Bring Me to Life

by Kira Sinclair

  Sweeping her disheveled hair out of her eyes, his fingers gently played across the skin at her temple. His lips found the crown of her head. And he whispered, “Baby.”

  Tatum squeezed her eyes shut.

  What had she just done?

  * * *

  FIVE DAYS LATER, Tatum’s head still spun. Standing at her worktable, she stared into space.

  The bell above the front door shot her out of the mental black hole she’d disappeared into. Shaking her head, she waited to hear the low rumble of Evan’s voice as he greeted the customer. In the last couple of days, they’d fallen into a pattern, and she still wasn’t sure if it was comfortable or uneasy. It just was.

  They spent their nights burning up the sheets. In those hours together, Tatum felt more connected to Evan than she ever had before. But in the bright light of morning, all the concerns and fears drifted right back in. She was on a mental seesaw, unsure how long she could hold out and endure the ride.

  At Petals, she’d been handling all the back-office stuff. Arranging flowers, ordering from wholesalers, fulfilling phone and internet orders. Evan looked after the retail space. He was charming, and everyone who walked through the door seemed to genuinely like him. Not a surprise; beneath the tattoos and intense eyes, he was a great guy.

  She’d taken to pausing, whenever a customer came in, to listen as he helped little old women choose flowers or advised some guy in the doghouse how to get out. He knew more about flowers and their meanings than she ever would have guessed.

  But that probably shouldn’t have surprised her. During a slow period yesterday, she’d caught him researching online. When she’d asked why, he’d said Petals was important to her, so learning everything he could was important to him.

  The comment had made her sigh. And sent a pool of fear flooding her belly.

  She waited, but after several moments she still hadn’t heard the rumble of his voice.

  Eyebrows beetled in confusion, Tatum walked through the door separating the retail space from her workroom. She greeted the customer with a distracted smile, her gaze sweeping the small area for Evan.

  It was pretty clear he wasn’t there. A flash of something through the window caught her attention. She stepped forward, stopping a foot away from the huge plate-glass window.

  The December chill seeped through the barrier, soaking into her skin. She spotted him on the sidewalk several stores down, surrounded by the shoppers rushing to quickly buy Christmas presents from the surrounding boutiques on their lunch hours.

  Tatum hugged herself, running hands up and down her arms to settle the goose bumps that had erupted across her flesh. It was because of the cold, not the sight of Evan, a hard expression pinching his face as he growled into his cell phone.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him moving away to talk on the phone. Or text. Or email. And each time he had, the severe expression on his face had become...harder.

  Whenever she asked him about it he brushed her off. Or distracted her. But he never answered her questions.

  And that did absolutely nothing to settle the ever-increasing jangle of nerves that seemed to fill her days.

  “I’m sorry,” a soft, gentle voice sounded at her elbow. “Could you help me? I want to send a poinsettia to my son and daughter-in-law.”

  Shaking her head, Tatum turned to give her customer a smile, but she knew it didn’t really come off as genuine.

  “Sure. Just follow me over here and we can fill out the delivery order. If you’d prefer, you’re welcome to pick out whichever one you’d like to send.” Tatum swept her hand across a modest display of the plants in several shades of red, pink and cream.

  “That would be wonderful,” the friendly woman said, veering over to choose one.

  Twenty minutes later, after answering several questions about the different colors, their history and possible meaning, the woman finally made her selection, filled out the form and paid.

  Normally, Tatum would have been more tolerant of her indecision. It was clear, because she mentioned it, that the daughter-in-law was new and the woman wanted to make sure her gesture was well received. They’d had a rocky start, apparently.

  It was the kind of thing Tatum enjoyed, a moment when her work could possibly help resolve a situation or make someone’s day brighter. These customers were much better than the cheating spouses who often came in to order flowers for both their wives and girlfriends.

  But Tatum was impatient, and the longer the woman took, the more restless she became. Evan hadn’t returned, and from her vantage point behind the register, she couldn’t tell if he was still pacing the same spot on the sidewalk.

  The minute the customer left, Tatum hotfooted it over to the window only to find him gone.

  He’d left again. Without a word.

  Anger bubbled inside her chest, slowly filling her up.

  While she was spending her nights baring herself and practically spilling her guts at his feet, sharing her business and the life she’d built without him, he was keeping secrets. Disappearing without a word and expecting she’d just...accept it as she’d always done.

  But things were different. She was different. And she wasn’t going to do this.

  She’d worked up a healthy head of steam when the front bell rang again. Hopping off of the stool she’d collapsed onto in her workroom while brooding, she didn’t get two feet before Evan’s voice greeted her.

  “I ran over to the pub and grabbed us lunch.”

  Tatum stopped inside the doorway, staring at him. He smiled at her, his eyes filled with a glittering mischief she easily recognized. Dropping her gaze to the front door, she noticed the bolt had been turned, locking them into the store alone.

  Evan held up a brown paper sack as though he’d been out hunting and gathering and bagged an antelope instead of walking a few blocks and ordering a couple of burgers.

  Okay, so he hadn’t disappeared the way he had the other night. Or, not exactly. He had still walked out of Petals without telling her. And taken what was obviously a rather contentious phone call.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Tatum forced her gaze from the bag up to his face.

  “Who were you talking to earlier?”

  The smile disappeared, and Tatum realized it hadn’t been real. Oh, the glimmer of intent and desire had been, but the rest of it was a well-crafted act.

  “Damn, you’re probably so flipping good at your job,” she said before thinking about the consequences of sharing her thoughts.

  His mouth twisted into a frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “If deep cover work ever dries up, you should really try Hollywood. They’d love the hard-edged, scarred, bad-boy vibe you’ve got going.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Look, I’m sorry I walked out and left you with a customer.”

  “I can handle my customers just fine, Evan. I was doing it long before you showed up and I’ll be just fine handling them when you’re gone again.”

  God, she wanted to believe that, but the longer she spent with him the less she did.

  He’d seamlessly inserted himself into her life. Before, the only thing that had gotten her through was that there were no memories in Sweetheart. She didn’t see him every time she went to a movie, grabbed a drink with a friend or walked through her front door.

  Now he’d be everywhere.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Shaking her head, Tatum decided it wasn’t worth arguing over the inevitable. “Nothing. Just, the next time you need to pop out, give me a holler so I don’t leave a customer standing up here for five minutes.”

  She spun away, letting the door to her workroom crash closed behind her.

  But she didn’t get far. Evan smashed through, grasping her elbow and turning her around to face him.

  “Look, Tatum, I apologized. What more do you want from me
?”

  “Nothing, Evan. I don’t want anything from you.”

  Only that was the biggest lie she’d ever told. She wanted everything from him, with him. But she wasn’t going to get it. Better to face reality now than in a few weeks or months when he disappeared again. Or really got killed.

  “Then why are you angry?”

  “I’m not.” Lie two. Or was it twenty?

  He dragged her closer, bringing their bodies flush. “You are,” he whispered silkily. “I just can’t figure out why.”

  “You’re a smart man,” she taunted, “I’m certain you’ll work it out eventually.”

  God, she hoped not. The last thing she needed was for him to realize just how tied up in knots she was right now.

  He stared at her for several charged seconds. His eyes, more brown than green, glistened with suppressed anger of his own.

  Good.

  “The phone call,” he said.

  Tatum jerked her elbow, her frustration—and temper—escalating as he kept a firm grip on her arm. “Give the man a prize.”

  His features softened. The pressing bands of his fingers eased. “It’s nothing, Tatum.”

  “Bullshit, Evan. I know you, and that call was not nothing.”

  “Fair enough. It’s nothing I can tell you about.”

  “Hmm.” She somehow managed to fill the sound with every ounce of sarcasm she possessed. This time when she jerked away, Evan let her go.

  His mouth worked, as if he were chewing on words. Were they words he wanted to say and couldn’t, or words he knew he shouldn’t voice because they’d just piss her off more? Did it matter? Either way, he stayed silent.

  The sound of a hand banging relentlessly on her front door drifted back to them. They didn’t move, though they could both hear the racket. Her door rattled with the force of each blow.

  “Tatum,” a voice hollered. “I know you’re in there. Let me in.”

  10

  SPENDING THE EVENING at the local pub was not how Evan had envisioned his night going. Not that he didn’t appreciate getting to know Tatum’s friends. They were important to her, so they were important to him.

  Lexi’s untimely interruption might have derailed a conversation he hadn’t wanted to have, but it had also killed any chance he’d had to smooth things over with Tatum.

  Hours later, she was still irritated. Oh, to anyone else she looked as if she was having a fabulous time. She might be able to hide the tension she carried from her friends, but not him.

  He understood why she was putting on the front. Apparently, the bride and groom were back from their honeymoon and everyone had gathered at the local pub to share in the glow of their tans and stories about how beautiful their Caribbean resort had been.

  Every man and woman present had managed to throw him a wary, calculating glance, cranking his already taut nerves tighter.

  The phone call he’d received earlier had already set him on edge. A low-ranking member of the cartel who hadn’t been rounded up with the others—because Evan had had barely any contact with the guy—had tripped an alert Evan’s commanding officers had put in place.

  The man had bounced around the country, entering the United States via the Mexican border. He’d taken a damn tour of the Southern states—Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Kentucky, Tennessee, Virginia, and finally showed up in Charleston.

  Too damn close for comfort.

  Every alarm bell he possessed had clanged when he heard the news.

  Evan didn’t believe in coincidences.

  Lock had assured him they had things under control, were tailing the guy 24/7. Waiting for him to step out of line so they could arrest him and bring him in. Unfortunately, Evan hadn’t gathered any evidence against him while in Colombia so they needed something new.

  So far, the guy seemed to be lying low. So why couldn’t Evan shake that itchy, uncomfortable sensation that told him he was being watched?

  Tipping his beer bottle to his lips, he swallowed the last, warm dregs. He’d been nursing the thing all night, unwilling to indulge. He needed his instincts sharp, especially with Tatum close.

  Looking up, he realized there was a good reason the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. He was being watched. Three sets of hard, male eyes were cataloguing his every move.

  The women had naturally separated into a little group. They were sipping pink, fruity drinks. Well, everyone except Tatum. She’d never been the kind for fussy cocktails. She was a wine or whiskey girl. He’d always liked that about her.

  The girls laughed and chatted, the rush of their conversation not registering in his brain. Something about a hammock and giant lizard.

  What mattered to him was that each time he tried to touch Tatum she shifted away. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, not really. She was unfailingly polite, sending him a couple of smiles that never quite connected. Distant. And that distance was slowly driving him mad.

  If they’d been home, alone, he would have cut straight through it by kissing her senseless, but something told him making a scene in front of her friends was not the way to gain back the ground he’d obviously lost this afternoon.

  But that meant he’d been basically left alone with three men he knew nothing about.

  On the surface, he and Gage—apparently the groom—should have had something in common. Someone had quickly pointed out Gage had once been with the Rangers. At the introductions, they’d eyed each other over the lips of their bottles and given a chin nod. It wasn’t as if they could swap war stories or compare scars. Everything they’d both done was probably classified at the highest level.

  The other two men he’d met before, although he’d been a little too preoccupied to get their names. Brett and Dev belonged to Lexi and Willow.

  They’d been sitting together at the small bar table for the better part of an hour, none of them making any effort at small talk. Not that he necessarily needed the welcoming committee, but...

  The way they were watching him said the committee wasn’t anywhere close to being called into duty tonight.

  “You guys married when she was eighteen,” one of them finally said, nodding over to where Tatum sat with her back to him.

  Evan nodded. “Yeah, and I shipped off to basic a couple days later. Things were rough for her, mom sick and dad unemployed. It wasn’t the greatest situation, but I wanted to take care of her the best I could.”

  Gage grunted, sent him a grudging look of respect before burying the look in his own beer bottle.

  “I knew I’d marry her from the time I was about seventeen.” Evan shrugged, the gesture full of the bone-deep acceptance he’d felt even then. “I’ve always loved her.”

  “Jesus, man. That’s...” Brett glanced at the women, his voice trailing off.

  A wicked smile twisted Dev’s lips as his gaze landed on Willow. “I knew Willow when we weren’t much older. Screwed it up, too. Big time. Wish I could get back the years we both missed.”

  Evan picked absently at the wrinkled label around his bottle. “God, I’d give anything to give the last three years back to Tatum.” He couldn’t stop his own eyes from finding her in the tight knot of friends at the high bar table several feet away. “But I can’t do that.”

  The three men glanced at each other and then, in unison, settled back into their chairs. The tension that had filled their tiny table was just...gone. Like that.

  “So, how’d you manage to fuck up?” Gage asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Tatum’s obviously pissed, although she tries really hard not to show it,” Gage said, signaling to their waitress across the bar to bring another round.

  Evan shook his head, but then decided he probably shouldn’t turn his nose up at the friendly gesture. He should have known an ex-Ranger would pick up on the tiny signs.

  Evan’s gut instinct was to pretend everything was fine, even if now it was obvious no one would believe the lie. He had a hard time sharing with Tatum, a woman he loved and had known for o
ver half his life. These men were strangers.

  But they were Tatum’s friends and clearly cared enough about her to be wary and protective. If he was going to stick around and become a part of her life here...

  “We had an argument about a phone call.”

  “Were you talking to another woman?”

  “No, my CO.”

  Brett and Dev threw Gage a look that said, help me understand, dude. Gage simply shrugged.

  “Why would that send her into a tailspin?”

  “She’s worried. Some things I thought had been handled have ended up being more complicated than expected.”

  “Is she in danger?”

  He also should have anticipated that Gage would drill immediately down to the most important question. Evan flashed him a glance full of respect and understanding.

  “No.”

  The other man frowned. “Are you?”

  Evan hesitated. The people around him, people he trusted, were telling him no. But his instincts...they were screaming. But maybe that was just carryover from his time in Colombia. Maybe he was struggling more with settling back into the real world than he’d thought or anticipated.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Gage stared at him, hard, easily reading the meaning behind his hesitation.

  “Man, if you need anything let me know. Tatum’s one of us and we take care of our own.”

  Evan’s pulse throbbed. “I can take care of my wife.”

  “Not saying you can’t, just that if you need backup, it’s here.”

  “Appreciate it, man.” But he had no intention of taking the other man up on his offer.

  Because nothing was going to happen to Tatum. He would not let the stain of his life touch her.

  Everyone let the subject drop. Dev turned the conversation to college football and the domination of the Southeastern Conference. The conversation drifted over Evan’s head and he turned his focus to Tatum.

  Sometime while he’d been bonding with the other men in her life, his wife had gotten up and wandered to the bar.

  Every seat was taken so she’d wedged herself between two men and was leaning across the worn wooden surface talking with the massive guy standing behind the bar. He managed to cock his head in her direction and listen even as he pulled several bottles from the well and mixed a couple of drinks.