Never Say Goodbye

by Sakwa, Kim

  “Can I sleep with you, Papa?”

  “Yes, angel.” He reached out to capture her little head in the palm of his hand. “You can always sleep with me.” She threw her hands around his legs and he picked her up, hugging her tightly as he swung her toward the bed. “You get to sleep with Mama as well.”

  “But Mama never sleeps with you, Papa.”

  Alexander turned, looking at the woman in his bed. “She does now, angel.” This new woman faced him now, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. Her hands reached out, waiting to enfold Callesandra. He handed his daughter to her, the action somehow feeling right, and safe. He watched as she hugged her just as lovingly as he had, then stood and unfastened his cloak and removed his shirt. Callesandra remained buried in the woman’s arms, her face hidden against her chest. The woman watched as he undressed, leaving only his breeches on.

  He came silently into bed, looking at the two of them taking comfort from each other. “Mama, you’re so cold,” Callesandra whispered. “And you still have your dress on.”

  She answered his daughter while staring into his eyes. “I didn’t feel well today, Callesandra. I was too tired to remove my dress.”

  “Papa said you were ill. Take your dress off, Mama, sleep in your shift.”

  “I’m fine. Hush now, angel, go back to sleep.”

  Alexander sighed. His daughter was right. “Sit up,” he ordered softly, and she did.

  He turned her to face the other way and undid the fastenings of her dress, pushing the material from her shoulders. It was then he saw the bruise on her back and those on her arms.

  Callesandra gasped. “Mama, what happened?”

  “I fell, sweetheart. It doesn’t hurt.” She smiled over her shoulder at Callesandra.

  Alexander knew she lied for the sake of his daughter. He helped slip the dress down, then freed it from her feet. He tossed it to the floor at the end of the bed, smiling as Callesandra giggled.

  They both lay down again, looking at each other, eyes filled with regret, but both for different reasons.

  “Your name?” Alexander finally whispered when he was sure Callesandra was asleep between them. The woman lowered her eyes, but didn’t speak.

  Alexander bristled and repeated the question.

  “Amanda,” she said after a long moment.

  “Where are you from, Amanda?” he asked, relief flooding his body.

  It took a long time for her to answer. “Far from here, Alexander. So far I’m not sure if it truly exists anymore.”

  “Is there something or someone you’re running from? The lover I pulled from you last night?” The thought not only sickened him, it angered him.

  “No,” she said, her face open and earnest. She was telling the truth. “I’ve never run from anything, and he was not my lover.”

  “You ran from me,” he reminded her, suppressing a relieved smile. “You chose the cliff wall rather than the protection of my men.”

  “I’d never seen them before, Alexander. How was I to know they wouldn’t harm me?”

  “My men would never harm you, nor would I.”

  “You hate Rebecca. And if I am she, then you hate me too.” Her voice was small—she looked almost scared.

  “I didn’t hate her. That would imply that I loved her at one time. I only hated her actions, her cruelness, especially to my daughter.”

  “Is Callesandra only yours, then?”

  “No, Amanda. She is ours.” It sounded right. He hoped she would agree. He’d only just met this woman, Amanda, but something told him she was the only woman for him.

  “What of your wife, Alexander?” she asked.

  “Well,” he said, slowly, measuring his words, not sure how much to say. “It seems as you said last night: you are my wife, and for the sake of my daughter you shall remain.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay,” she said.

  “Have you somewhere else to go?”

  “No.”

  “Is there a letter you wish to send, a relative you have need to contact?”

  “I wouldn’t know where to send it, and there’d be no one to receive it.”

  “Then as I’ve said, Amanda, you shall stay—for the sake of my daughter,”

  “And what of yourself, Alexander? What of your sake?”

  “I have no sake, I have only my daughter.”

  “You’re very lucky then, Alexander, for I have nothing—at least not here.”

  Amanda turned, taking Callesandra with her. She faced the wall, failing to hide the tears that fell down her face. Alexander wrapped his arms around her, pulling both her and Callesandra into his protective embrace.

  “You have me and my daughter now, Amanda.”

  Alexander tucked her head under his chin, holding them even tighter. They slept that way the entire night.

  Actually, Alexander Montgomery decided he was a man quick to anger. Bloody hell, how much was he supposed to take? And where in the hell was Amanda? His five-truck convoy, just south of Oak Street, sat idle. He shifted in his seat and looked at the face of his Breitling again, thirteen hundred. “Sam?” he said into his transceiver. It was the third time he’d questioned her. Normally he would have smiled at her audible sigh, since it reminded him of Amanda—he wondered who had picked it up from whom. But these past ten months since arriving in this century had taken their toll, and to have finally found Amanda and Callesandra, to have them virtually in his grasp and now to not—well, he was just done with it all. He wanted to beat the hell out of Evan for thinking it was best to let Amanda draw her own conclusions. This would never have happened if she’d just known. Known who she was, who he was—who they were. Maybe he was angry with himself for momentarily being satisfied with just being close to them again.

  Samantha made him wait ten long seconds before her voice sounded through his earbud thanks to technology—which, despite its new ubiquitous presence in his life, still amazed him sometimes. “Maybe she had to change a diaper, Alex. Besides it’s a beautiful day, so unseasonably warm,” she told him. “She’ll stick to her routine. Something just held her up a few minutes.” It was the third time she’d given him this same explanation from inside the nearby truck where she sat with Stephen and three of his men. In his own defense, he hadn’t been in such a snit when he’d arrived at Amanda’s penthouse two hours ago, just forty-five minutes after they’d landed. Once he’d realized Amanda and Stan had left the Range Rover behind in lieu of a stroll through the city, he’d become angry. Frustrated, and just the other side of furious, he’d headed out to find them. This time locked and loaded. All of them. Overkill? Absolutely. Stan wasn’t going to be pleased by the turn of events. To be honest, he really didn’t give a continental fuck. He wanted his family back. And he was taking them. Today. The only thing presently helping Stan’s case was that he’d requested two men from their Chicago offices to ensure his family’s security while taking to the streets. Not that he’d told Alexander that, but the Chicago office had informed him—some employees were loyal.

  The hairs on the nape of his neck stood a second before Amanda turned the corner pushing a carriage with Callie by her side, as though his body had sensed her coming. As he watched them move down the block, his hands flexed, and his heart constricted painfully, just seeing them. Just seeing her. Bloody hell, she was beautiful. Even buttoned up in light winter gear, she may as well have stepped right out of one of the store windows. He watched as she stopped before a storefront obviously for Callie’s sake as his daughter skipped right up to it and pressed her face against the glass. Alexander tapped the window and Gregor and the rest of his team merged with traffic, slowly inching their way down Michigan Avenue. Stan and his men saw their convoy approaching—which was exactly how Alexander wanted it—and instantly moved in on Amanda and his children. Trevor, who was seated across from Alexander, gave a thumbs-up to
indicate that he’d hacked their transmitter frequency and were now able to listen to their verbal communication. Stan and his men must have figured it out immediately, as they went silent right away, switching to hand signals. Alexander tapped the window again, barely waiting for the truck to stop before he got out. The wait was over.

  Alexander started forward as his men took their positions, effectively shutting down half a city block of prime Chicago real estate. Stan and his men had Amanda surrounded. And he had them surrounded. Alexander listened as Gregor told Stan to stand down. Stan was pissed as hell. Said he’d had it handled. Welcome to my world, son.

  Five minutes earlier

  “Callie, come on, sweetie,” Amanda called. It was well past lunchtime and she needed to get Zander home. It was unusually warm for this time of year, so they’d stayed out longer than normal. She’d just turned the corner onto Michigan Avenue when a storefront caught her daughter’s attention and she had indulgently waved her toward it, grateful for a moment of pause, anyway. A minute or so later, Callie turned from the window she’d been peering in and grinned. Amanda’s heart melted. She held out her hand and waited until Callie grabbed it. Something about being in Chicago, just the two of them—well, Zander and Stan aside—was so freeing. It helped ground her anger and the uncertainty she’d been feeling about so many things. Like who in the hell Alexander Montgomery was and where in the heck had she met him. Why was he gone from their lives for the entirety of her pregnancy—which she also didn’t remember—and now back again? The only thing she was sure of right now was that being away from home was the best move she’d made.

  Of the many calls she’d received, there was only one she’d accepted. Evan’s. She had no beef with him and honestly, she liked him. He was professional and kind and he only wanted to help her and to ease her memory’s return in, if at all possible, a constructive way. And now more than ever that was something she wanted too.

  “Are we going home today?” Callie asked.

  Amanda smiled down at her and started pushing the stroller again. Callie had overheard the conversation she’d had with Stan last night. Al—Mr. Montgomery, she’d decided to go back to formalities—had apparently told him to wrap things up and bring her and the children home. To California. By lunchtime, which was…hours ago. She smiled inwardly. Heck, she grinned outwardly. It felt good to fight back. “No, sweetie.” Jeez, she actually had a spring in her step. “We’re staying until Sunday, just like I said.”

  Callie giggled and covered her mouth with her hands before she told her, “He’s gonna come, Mama.”

  “So you keep reminding me.” Amanda thought she’d said it under her breath, but when Callie pulled an overly exasperated face, she realized her daughter had heard her. With a sigh she knelt and held Callie’s shoulders. “I know you miss your papa, Callie.” Oddly, Amanda felt like she had missed him too. She didn’t remember him, at least not before he brought her home from the hospital, but some part of her thought she really had missed him. It was also surprising how easy it had been to slip into calling him her “papa,” though she hadn’t yet settled on “husband” for herself. “Do you remember what I told you? Think really hard, it’s super important.”

  Callie pursed her lips, a determined look crossing her face. It wasn’t much longer before she said, “You said no one would ever take me away from you.”

  Jeez, out of the mouths of babes—that was not what she was referring to, and in fact Amanda had no recollection of saying that to Callie. What she’d told Callie was not to worry, that they would figure everything out. Now, however, Amanda grabbed her and pulled her in tight. Was she—had she been on the run from Mr. Montgomery? When—and why—had she felt the need to tell her little girl something like that? “You listen to me, my sweet baby girl, we”—she motioned between them for emphasis—“are going to keep on going just like we have been.” She kissed her cheeks, hugged her tight, and reminded her, “I’m pretty good at making the rules, aren’t I?”

  Callie laughed out loud. “You’re good at breaking rules, Mama.”

  “Oh, tomato, tamahto… Come on, your brother’s fussy.”

  Amanda had just reached down for Zander when she heard Stan swear behind her and Callie whisper “Mama” as she latched on to her thigh. Stan was telling someone to back off. Obviously on his earbud since he wouldn’t be saying that to her. She picked up Zander instinctively and Callie said “Mama” again, this time with more force.

  “What, sweetie?” she said distractedly while turning to Stan. Jeez, he looked furious. The other two men guarding them closed in. Really tight. Callie shouted this time, drawing Amanda’s full attention, and pointed toward the street. Amanda felt a moment’s hesitation before turning. And when she did, she gasped.

  She’d seen this picture before. Last night, as a matter of fact. She’d been preparing dinner while Callie sat on the sofa in the kitchen. One second the TV had been muted, then it was blaring. Amanda had startled at the noise then turned. Callie was standing on the coffee table, her whole body shaking with excitement, remote in hand. She’d rewound whatever had caught her attention and listened as the TV news anchor spoke. “From our business desk—exclusive and rare footage of billionaire Alexander Montgomery, president and CEO of Montgomery Enterprises. Mr. Montgomery is seen here, leaving his New York headquarters. His entrance to America happens to coincide with a masterful power grab of JDL Security.” They showed a caravan of black Lincoln Navigators pull up to a prestigious Manhattan address. The cameras of course focused on him. The impressive, handsome man in question stepped from his vehicle. He ignored the press as he and his entourage entered the building. The newscaster continued, “While still in London, Mr. Montgomery amassed a brilliant staff, hand picking, if not plucking, some of the savviest technical, military, and medical minds. He’s apparently settled in the States indefinitely.”

  Callie had thought it was so cool to see him on TV, but when she’d skipped over to her and asked if she could call him, Amanda’s heart broke a little. How was she supposed to know what to do? She didn’t want to keep her daughter from her father, but there were still so many things that didn’t make sense to her. And she’d had Stan remove whatever tracking gadgets had been placed in their phones or on their persons and belongings. She just needed some space. “For now, sweetie,” she’d said, trying to calm her juiced-up daughter, “let’s just make it a mommy and babies’ trip. On Sunday, we’ll go back home.” Then she’d figure out what to do and how to handle things. She didn’t want to promise a visit, or dinner, or quite frankly anything for that matter. At least not yet. She’d held her little cheeks and told her, “I don’t want you to worry about anything, understand? Mommy will figure it out.”

  Stan swore again, jarring Amanda back to the present as the caravan came to a stop. The doors opened in unison and Mr. Montgomery and his men emerged. Callie was right, her papa had come. And jeez, they meant business today. All in black suits. All wearing sunglasses. And she’d bet her life that they were all armed. They were large men and had a way of taking up the most space possible with a stance. Using hand signals to communicate, his men formed a perimeter, shutting down the street as he continued toward her.

  Something about the way he looked now—dressed to the nines, storming so powerfully toward her, so totally in command—set her body thrumming right there on the street. Seriously, Amanda Abigail Marceau! How did you forget him? He was her every girlhood fantasy come to life. All six and a half feet of him. Tall. Broad. Dark. And so wickedly handsome. Straight nose, strong chin, and a mouth, she would swear, that was made to give orders. In fact, she watched him order Stan and his men just now to stand down as he walked right up to her. Like almost touching right up to her. She had to tilt her head back, which wasn’t something she was accustomed to doing, not at her height. He stared at her a good few seconds, his eyes softening just a bit, before saying quite forcefully, “It seems there’s a security
problem.”

  “Wh…” Amanda had to wet her mouth; it had gone bone dry at his accent. She did after all have a thing for his voice, and apparently after just two days without it, it worked its magic on her again. She tried once more, “What security problem?”

  “I’m in charge of your security,” he shouted as he got right in her face, “and you’re my problem!”

  Callie giggled, obviously not afraid of her father in the least as he knelt to pick her up. Amanda was about to tell him to put her down, but he’d motioned with his head and told her, “Move!”

  “Excuse me?” It wasn’t so much what he’d said, but how he’d said it. That jerk of the head was one she used. Repeatedly, with Callie.

  “Bloody hell, Amanda! Get in the God damned truck!” he ordered again as Gregor came forward and grabbed Callie, leading her away.

  Instinctively, Amanda reached out for Callie with her only free hand—a futile gesture, it turned out. She was losing control of the situation completely and started to panic. Sensing her stress, Stan reached for his gun. Okay, so not the right thing to do under the circumstances but seriously it was turning into a big boy pissing match and had made Montgomery absolutely furious. She watched as he beat him to it, pulling out his own gun.

  “I told you to bring them home, Finch. You had your orders. Yesterday,” he shouted, twisting the barrel against Stan’s temple.

  “Old habits, eh, Montgomery? Think we’re going to duel right here in the street?” Stan said, which made the larger man snarl. Amanda had no idea what he meant, but had no time think, either.

  “It’s not his fault,” Amanda cried, reaching out, positioning herself in front of Stan. “Stop, please. We’ll go. Right now, if you’d like.”