Savi blinked. "New names?"
"You can't use your real names, so we've created entirely new identities for you both. To make it easier for Marisol, we just shortened her name to Mari Diaz. Diaz was my mother's maiden name." He sat a little taller. "It means a lot to me for her to carry Mamá's name, even if it's only temporary."
The backs of her eyes began to sting and she cleared her throat. "She'll like knowing she's going to have her grandmother's name."
He grinned. "Don't you want to know your new name?"
"Sure." Her third identity. Anita had helped her get her papers for Savi Baker. Who would she be now?
"Savita Diaz."
Little Savi.
She smiled. "I like it."
Some of what she'd worried most about since making her decision to stay in Denver had been taken care of and she hadn't even had to ask. She'd never had a man take care of her needs before. While she thrived on being autonomous because in the end she only had herself to depend on; still, it felt good to be able to share the responsibility of taking care of Mari.
Fear began to claw at her throat, though, as the real reason for her restlessness tonight surfaced. "Damián, I'm scared."
He pushed his mug aside and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "No one's going to hurt either of you."
As much as her body told her to pull away, she chose to accept his comforting touch. She needed to feel connected, for a little while, at least. "How can you promise that? We've barely let Mari out of our sight since we got here, but sending her to school where we can't keep her safe terrifies me."
He looked away a moment, then back at her. "You have nothing to worry about. I wasn't going to mention this, and don't know why it didn't occur to me that you'd be concerned. Listen, Dad and I were just talking and we're going to have you two on round-the-clock protection. Between Dad, Grant, Marc, and me—and whoever else's help Dad enlists—neither of you will be without a guard."
"Like a prisoner."
"That's what I thought you'd think, but surely you…"
Savi held up her hand to halt his words. "No, I'm sorry. I know this isn't about me feeling hemmed in, it's about protecting Mari. I'm just used to having more freedom. In California, I had Anita and Father Martine as a support net, but still made all my own decisions. I had a job. I could pay my own way." She blinked away the sting in her eyes. "It's not easy for me to accept help without feeling weak."
"Savi, sometimes admitting we can't do it all alone is a sign of strength. I don't know where I'd be if not for Dad and Marc being there for me when I needed them at the darkest point in my life."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He looked down at his coffee mug, and then back at her. "Not really."
Typical man. She smiled. "Well, thank you for taking such good care of us."
Damián sat back in the chair and stared at her a moment until she nearly squirmed in her seat. She didn't like to have a man stare at her.
"Savi, you came to me for help. For protection. Just know that I always take my responsibilities seriously."
Responsibilities. Of course, there could never be anything more between them. She didn't want anything more. Did she? She was too broken to give any man what he needed and wanted from a woman.
But this was the first time her inadequacies bothered her.
Chapter Six
Damián towel dried his leg thoroughly and massaged the stump after getting out of the shower. After two months of limited prosthetic-free time, the skin was getting a little sore. His time in the bathroom—and sometimes at work, when he didn't have to be on his feet—had been the only chances he'd had to get some relief. Slowly he rubbed the skin, wincing at the red spot on the inside of his leg. Pushing the pain away, he let his mind wander.
He still couldn't believe all that had happened since New Year's weekend. Now in the third week of February, life seemed to be going by in a blur, and in other ways the three of them had settled into a routine. Like a family.
Mari was thriving at school where she was finishing up third grade. Savi didn't even seem to mind that the only available option had been public school, but she had put Marisol's name on the wait list for the Catholic one, just in case there was an opening. The Navy Chaplain who had married Dad and Karla had promised to put in a good word for them at his parish's school.
Savi had been looking into what hoops she'd have to jump through with the State of Colorado to get licensed, then to continue to work toward certification, as she'd been doing. He could see how much it bothered her not to be able to help kids deal with their emotional and physical traumas. Her work as a therapist probably had helped her deal with some of her own issues from the past. Problem was, she couldn't produce the credentials she'd earned under her legal name in California, so Colorado wasn't going to even think about allowing her to practice. They'd talked about it and agreed that her need to work took a back seat to their need to protect Savi and Marisol from the bastards who had sent her running in the first place.
Damián had been working at the Harley shop on an as-needed basis, but the repair and maintenance jobs had been steadily increasing since January as the fair-weather riders started thinking about getting their bikes road ready. Apparently, the shop had fallen behind, too, since Damián had been fired last year when he'd run out to California after Teresa's rape. The new man hadn't cut it, so there had been a backlog for a while. The owner knew Damián's mechanical skills were solid, too.
Coming home to Savi and Marisol in the evenings felt right…like having a family again. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed being with Rosa and the kids after moving here. But it was even more special than that. Getting to know his daughter had been a blessing he'd never expected and probably didn't deserve, but was so grateful for.
Getting to know Savi was another matter. The woman was shut down tighter than a gnat's ass. He hadn't pushed her for anything more than what she was comfortable with—co-habitating without benefits. He told himself just having the girls near him was enough, but he'd be lying to say he didn't want more. He wanted to be a real family, with benefits.
Not that Savi would agree. She seemed to be a little down lately. Maybe it was because she couldn't work. He'd known that feeling himself, many times. She had to miss the kids she'd been counseling back at the clinic. He'd talked with Rosa and she said Teresa was doing okay with her new therapist, which lifted Savi's spirits some. Clearly, she was worrying about the kids she'd been working with, too.
Savi had tried to volunteer at Marisol's school, but when the question of a criminal background check came up, she'd withdrawn the request. She hadn't wanted to point her father in their direction, and said he'd probably have access to government record-keeping systems. So, she'd tried to find other things to keep herself busy. Savi wasn't one to be idle, although Karla had given her an old e-reader and she'd been doing a lot of reading lately. He wondered what she read, but when he mentioned it, her face turned eight shades of red. He probably didn't want to know.
He was glad she and Karla had hit it off so well, but was frustrated that Savi was so emotionally distant with him. It might be a pipe dream, but he wanted to rekindle what they'd had at the beach eight years ago. Hell, he'd be happy just to have a simple kiss. Of course, with Marisol sleeping beside Savi every night in his bed, and him sleeping on the couch, there wasn't a whole lot they could do intimately, even if Savi would let him get closer.
What was he thinking? He ought to be thanking Marisol for providing a buffer, because Damián had no business putting the moves on someone like Savi anyway. She deserved a whole man. Until she found one, he'd be her protector and give her shelter, but it could never go any further.
Providing protection had been a concern since January, but Dad had managed to line up a number of former active-duty Marines to provide unobtrusive surveillance for Savi and Marisol when Damián couldn't be there to protect his girls. Of course, Damián knew Dad and his friends took their
watches, too. So far, there'd been no hint that Lyle or her father had traced them here, though.
Savi hadn't had any more flashbacks, not around him, anyway. Maybe she was feeling more secure. He hoped so, happy that the haunted, hunted look he'd seen that first month in her pretty blue eyes had finally gone away. She laughed more, too. Dios, he loved hearing her laugh. She didn't do it often enough. So fucking serious most of the time.
Thank God for the kitten. The playful antics of Boots helped to lighten the mood in the apartment, transforming Savi into a relaxed, happy person for longer stretches of time. Damián just knew not to pick up or touch him, or his allergies got the best of him. He'd only needed to take a pill once. It had made his brain fuzzy and he'd had to call Dad to provide backup until it wore off. Now, one sneeze and he'd back off, content to watch his girls giggle and leave the kitten to them.
Tomorrow he'd turn twenty-eight. Damián had no idea who had tipped Karla off that his birthday was tomorrow—probably Grant or Dad—but she'd insisted on having a party to celebrate. He'd tried to get her to call it off—Friday nights weren't good for most of them because of the club.
Damián hadn't played at the Masters at Arms Club since Savi and Marisol arrived, but Marc, Dad, and Karla needed to be there by seven, so it would have to be an early party tomorrow.
Tonight, Damián and Savi had the apartment to themselves. When Karla mentioned the party to Marisol, she'd screamed and said she wanted to make him a cake. Damián cleared the knot in this throat just thinking about her excitement over doing that for him. So, Karla had taken Marisol over to Marc's tonight, where they and Angelina were preparing for the party. Marisol had insisted on taking Boots along to help, whatever the hell that meant.
His daughter was one of the greatest joys in his life at the moment. Damián's eyes burned when he thought about how fucking blessed he was to have found her, before she got any older. Seeing Dad and Karla looking forward to their new baby, though, he realized he'd missed out on a lot already. He wouldn't miss anything more.
Damián and Savi rarely found themselves alone in the tiny apartment. Here they were alone on a Thursday evening—but in separate rooms. He decided now would be a good time to see if there could be something more with Savi. Hell, he'd been living a celibate life with her for two months. He'd never slept around, but he wasn't a monk, either. Having the woman of his dreams within reach and not being able to touch her was…
The smell of cinnamon and coffee invaded his mental ramblings, and he glanced down at his pinky ring. He sighed and sat on the bed to don his black stump sock and fitted the prosthesis over it, adjusting the fit. Didn't hurt too badly today. He'd try to go without the device more often, maybe while at work, so he didn't wind up with trouble he didn't need.
Damián walked through the apartment into the kitchen and watched as Savi poured two mugs nearly to the brim. Her ass was molded into a tight pair of faded jeans and he fought the urge to walk up behind her and place one hand on each denim-covered cheek, figuring he'd wind up with the contents of the coffeepot poured over him if he tried anything like that. Still, he couldn't keep himself from wanting to touch her.
A tray of cinnamon cookies hot from the oven lay on top of the stove. He'd always loved that smell as a kid.
Walking up beside her, he placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. She grew tense. Ignoring her discomfort, he bent down and gave her a peck on the cheek. Damn, her skin was soft. "You're an angel of mercy. How did you know I needed that?" He wasn't talking about coffee or cookies, either.
Not wanting to send her into a full-blown panic attack, though, he released her and took the mugs to the table, setting them down in fairly close proximity to each other. She followed with two cookies on her saucer and three on his.
He waited for her to sit down, then did the same, close to her. "Any plans for tomorrow?"
Savi moved her chair further away. Still running from him. "I thought maybe I'd do some shopping while Mari's in school."
No fucking way was she going anywhere alone. "Sounds good. I'll tag along. I don't have to be at the bike shop until day after tomorrow. They're waiting for some parts to be delivered."
"No, you can't go with me!"
Why the fuck not?
She blushed and his dick went into overdrive.
"I mean, well…" She took a sip of coffee, but grimaced and pursed her lips to blow into the mug. His dick strained against his jeans, imagining how it would feel to have her lips wrapped around his hard-on.
Cool it, Chico.
Savi avoided his gaze. "I mean, I can't take you with me. I, um, well…"
Spit it out, chica.
She nailed him with her sky-blue eyes. He'd take what he could get. If that's all she'd nail him with, then so be it. For now. "I didn't know it was your birthday 'til yesterday and I need to get you a present."
Now, this could work to his advantage. "You don't have to buy me anything."
"But I want to give you something. You've been so generous to put us up all this time."
Hell, he didn't want her to give him something out of a sense of obligation. "You don't owe me anything. I have a lot of lost time to make up for…with Marisol." He saw the hurt look in her eyes, but didn't want her to give him anything out of guilt, either. "Hey, I didn't say I don't want a present. I just said you didn't have to buy anything." He grinned.
She quirked an eyebrow, then a wary look crossed her face. She sat further back into the straight-backed chair. "What do you mean?"
"Do you want to know what I'd like from you for my birthday?"
If she could press her back any further into the chair, she would have. "What?"
"A kiss."
Her gaze went to his lips, then back to his eyes. "Damián, I'm serious. I want to give you something special, but that's too…personal."
"I'm not talking about a curl-your-toes, take-your-breath-away kiss, unless that's what you'd like."
She shook her head like a scared little bunny in Marisol's cartoon movies, and he grinned, even though he wished she did want that, because he sure as hell did. "I just want to kiss you and have you kiss me back. Mutual give and take. No tongues. No hands below the waist."
Sounded like he was ordering an oil change off the quick-lube menu—top off the fluids, check the air filter, change the oil.
"Neck."
Neck? She wanted to neck? Fuck yeah! He grinned. I'd love to neck."
Her eyes grew wide. "I mean, no hands below the neck."
Damián's spirits deflated a bit. No, wait. It sure sounded like she was agreeing to kiss him, despite having narrowed down the playing field. There was a lot he could do in that region of the face, neck, and shoulders, so the battle wasn't lost yet. "Sounds good to me. I think that would be a fantastic present, Savi."
"When do you want me to give you your…present?"
"Why don't you let me surprise you?"
The wary look returned. Savi didn't like surprises. How fucking sad was that?
Without responding, she lifted her mug to her mouth and took a cautious sip, then a bigger one. She avoided looking at him when she set down the mug. Her lips were wet with coffee and Damián just about leaned over to kiss her then and there.
But anticipation would be good for them both, even if Savi didn't agree. He'd wait for the perfect moment to claim his birthday kiss.
* * *
All day long on Damián's birthday, Savi had been on edge. Every time he came near her, she steeled herself for the kiss she'd promised him. What had possessed her to agree to something as ridiculous as that? Well, that had an easy answer. Money. She didn't have any. What could she possibly buy Damián for his birthday that he'd actually want?
But a kiss? Could she afford the cost that gift would have on her psyche? She'd long ago stopped bartering parts of her body to men.
Damián entered the living room, where she'd been reading the same paragraph over and over for the last half hour. She held her breath. Would he c
laim his kiss now? Her heart drummed in her ears, and she had to remind herself to breathe again. When she looked up, he just grinned at her. The bastard knew the effect he was having on her. Why didn't he just take his damned birthday kiss and stop torturing her?
Instead, he walked into the bedroom, pulling off his shirt as he went, giving her a glimpse of his well-muscled back. She noticed he was limping again, worse than he had when they'd first met. If she asked about it, he'd just say it was nothing. Maybe Marc could take a look at it when they were at his house tonight for the party.
She looked through the doorway into the bedroom. Oh, this was totally ridiculous. Mari would be home in a couple hours and Savi would not let him kiss her in front of their daughter. All she needed was for Mari to think Savi and Damián were going to get married or fulfill some other childish princess fantasy of her daughter's. So not going to happen.
Savi got up from the sofa and walked into the bedroom. Expecting Damián to be in the bathroom getting ready for a shower, she was surprised to find him lying on the bed. Half naked. Luckily, the top half.
He grinned. "I'm ready for my kiss."
Savi's heart stopped, then pounded back to life with a vengeance. No way. Not on the bed.
"Remember, though, querida, you can't put your hands anywhere below my neck, even if you want to touch."
What? If she wanted to touch? She hadn't set the rule to restrict her hand movements, damn it. Her gaze roamed to his bare chest, tracing with her eyes a long silver scar until it curved to his side. The menacing dragon seemed to roar to life across his left pec. Did it just jump at her? His mischievous grin told her he'd intentionally flexed his muscle to make the dragon move.
This room usually was on the chilly side, but Savi's face grew hot. "I don't think…"
"Good. I don't want you to think. I want you to feel." He held out his hand to her.
After searching her mind to find a plan of attack—or retreat—she surrendered and walked over to him, her feet growing heavier with each step.
Nobody's Perfect Page 13
