Linger

by Maya Banks

  ***

  Quiet surrounded her. She was dimly aware of pain, but it seemed muffled and a little fuzzy. It was a welcome change from the way she’d been thrust so rudely into chaos before.

  Her eyelids weighed about two tons, and by sheer force of will she managed to pry them open. Thankfully the room was mostly dark with the only light showing from the hallway. The entire front of her room had windows looking out to the nurses station, and she could see medical personnel bustling back and forth between the station and the other rooms. She must be in ICU. Things must have been bad.

  Slowly she registered her surroundings. Greer sat next to the bed, his head back, eyes closed. On her other side, Taggert sat bent forward in his chair, his head between his hands. He was completely still, and she wasn’t sure if he was also sleeping or just at his wit’s end.

  Guilt hit her hard. While she’d been begging Sean to let her stay, Taggert and Greer had been fighting for her life. Sean was right. She couldn’t give up. They needed her, and she needed them.

  For once the idea that Sean was no longer here didn’t fill her with relentless grief. She felt him as surely as if he were standing at her bedside. He’d made her a promise, and she knew he’d never go back on his word. He’d be there when it was her time. Until then she had a lifetime to look forward to with Taggert and Greer.

  She opened her mouth to call out to Taggert and frowned when absolutely nothing came out. Her throat hurt. Probably had a damn tube shoved down it. She licked her lips and tried again.

  “Taggert.”

  It came out in barely a whisper, but Taggert’s head immediately popped up. So much relief washed over his face. He leaned forward, his hands reaching for her and then he seemed to think better of touching her. He looked down and then back at her almost as if he didn’t have the first clue what to do.

  She smiled and moaned when that simple action sent pain rocketing through her body.

  That woke Greer up. He jolted forward, his feet hitting the floor with a thump.

  “Emmy,” he breathed.

  Taggert scooted his chair to the edge of her bed. He tentatively touched her arm, and her gaze fell down her body, her eyes widening at the bulky bandages decorating her chest.

  “Hi,” she croaked out.

  Taggert smiled, and then his face completely crumbled. Tears shimmered in his dark eyes, and he picked up her hand, pressing it to his cheek.

  “Thank God,” he choked out. “You had us so worried.”

  “We should call the nurse. They’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” Greer said.

  “No, not yet. Please. Just let me lie here for a minute while you two talk to me.”

  Greer took her other hand and rubbed his thumb over her palm.

  “How long have I been here?” she asked.

  Taggert grimaced. “Four days. You were taken here after surgery. I was beginning to think you planned to sleep for the rest of the year.”

  The memory of that gun staring her in the face made her flinch. “Rand?”

  Greer’s face blackened. “Dead.”

  “Oh.”

  She attempted to turn more so she could see Taggert better but quickly abandoned that idea. Hurt too damn much to move.

  “He didn’t shoot you?”

  “No, baby. You took the bullet meant for me,” he said fiercely. “I shot him. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Pity,” she murmured. “Would be nice to see him go to prison for a long time.”

  Greer muttered a few choice words under his breath.

  “Better this way. He’s out of our lives and it’ll save the taxpayers the expense of a trial,” Taggert said with a scowl.

  She smiled. “I knew you’d say something like that.”

  “I’m so pissed at you,” Greer growled.

  She raised one eyebrow. “I know. You sounded mad when you were shouting at me not to die. I didn’t shoot myself, you know.”

  Taggert actually smiled.

  Greer wasn’t smiling, though. “You ever pull a stunt like that again and I swear I’ll tan your ass.”

  “Trust me. Getting shot again isn’t high on my list of priorities.”

  Taggert sobered and gripped her hand a little tighter.

  “I couldn’t let him take someone else I loved from me,” she said softly. “Now will one of you tell me how bad it is? I don’t remember much.”

  Both men scowled.

  “You almost died. You did die,” Greer said bleakly “He shot you in the chest. You lost an enormous amount of blood and the bullet nicked your lung. Damn lucky it missed your heart.”

  “I take it I’m out of the woods now?”

  “No,” Taggert clipped out. “There’s still risk of infection, pneumonia and a whole host of other complications. You’re going to be here a good while, and even when you get to go home, it’s going to be a long recovery.”

  She sighed. “Guess you two will have to hover, huh.”

  “Damn straight,” Greer said.

  She squeezed both their hands with as much strength as she possessed, which wasn’t much. “I’m not going anywhere. Promise. I have it on good authority it’s not my time.”

  “That’s good since we don’t have any intention of letting you go,” Taggert said gruffly.

  “Think you can put up with me for the next fifty years or so?”

  “Fifty years is only the beginning, Emmy.” Greer leaned over and brushed his lips over her forehead. “It’s only the beginning.”

  Taggert touched the inside of her wrist then lifted her hand to kiss each fingertip. “I’m kind of liking the sound of forever.”

  Lightness bubbled even amidst the pain raging through her body. For the first time in a year, her future looked bright and free of the shadows that had haunted her soul.

  Her smiled came easier this time and was missing the agony caused by her wounds. She glanced between the two men and saw some of their worry ease.

  “I can deal with forever.”

  Greer took her lips in a gentle kiss. “We’re going to hold you to that.”

  EPILOGUE

  The delighted squeal of four-year-old Macy, as she bolted from the back porch, put matching smiles on her fathers’ faces. Taggert swung her high into the air before settling her atop his shoulders. Her chubby little hands smacked against his cheeks as she held on for dear life.

  “Hey, short stuff. Your mama still writing?”

  “Uh huh. She’s talking to herself again.”

  Taggert looked at the swing on the porch to see Emily hunched over her guitar, pencil between her teeth and a notepad on her lap. It was a pretty funny sight given the advanced stage of her pregnancy and the fact that her lap wasn’t near what it used to be.

  He swung Macy down then tossed her into the air to Greer who caught her as she screeched in approval.

  “Do it again! Do it again!”

  Greer tucked her under one arm and mounted the steps to the porch. Emily looked up and let the pencil fall from her mouth.

  “You’re back!”

  The welcome in her eyes never failed to turn Taggert’s heart over in a series of somersaults.

  “You must be deep in your writing if you couldn’t hear Macy’s squeals. I’m pretty sure they heard her in Canada,” Taggert said.

  She smiled at the wiggling bundle in Greer’s grasp. “I’m trying to get this song finished today. Words are coming faster than I can get them down.”

  Taggert sat on the swing next to Emily and brushed a kiss across her temple. Then he let his hand slide over the swollen mound of her belly. The baby rolled, causing a ripple in her dress.

  “How is the little one today?”

  She smiled and her entire face lit up as she covered his hand with her own. “He’s good. He’s been up all afternoon. I’m hoping that means he’s getting his days and nights back in order.”

  “God, me too,” Greer muttered. “Would be nice to sleep at night.”

  Emily leveled a s
tare at Greer. “I’m the one he keeps up at night, thank you very much.”

  Taggert chuckled. “And you, in turn, keep us up, thank you very much.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Sorry. It’s hell being eight months pregnant. I figure if I must suffer then so should you.”

  Greer sat in one of the rockers and plopped Macy into his lap. “You hear that, short stuff? Your mama has a mean streak in her.”

  “Daddy mean, Mama nice.”

  Both Greer and Taggert jerked their heads up in surprise at that announcement. Emily had the grace to flush. Then she laughed and made a shushing sound at Macy.

  “You, my dear, have a big mouth.”

  “Ah so Mama has been spreading propaganda,” Greer said with a grin.

  “It’s never too early to teach them the way of things,” Emily said primly.

  Taggert chuckled and pulled Emily into his side. She let the guitar slide forward and propped the end against her leg. A breeze elicited a shiver from her, and she snuggled a little closer.

  He sighed, and it was the sound of a deeply contented man. Life was good. He wasn’t the sort to get all maudlin, but even he had to stop every once in a while and marvel at the gifts he’d been given.

  The rapid bump bump against his side had him looking down.

  “Active little rascal isn’t he?”

  Macy slid from Greer’s lap and crawled onto Taggert’s.

  “His name is Sean,” she pronounced.

  Emily, Taggert and Greer all shared a bittersweet smile. There had never been any doubt that their son would have Sean’s name. Emily had shared the experience she’d had when she’d hovered between life and death in the hospital as she’d lain recovering from the extensive wounds.

  Greer and Taggert both cherished the unselfish gift their brother had given them, and they were eternally grateful to Sean for loving Emily when she’d so needed support.

  “Yes, munchkin, his name is Sean,” Emily said as she reached to pull her daughter onto her lap. “Put your hand here and say hello to your brother.”

  Instead of putting her hand on Emily’s belly, Macy leaned down and smacked her lips noisily against the mound. Emily’s delighted laughter rang out through the air.

  Taggert was enchanted, and Greer was no less so. Yes, life was good. Emily had embraced her singing career though she didn’t keep the hectic tour schedule she had before. There was no longer a reason to stay away from the place she called home.

  Much of her time was spent songwriting. She recorded most, but other artists also picked up her titles. In her most recent venture, she’d released an album of lullabies, all of which she’d written when she was pregnant with Macy.

  Taggert’s favorite times, however, weren’t of hearing her songs on the radio, though his pride knew no bounds over her success. No, the times he cherished the most were when she took her guitar and sang for her family.

  Their songbird had traveled a long, winding road home, but she was here and that was all that mattered.

  DEDICATION

  To Jennifer who is every bit as nitpicky as I am, a fact I am extremely grateful for. This wouldn’t have a chance of being near as good without you.

  Stay With Me

  BY MAYA BANKS

  CHAPTER ONE

  They weren’t coming.

  Catherine Cullen-Wellesley dropped her gaze to the rumpled table napkin in her hand and swallowed against the lump in her throat. Tears burned her lids, and she blinked rapidly to dispel the liquid threat.

  Beside her, the waiter hovered, asking for the fourth time in the last hour if he could get her anything. No, not unless he could hand-deliver her husbands.

  She waved the young man away and brushed defiantly at the corner of her eye. Her trembling lips betrayed her, though.

  How could they have forgotten their anniversary? Again.

  She checked her watch and winced as she realized they were an hour and a half late for their reservation. No, not late. Absent. Just like they’d been absent from every other date she’d arranged in the past several months.

  Each time they promised to be there, swore they’d make it up to her, and each time she was left to wallow in her misery.

  But tonight...tonight was special. Her palm smoothed over her still-flat abdomen, and a sad smile curved her lips. She was going to tell them on the night of their fifth wedding anniversary that she was pregnant.

  Only now she was stuck alone with no one to share the news with.

  Alone. It amazed her that even though she was in a relationship with two men, she’d never felt more alone in her life. At a time when she wanted to feel so much joy, her heart ached with sadness. How could she rejoice in her pregnancy, at impending parenthood, when she couldn’t even be sure that her baby would have a father to rely on?

  Desolation clogged her throat and tightened her airway. She couldn’t breathe around the growing knot. When had she lost hope? Looking back, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt any.

  Placing her palms down on the table, she bolted upward. She motioned impatiently for the waiter to bring her the check. When he presented it to her, the sole item on the receipt a glass of wine she hadn’t drunk because of her pregnancy, she fumbled in her purse for a few bills and dropped them on the table.

  She hurried for the door where the maitre d’ snapped to attention.

  “Shall I summon a cab for you, Mrs. Wellesley?” the older man asked.

  She smiled wanly. “Yes, please.”

  Compassion shone in his eyes before he turned away. She hated that look. Hated the way it made her feel. Forgotten. Negligible.

  A moment later, the doorman escorted her into a waiting taxi and shut the door behind her. She supplied the address to the driver in a shaky voice then sank back against the seat.

  ***

  “This is a goddamn mess,” Logan Wellesley said as he threw his cell phone across his office. After hours of playing phone tag and one botched conference call, nothing had been solved.

  Rhys Cullen made a grim sound of agreement from the doorway. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  Logan eyed his partner and shoved his hands deep into his slacks pockets. He turned to stare over the glittering Manhattan skyline, anger and frustration pounding his temples.

  He turned back to Rhys. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to get on a goddamn plane and fix it.”

  Rhys nodded. “You taking Kingston or Montford?”

  Logan sighed. Catherine wasn’t going to like it. Hell, he didn’t like it. But she’d understand. She always did.

  “I’ll take San Francisco. You fly to Atlanta and pin down Montford. You shove those plans in his face. Once he sees them, there’s no way he can turn down our proposal. I’ll do the same with Kingston. I’m not going to let a year’s worth of planning go down the toilet. We’ve got too much time and money riding on this.”

  Rhys stepped further into Logan’s office as Logan punched the call button for his personal assistant. In a few moments, Paige Stanton made a punctual appearance. He was really going to have to increase her salary. Having to work well into the night was becoming increasingly habitual for her.

  “Yes, sir?” she said primly.

  “Call our pilot and have him ready to depart within the hour. I’ll be traveling to San Francisco. Then I need you to book the first available flight to Atlanta for Rhys.”

  She blinked in surprise. “But sir, have you forgotten?”

  “Forgotten what?” he barked. He didn’t have time to play guessing games. Not when his company was on the brink of the ultimate success. Or failure.

  Her lips drew together in a disapproving line. “You and Mr. Cullen are supposed to be flying to Jamaica tomorrow. With Mrs. Wellesley.”

  “That’s Mrs. Cullen-Wellesley,” Rhys said mildly.

  Logan’s chest tightened, and a dread he couldn’t quite dispel settled over him. He exchanged glances with Rhys but couldn’
t read into Rhys’ expression.

  “The trip will have to be postponed. Something has come up.”

  “Doesn’t it always,” Paige murmured.

  Logan stared, sure he hadn’t heard her correctly. Maybe he’d rethink that pay raise. He decided to ignore whatever it was his assistant had muttered under her breath.

  “Get the flight arrangements made. Now. Report back as soon as you have.”

  Paige turned and walked briskly from the office.

  “Cat’s going to be disappointed,” Rhys said softly.

  Logan closed his eyes. “I know. It can’t be helped, though. We can’t turn our backs on this. We can reschedule. We’ll take her wherever she wants to go just as soon as we get the lockdown on this new hotel.”

  “I’ll call her,” Rhys said, reaching for the phone.

  “I’ll call her from the car,” Logan said. They didn’t have time to spare, and if he was honest, he knew he didn’t want to face Catherine right now, even over the phone. If he allowed himself to think too long about her, he’d say to hell with the hotel and get on the plane with her to Jamaica.

  “Call our driver instead. Tell him to be out front in ten minutes. We can ride together to the airport.”

  As Rhys picked up the phone, Logan looked up to see Paige return.

  “Your pilot is filing flight plans as we speak and will have the jet fueled and ready when you arrive at LaGuardia. I booked Mr. Cullen on a ten-thirty flight. You’ll need to get moving if you’re going to make it on time.”

  Logan nodded approvingly. Paige turned to go, but he called her back.

  “You need something else, sir?”

  He swallowed. “I’d like for you to call Catherine tomorrow. See if there’s anything she needs.”

  Annoyance flashed in Paige’s eyes. “Of course, sir.”

  ***

  Catherine let herself into the apartment and kicked off her shoes before trailing across the living room toward the balcony. She was already packed for their trip, so she had nothing else to do with her evening except wait for them to come home.