hear a brush over the phone as he answers what I assume is Mariska. A few moments pass before he returns to the line.

  “Hey, I can’t really talk about this now. I’d rather discuss it Monday. Suffice to say, it’s because of something I did.”

  Shit. Nikki has never been one of my favorite employees, and I’m ready to let her go without a fight until he says those words.

  “You’ve been in Saudi three years. You were in the office in Princeton a week. Now you’re with Mariska. What the hell could you have done?”

  “When I get to the office Monday, I’ll call and explain.” His tone has an urgency that makes me relent.

  “Fine. Monday. Enjoy your weekend.”

  We end the call, and I sit back to think as I sip my coffee. I can only find one reason why Stuart would call me early on a Sunday morning to discuss Nikki resigning, and that reason is Mariska. He doesn’t want her to know. She should’ve been asleep, which leads me to believe it has something to do with sex.

  I can’t believe it. Stuart is as committed to professionalism and following a code of conduct at work as I am. At the same time, when he came back from Saudi, he was addicted to narcotic painkillers and basically hitting rock bottom. Patrick and I feared he might take his life.

  As much as I can’t imagine Stuart crossing a line, I can’t imagine Nikki suing us. The lion’s share of her duties has been working with me, and I’ve always treated her with respect. She and Melissa are close... Still, I know she carried a torch for my partner for years, and when he got back, well, he didn’t go to her. Mariska had been the woman to heal him.

  Finishing my coffee, I stand and walk to the sink. I’ll figure out this problem, solve it, and return to handling my shit. I’m just passing the table when my phone buzzes again. Patrick. Isn’t anybody sleeping this morning?

  “Why the hell aren’t you in bed with your wife? You’re supposed to be in your fucking honeymoon period.”

  “We’ve got a situation.” My younger partner’s usual cocky greeting is absent, his tone tense. “Will you be back tonight?”

  “We’ll probably leave in about an hour. Melissa needs to pick up Dex at her mother’s—”

  “Toni called. She’s in trouble.” My chest tightens at his words. This fucking snowball just keeps getting bigger. “It’s better if we discuss it in private, but it can’t wait.”

  “I’ll drop Melissa off and head over as soon as we get in.”

  “Meet me at the satellite office in town.”

  Disconnecting, I notice Melissa has joined me. She’s standing at the large windows gazing out over downtown. Based on her expression, I know she’s curious about my early calls. Melissa is one of the smartest people I know, and the fact I’ve been able to keep my shit from her so long blows my mind.

  “Everything okay?” She gives me a little smile, and dammit, she’s so beautiful. Her dark waves ripple over her shoulders, and she’s wearing a satin pajama top that displays her long, smooth legs.

  I can’t tell her what Patrick said, so I say what I can. “Stuart called. Nikki gave her notice Friday.”

  Her mouth drops open. “Nikki loves working for you guys! What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. Stuart’s only been in Princeton a week, but apparently there’s a story.”

  Crossing her arms, I can see her brain working behind those beautiful blue eyes. “It doesn’t make any sense. Nikki was excited he was coming back. She managed to work it into nearly every text or email she sent me leading up to his arrival.” Quiet settles over us, her eyes slowly move to mine. Despite all my conflict, warmth spreads across my chest. Stepping closer, I slide my hands over her hips, around her waist.

  “Are you going to let her go?” she asks softly.

  “Stuart will have to make that decision.” Pulling her closer, I drop my chin and take a deep inhale at the top of her head. Ocean roses. “I know you like her, but trust me. Nikki can be a challenge as a secretary.”

  Her arms are still crossed, and I can tell by her tone, she’s not buying it. “That explains why Stuart might fire her. Why would she quit?”

  “I’ll know tomorrow.”

  “So you’re going to talk to her about it?” Arms uncrossed, she returns my embrace at last. I love holding her this way. I love her holding onto me.

  “I’ll talk to Stuart first. He couldn’t discuss it in front of Mariska.”

  Again she’s quiet, thinking. “You think this has something to do with Mariska?”

  I exhale and kiss her head. “If it were Patrick, I’d say yes without hesitation, but Stuart’s different. He keeps it in his pants.”

  Pulling back, she barely hides her surprise. “You think he slept with Nikki?”

  “I’m not jumping to any conclusions. The reason Stuart and I agreed to start this firm is because of how alike we are. If something happened, my guess is it was before he left the last time.”

  “He wasn’t planning to come back.”

  I nod, remembering the night he left. He was pretty jazzed about going overseas. I left him and Nikki alone together at the bar. “Three years is a long time to keep a secret,” I say, thinking out loud.

  Her eyes narrow, and I realize I’ve given her an opening. “Even three months is a long time.”

  One problem at a time. I turn my gaze out the window and watch the bright green trees swaying in the early spring breeze. “Sometimes people have reasons for keeping quiet.”

  Chapter 3: Secrets

  Melissa

  Loud, impatient squeals echo from Dex’s room down the hall, forcing my eyes open. Looking around our bedroom, I see no signs of his father. He’d been late again last night after meeting with Patrick, and I wouldn’t have known he was back if he hadn’t pulled me into his arms in the darkness.

  Our son is only playfully complaining, so I take a moment to reflect on last night. It’s the second time in a row I’ve gone to bed alone. Combined with Derek’s increasing withdrawal, it’s getting to be more than I can take.

  Last night, when his strong arms circled my waist, pulling my back against his chest, it wasn’t like his usual embrace. His face moved into my hair, against my neck. “Melissa...” His voice cracked in a low whisper against my skin.

  He hadn’t been trying to wake me, yet the sound of t
hat break tightened my throat. Anxiety moved across my chest, and I slid my palms down his forearms to entwine our fingers.

  Sensitivity to my environment is a skill I learned the hard way during my final months in Sloan’s mansion. I’d slept with a can of pepper spray clutched beneath my pillow, all my senses on alert against any changes as I slept.

  Only one thing has ever scared Derek, according to him, and that “thing,” that threat—my ex-husband—has been dealt with. How exactly, I still don’t know, but I believe Derek’s words. So if Sloan is no longer a threat, what’s tormenting my love?

  I whispered his name in the darkness. Clutching our hands, he wrapped them around my waist as his mouth moved to the top of my shoulder. My head dropped back against him, and we held each other several long, quiet moments, our hearts beating together, our bodies touching head to toe. We were home, our son was in his bed asleep, we were together. What could be wrong?

  Releasing one of his hands, I reached up to thread my fingers into the side of his thick hair. I knew how to ease his tension. I wanted to ease his tension.

  The climate in Wilmington is warmer than Princeton, so I only sleep in a thin cami and panties. His large hands spanned my bare stomach, tightening my muscles. Derek’s touch is a delicious mixture of gentle and rough. Soft lips, scruff of beard; smoothing hands, firm grip. From the first night we were together, his touch has always made me hotter, wetter than I’ve ever been with anyone.

  Shrugging off my lace underwear, my eyes don’t open as he parts my thighs. His thick erection sinks deep into me, stretching me. “Oh, god,” I gasp. It’s so good.

  Arching my back to allow him further access, another soft moan scrapes from my throat as his expert fingers find my clit.

  Quiet words of desire, love, and appreciation rumble across my skin, and my mouth opens to release another little cry as I buck against him. Pleasure snakes up my thighs. He goes deeper, his length massaging my tightening insides.

  I want it harder, and I tell him so. He’s quick to comply. Large hands grip my breasts, and we’re working together, meeting each other thrust for thrust. Moving faster, gasping and grinding, our bodies tense as we reach the crest of orgasm.