by J. L. Drake
“Frank, get out,” he jokes as we pull into traffic. Poor Frank just shakes his head and turns up the radio.
“I love you, Cole,” I whisper, nuzzling into his neck and seeking his comfort.
“Is that so?”
I kiss my favorite spot along his jawline. “It is.” I doze off and savor the fact that I’m finished with my part of the court proceedings.
I manage to get a little sleep on the plane as Cole rubs soothing circles over our little Fritter, relaxing my sore muscles as I think about my mother and what she’d think about this entire situation. The only upside to her not being here is she can’t be affected by any of this. I only hope she can see I love someone who loves me as much I do him.
I wiggle my fingers, moving the heavy diamond and relishing its feeling and what it represents. Cole lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the ring; he is so tuned to my thoughts.
“Cole?” I turn to look up at him. “I want to go home.”
“That’s where we’re headed.” He brushes my hair off my face.
“No,” I shake my head, “I want to come home.”
His eyes sparkle as his finger traces along my brow, down my cheekbone, and stops at my lips. “Yeah, baby, let’s go home.” He leans down, sealing his mouth over mine and our words into a promise. I doze off again, comforted by the warmth of his hand on my thigh.
The North Dakota airport is quiet. There are very few people around, as it’s the middle of the night. I’m not looking forward to the long drive home, but I know I won’t have to return to Washington for a very long time. If ever.
As we step outside into the fresh air, my fingers slip on the strap, and I drop my bag, tripping over it and nearly falling flat on my face. Cole catches me in time and tugs me close to him. He checks me over, hands everywhere. I bat them away and tell him to stop fussing. I laugh when he starts in harder, clearly making fun of the situation. He suddenly pulls me in for a kiss, chuckling while his tongue plays with mine. A gust of wind whips my hair wildly around my face.
We both freeze as we hear his voice.
Chapter Eleven
“Savannah.” A chill rips through me, tearing a hole in my armor and turning me into a quivering mass. My senses lock onto the .40 caliber pointed directly at me.
Though his face is shaded by a hat, I see the sweat dripping from his brow. A drop lands on his lip then is blown away by his rapid breathing. At first glance, he looks all business. One wouldn’t think he’d be carrying a weapon into an airport. I now know his look, and this will end in one of two ways. Either one, I lose.
Everything grows quiet, even though chaos whirls around us. Time seems to stand still. I can only hear the mad beating of my own heart. I should have known better than to think I could ever be truly free. In slow motion, I look to Cole and say a silent goodbye. I want to cry, but I can’t seem to find the emotion. It’s lost like the rest of my life. “I love you,” I mouth.
The gun is steady. He has complete control, and his eyes have never left my face.
Suddenly, Keith and Mark both appear out of nowhere, weapons drawn.
“No,” Cole whispers. His grip tightens around my fingers.
The gun lowers to my stomach before he speaks. “The one woman I truly loved, you took from me. You have always been in the way. Enough is enough, Savannah.” His bitter words cut through me.
Mark shifts closer to my side, muttering something to Cole, but I can’t understand them.
“Dad?” I try to sound in control. I pull my hand out of Cole’s death grip. I have no idea what to say, so I go with the first thing that comes to mind. “Can I ask you one thing, please?” I take a shaky step forward. The hot, heavy tears pooling in my eyes blur my vision. I hear the sound of guns shifting in the hands of those who are now surrounding us. “Do you remember the year we went up to northern Canada for Christmas? The year before Mom found out she was sick?” He nods, clearly annoyed by this trip down memory lane. “It was around eight at night when the power went out.”
“Six,” he corrects me, flipping the gun for me to hurry up.
“The temperature dropped, and we all huddled by the fire, not caring because we had our tree, the heat, and hot chocolate.”
He rubs his head and mutters, “What’s your point?”
I swallow hard, forcing my emotions back and taking another step closer. Where this bravery is coming from, I don’t know. Maybe my mother is here, or maybe I’m just losing it.
“Savannah, stop,” Cole warns behind me, but I hear him tell the other men to stand back too.
The gun is closer now. I can smell the steel. “Did you love me then?” I hold his gaze and see a tiny flicker in his eyes. His gun wavers a bit, then he points it directly in my face and pulls the trigger.
No.
Pop! Pop! Pop! I’m blinded and falling hard. The breath is knocked out of me as I’m covered with heavy bodies.
I wake to semi-darkness. It takes me a moment to see I’m in Cole’s bed, and he’s standing in front of the fireplace watching the flames and sipping brandy. He’s only in a pair of pajama pants, his bare chest reflecting orange from the fire. He looks so tall and powerful the way his muscles flex, casting shadows. His head presses into his hand gripping the mantel.
I slip out of bed, move behind him, and run my hands along his warm back, feeling him jump then immediately relax. “Hey,” I whisper against his skin, giving him a little kiss, “everything all right?”
“No,” he mutters, downing the rest of his brandy. He puts the glass on the mantel and turns in one swift movement to face me, holding my head in his hands. His eyes are dark; I can see he’s fighting to hold himself together. One hand moves to my hair, entangling his fingers and getting a good grip, while he leans forward and rests his forehead to mine, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t do this again. I can’t have you leave me. I need you, Savannah. I need you to be mine.” His words seem painful.
“I am yours,” I whisper.
His eyes suddenly pop open.
“Marry me now.”
“Now? Cole, it’s the middle of the night.”
“Then tomorrow.” He sounds frantic. “I promise I’ll give you a fancy wedding later, just marry me.”
I lean forward and press my hands over his chest. “Cole, I love you more than the earth needs the sun, but nothing in my life has ever been in my control. Ever. I want to stress about the food, the flowers, and the music, all that ridiculous wedding stuff. Because it will be normal—my normal—and I need normal.” I walk my fingers up his chest. “Please understand how much I need this, how much I want it.”
I can see his internal battle flickering through his eyes. His tongue runs over his bottom lip, the moisture on them catching the flicker of the flames.
“If stressing over food, flowers, and music makes you get your normal, then I’ll wait,” he says quietly. I’m pleased he hears me, but I can see something is still weighing on him.
I start to say more, but he picks me up, laying me back down on the bed. I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he lies down next to me, resting his head on my chest, his hand on my tummy. We stay like that for a long time, my fingers combing through his dark, silky hair. The only noise is the soothing sound of the fire. Just as I’m about to fall asleep, he speaks in a quiet, raspy voice.
“Tonight did things to me, Savannah.” He draws a small square pattern along my belly. “Even though we got him, he did pull the trigger.” He clears his throat. “Images flash before my eyes.”
Blinking away tears, I still can’t believe my father pulled a gun on me, let alone actually pulled the trigger. I know why he did it, I know why the gun wasn’t loaded. He was too much of a coward to kill himself, so he made others do it. If he had really wanted to kill me, he’d never do it at an airport with so much security around. My father is—was—a selfish, dangerous man who never thought of anyone but himself.
“I’ve always been in control of my life,” Cole continues. “Since I’ve m
et you, though, I’ve been tested. I need it to feel right again, so bear with me, because I’m going to be an overprotective husband and father. Give me time to work through these issues, all right?”
I lean down, kissing his hair like he always does mine. “I understand.”
He kisses my belly then shifts so he’s up on his pillow. “I need to hold you.” I roll into him, tucking my head under his neck. I can feel his body battling with itself to work through what he witnessed tonight.
“Cole?”
“Mmm,” he answers like he’s a million miles away.
“How did my father find us at the airport?”
He waits for a beat. “Mark checked with the airline. Looks like he followed us from the courthouse. He was on the same plane.”
“How did he get a gun through security?”
Cole shakes his head. “They have footage of him retrieving it from a locker. He paid someone to leave it there. Mark found the man. He’s just some lowlife looking to make a quick buck. He’s been arrested, and he’ll get a little time.”
“Oh.” I shudder, pushing the thought out of my head. He’s gone, and that’s all that matters now.
“You’re safe now, baby.” He pulls me tighter, lowering his voice and lacing it with a dark undertone. “No one will ever hurt you again. I promise you that.”
I don’t doubt his words, and for once I allow myself to believe I’m going to be okay. I keep quiet after that, falling asleep to the even sounds of his heartbeat.
Chapter Twelve
Mark
“Son of a bitch!” Paul slams five twenties in front of Mark. With his teeth, he pulls the marker cap off and grins around it while he crosses off yet another day on the Logan Arrival Calendar.
Savannah covers the sides of her stomach. “At least warn me to earmuff it, Paul.”
“My apologies to the fetus,” he grumbles as he stomps out.
She laughs as she eases her tired-looking body onto the couch and pats the side of the fish tank as a hello to Aloof. Scoot and the fish have formed an interesting friendship, one that keeps the moody little brat busy for hours. But Mark can tell Savi is worried about Cole being home for the birth. He was called to Washington for an emergency, but Frank promised they would be gone for four days, tops. Savannah nearly had to drug him to get him to go, though she still isn’t due for three and a half weeks. She’s so great about not getting in the way of his job, even if it means he’s cutting it close with the birth.
Mark removes her heels for her but holds one up with a look. “Really? This is when you can wear flat shoes and no one would ever notice, Savannah.”
“Don’t even suggest wearing Crocs.”
His head snaps back. “Ahh, no. I hate those things.” He really does. Let’s make our feet look like cartoon characters. Oh! Oh, and let’s add more shit to them with pictures on pegs…yeah, that’s sexy, people.
She lets out a sigh. “Have you ever felt like your pelvic bone was smooshed and pummeled by a hammer over and over again? Because that’s what’s happening in,” she gestures around her private parts, “here, all day long.”
He leans back and crosses his legs. “No, I can’t say I have, Savannah.”
She tosses a pillow at him. “I’ll pay you to scare this runt right out of me.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll just wait until the twenty-fifth.” He points to where the calendar says Baby’s Due—Mark.
Her face falls, but she chases the bad thought away. He knows his prediction makes her nervous, considering it’s in two days.
She peeks up at him. “I want cookie dough.”
“Cookie dough?” Keith stops as he’s walking by, a glimmer of hope spreading across his face. “Are you making cookies?” He comes closer. “The ones with the gooey middle and chocolate shavings sprinkled on top?”
She rolls her eyes and sticks out her hand. “Can you help me stand?”
Mark reaches for her but stops. “Will you make us cookies?”
Her mouth drops open. “I’m nine months pregnant, and you want me to make cookies?”
Keith joins Mark’s side as he stands. They look at one another, knowing what has to be said. “Yes, but only if you don’t tell Cole.”
She thinks for a moment before she crosses her skinny arms over her bump. Her face suddenly lights up, and Mark sees her evil side surface. “Only if you do it.”
“I’m out.” Keith tries to leave, but Mark grabs his shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut but turns back around.
“Warm cookies, Keith. How long has it been?”
“Three months, two days.”
She’s smiling because she knows she has them by the balls.
“Fine.” Mark clears his throat and avoids eye contact with Keith. How she ever got them to agree to this is beyond him. He knows he has the first part, then Keith will come in on the third bar. Savannah starts to hum the tune to The Beatles’ Let It Be. Once they start, she goes quiet and holds her hands over her mouth. Her eyes widen and glisten as her cheeks grow pink with happiness.
That right there is why they’re doing this—because they truly make her happy, and making Savannah laugh is their job as the brothers.
Mark can’t help but notice Keith’s hands resting on his hips that swing a bit, and his head moves to the beat. Concerned the dude is going to outshine me, Mark sings a little louder, and when Keith looks over, Mark nods at his hands. He drops them with a curse.
“Yay!” She claps when they finish. “Great job, guys.”
They stare when she makes zero attempt to move. Don’t even think of it! She rolls her eyes and extends her hand to Mark again. He pulls her to her feet, turns her toward the kitchen, and gives her a slight push.
Once she’s out of sight, Keith points a finger at Mark. “No one better have heard that.”
“What, your cute duet?” John grins from the entryway.
Fuck me.
He steps into the room, waving his phone around. “You two sounded like a warm breeze winding through a sleepy forest. Just perfection.” He chuckles but makes a hasty retreat as Keith leaps over the couch and chases him upstairs.
“This will make a great ringtone.”
“Boys!” Abigail scowls when she finds Mark a moment later. Her hands go to her hips. “Marcus Lopez, what is all the yelling for?”
“Keith is—”
“Don’t be blaming Keith for this. I heard you laugh. You’re part of this. Now, why is Savi in the kitchen?”
Mark shakes his head after he curses Keith out in his head. “She’s making us cookies.” Her eyes narrow at him. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh?”
“No, we made a deal. We did our part, and now she’s doing hers.”
“She’s about to pop!”
“Yes, but—” Savannah appears in the doorway with a smile, licking a cookie-battered spoon.
“That poor girl!”
Savannah immediately drops her expression to look sad and nods pathetically.
Oh, she’s going for it.
Abigail rubs her brow as her eyebrows pinch together. “You boys and your tummies.” She lets out a long sigh. “You better make this up to her.”
Savannah disappears and returns holding a newspaper. “You could take me to the movies tomorrow.”
Seriously?
“Now, that sounds like a sweet idea.” Abigail wraps her arm around Savannah. “I bet getting out of the house would be fun.”
The two of them grin at Mark, but Savannah’s smile has an extra twinkle.
“Fine!” He damn near stomps his foot at them.
“Keith too!” Savannah ads before she fist-pumps in the air and heads back into the kitchen.
“When does Cole come back?” Mark mutters as he heads down the stairs to work on his project.
After he checks that the coast is clear, he punches in the code to one of the spare rooms and slips inside.
“How’s it goin’?” he calls out
to Paul, who is covered in green paint.
“Good. Just finished the front and about to do the sides.”
The paint looks great on the puppet show stand. All the guys decided to make the ultimate playroom for the little Fritter. It’s been a bit of a challenge since they don’t know the sex, but they’re making sure to cover all the bases.
So far, they have a puppet show stage in one corner, nuzzled into a forest that goes around the wall to a swing in the other corner where it hangs from an extended tree branch. Star lights adorn the ceiling, camouflaging the speakers that presently play nature sounds. The giant teddy bear standing by the door was Keith’s idea. He insisted they get it—something about how he used to have one.
They all got our ideas in. Mark’s was the treehouse built into the wall, swinging ropes, a slide, a telescope, and the best part, the walls on the inside are made of Lego plates so the baby can build masterpieces. Of course, he will help. Win-win!
He climbs inside and hoists the treasure chest into place.
“What’s in there?” John asks through one of the windows.
Mark flips over the lid and shows him the million pieces of Legos.
His face lights up. “Awesome, man!”
“I know!”
Cole
Frank’s mouth is moving, but nothing registers. Cole’s mind is on Savannah. He hates he was called out, but he promised Frank he would help him with this last case before he took some time off for the baby.
“So, according to Agent Craig, the last time our target was spotted was in the Federal District of Mexico City. You want to send in Blackstone? Or use another unit?”
Frank clears his throat when Cole doesn’t respond right away. His words catch up to him as he glances over at him. “Another unit.” Cole knows he can’t risk being so far away from Savi this close to the due date.
Frank leans back and opens a drawer. “I’ll get the details out, set up the op, and you, my friend, after we go have a drink, will leave tomorrow morning at zero-six-hundred hours to get back to your family.”
