by Debra Webb
Chapter Seventeen
Chicago, Friday, July 1, 9:00 p.m.
Hazel’s was packed. Among the throng, Linc waved to the bartender for another round. Nearly forty-eight hours and he hadn’t heard from Lori. He shouldn’t have hoped to, much less expected to. Evidently, he was human after all.
The bartender delivered the triple shot of bourbon and Linc knocked it back. That was enough. Walking those three blocks home was still possible. Barely.
“You’re getting soft, Reece.”
Linc looked up to find his former boss climbing onto the stool next to him. He placed a small box on the counter and pushed it toward Linc.
“Your personal belongings from the office.” Keaton shrugged. “Not that there was that much.”
“Thanks.” Linc didn’t bother mentioning that his effort had been wasted.
“So,” Keaton continued, “you’re off tomorrow.”
Linc considered ordering just one more drink, except that would be a mistake. “First thing in the a.m.”
“I hate to lose you, but I can appreciate your need to move forward.”
Linc had to laugh. “Actually, I’m moving backward.”
Keaton waited for him to go on. He had accepted Linc’s resignation without the usual notice. Linc appreciated that his former boss had turned out to be a stand-up guy. His help in taking down Marcos had been invaluable.
“Back to L.A.,” Keaton acknowledged. “Perhaps, in time, you’ll find that the move is forward after all.”
Linc wasn’t going to debate the issue. He was going back. To open the house. Take some time to figure out what he wanted to do next.
And wait for her to come back to him. Probably wishful thinking but he couldn’t not do it. He still loved her as much as the day they’d married. That wasn’t going to change this side of the grave.
“Call if you need a recommendation or anything else.” Keaton stood. “Take care of yourself.” He clapped Linc on the back and disappeared into the rowdy crowd.
Linc stared at the box. He couldn’t just leave it sitting there. Pulling it closer, he looked inside at a pocket-size flashlight and a couple of unopened letters. He rolled his eyes. Keaton had definitely wasted his time. After tucking the mini flashlight into his pocket, Linc picked up the two letters. The first was junk mail from a spy equipment company. The other was a medium-size padded envelope from Mort, dated the day he’d died.
Linc’s blood ran cold, then abruptly boiled. He could care less what the bastard had to say…especially from the grave.
He ordered another drink.
By the time he’d finished off the absolutely last drink he intended to have, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He ripped open the envelope and removed a single sheet of plain white printer paper. Mort’s small, slanted handwriting filled the page.
Linc,
Yeah, I know. If I weren’t already dead you’d kill me. I don’t blame you. What I did was unforgivable. No question about that. Anyway, I didn’t write this letter to ask for your absolution. I did it for the money. Marcos needed my help and I sold it to him. I was burned out, in debt up to my eyeballs and feeling cheated by the system. You were young and had your whole life ahead of you. Lori wasn’t expected to live. You were going to lose her anyway.
Once I’d crossed that line I couldn’t take it back. I facilitated the bastard. Sent him the photos after you left and took care of all official records related to Lori. But you likely know all that by now. What you probably don’t know is why Marcos wanted Lori. A young woman was on the yacht that day, Olivia Lopez. We all had her pegged as one of Marcos’s women but we were wrong. As it turns out, he had a brother and this was his daughter. Because Marcos blamed himself for her death, he decided to take Lori from you. He gave her to his brother’s wife to help her get past her only child’s death.
What I did was unspeakable but that’s not why I’ve cleaned my weapon and will soon be using it one last time. I have terminal cancer. With our conversation, I completed getting things in order, so to speak. Now I’m ready to go. I don’t want to put my family through the pain or financial burden. Plus, I’m a coward. I haven’t been a hero in a long time. Funny thing, I did hang on to a couple of items just in case. You’ll find those enclosed. Good luck, buddy. I hope you nail the bastard.
Mort
Linc dropped the letter, his gut in knots, and pawed inside the envelope. He withdrew a small bag—an evidence bag. Inside was a clipping of brown hair and an ID card with photo and fingerprints.
Lorraine Reece.
Linc’s hands shook as he smoothed the plastic so he could see more clearly. His pulse skipped. Lori’s department ID card and a lock of her hair.
He smiled. This was all he needed to convince her that there was no doubt. She was his wife and she should come back to him.
No. He couldn’t do that. When and if Lori wanted to be his wife again, she had to make that decision.
Linc had waited this long. He could wait forever if that was what it took.
Los Angeles, Sunday, July 17, 2:00 p.m.
MIA PAID THE TAXI DRIVER and thanked him. As he drove away, she stared up at the lovely old Victorian home. Two stories, with a broad, spacious wraparound porch. It was awesome. She might not remember but she knew she would have picked this house. She loved the two palm trees that adorned the yard, and the array of blooming plants.
She shifted the strap of her bag, clutched her purse to her chest and strode up the sidewalk to the porch. A gasp escaped her as she stood there staring upward. “Ceiling fans.” There were two on the grand porch. Comfortable chairs and a well-worn hammock provided leisurely seating.
She absolutely loved it and she hadn’t even been inside yet.
Mia took a deep breath and knocked on the door. She had been surprised when Mr. Keaton had told her that Linc had moved back to L.A. Then she’d gotten excited. This was perfect. She hoped he was home because she hadn’t warned him she was coming.
A frown worried her brow when he didn’t answer. Dang it. Then she noticed the doorbell and pressed it. Maybe he hadn’t heard her knocking.
He had to be here.
Nineteen days with no contact. She had spent sixteen of those days at the recovery center the Colbys had recommended. With the help of the amazing people there she had come to a balanced decision about her future. It was time to put those decisions into action. She had packed up her things and put her bungalow in Blossom on the market. There were goodbyes that needed to be said and she’d said them. Now for the next step.
The door opened and he stood before her wearing the same kind of low-slung, faded jeans he always wore. She wasn’t surprised that he was barefoot and shirtless. This was L.A. Casual was a religion.
“Hey.”
That one word was all it took to make her heart flutter. She loved the husky sound of his voice. Loved his broad shoulders, that muscled chest and those lean hips. His eyes…his lips…his hair. Everything. She had dreamed of him every night.
She smiled. “Hey, to you.”
He stepped back, opened the beautiful leaded-glass door wider. “Come in.”
Mia crossed the threshold. Her senses went into overdrive. She couldn’t take it all in. The man, the house. She turned around slowly in the center of the entry hall. This was home. Her gaze settled on Lincoln Reece. He was home.
“I want to see the rest.” She let the bag drop to the floor and tossed her purse atop it.
Those deep, deep blue eyes lit with hope. He offered his hand. “Come on.”
She put her hand in his and lost herself to his stories of how they’d found the house, renovated and decorated each room. Then they sat on the floor and spent hours going through boxes of photo albums.
And there it was…her life. Their life.
Linc closed the final album. “I have a few more boxes of framed photos to unpack.”
“The house is awesome.” She turned to him, couldn’t get enough of looking at him. “You did g
ood.”
He shook his head. “You did good.” He pointed to the ceiling and then the walls. “You saw the before pictures. I would’ve walked away from the place. You had the vision.”
“You have a point there,” she agreed. The place had been a wreck. “Looks like we pulled it off together.”
Silence lapsed comfortably between them. Mia closed her eyes and absorbed the pleasant vibes.
“The house is yours if you’re ready to live here.”
Mia opened her eyes, startled by his announcement.
“I had an inspector check all the mechanical systems and took care of any needed maintenance.”
He spoke as if whatever she decided was fine by him, but that wasn’t what she saw in his eyes. “What about you?” she asked. “Isn’t this your house, too? Don’t you want to stay?” She held her breath, prayed he hadn’t given up and changed his mind.
That sadness she’d seen in his eyes the last time they were together made an appearance. “I want to stay.”
A smile trembled across her lips. “Good. Because I want you to stay. This is our home.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered. When he touched her nothing else mattered. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.” She took his hand in hers. “I know this was my life. I don’t need any confirmation. This was our life and I want it back.”
He reached up, caressed her cheek. “I want you back.” The hope was back in his eyes. “I have proof now. A lock of your hair and your prints. Mort had been sitting on them all this time.”
Mia leaned forward and kissed his waiting lips. “That’s good but I don’t need any additional evidence.” She kissed him again. The taste of him made her want so much more. He had wanted to kiss her, too. She’d seen the desire in his eyes, but he’d waited for her to make the first move. She showed him with her lips just how much she wanted him. Let him feel the immensity of her desire to become intimately familiar with every part of him again. And again.
He was the one to slow things down, his breath as ragged as hers. “We don’t have to be in a hurry,” he murmured against her lips.
“There’s just one part that’s going to take some time,” she murmured back. “Getting used to my real name.” She had come to terms with returning to her birth name—the one that had been stolen from her. But it wouldn’t be easy. She nipped his lip with her teeth. “But this—” she lavished the spot she’d teased with her tongue “—is like riding a bicycle. It comes back naturally.”
“Excellent point.” He started a path of slow, hot kisses down her throat.
She hung her arms around his neck, pulled him down to the floor and smiled up at him. “Let’s make some memories.”
Epilogue
Three months later
At sunrise the beach was deserted. The air was crisp and the ocean crashed against the rocks and sand like music set to accompany the glorious sunrise.
Linc held Lori’s hands in his. She wore a gauzy, thin white dress with a necklace of pink flowers, just like the last time. He wore the same suit, the one she’d picked out. Navy to match the color of his eyes. The white shirt was a vivid contrast to the dark jacket, as was the single red rose tucked into his lapel.
He stared into her eyes and repeated the vows they had taken nine years ago. “To love and to cherish.” He grinned. “Now and forever.” He’d decided to change that last part. They’d already done the “until death do us part” thing.
Lori laughed, the sound like sweet bells tinkling with the wash of the tide. She recited her vows, finishing with the same words he had used.
They kissed while the water swayed back and forth over their bare feet. The sand worked between his toes and made him smile against her lips. She laughed some more and he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up against his chest.
“I love you, Mrs. Reece.”
She kissed his nose. “I love you, Mr. Reece.”
Two months ago she had started thinking of herself as Lori. She’d made her mark on the house. Moving pictures he had hung in the wrong places, she’d teased. Changing curtains and bedding she’d insisted were out of date.
“I’m hungry.”
Linc whirled her around. She squealed. “We’ll just have to do something about that.”
“Good.” She scooted out of his arms and righted her dress. “Because you’re going to need plenty of energy.” She winked and flitted toward the car.
He followed more slowly, content to watch her dance across the sand.
The first years of their life together were lost to her, but every day he reminded her with the photos and mementos of that time. Not one minute of this second chance would be taken for granted.
“Hurry, Linc!” She waved frantically from the passenger window.
He made sure that every day was filled with new memories.
They had a new plan, only this time they called it a nine-month plan instead of a five-year plan. Lori wanted a baby. Linc wanted at least two.
He climbed into the car and gave her a quick kiss.
She leaned over the console and kissed him hard. “Let’s forget the food.” She tugged at the top button of his shirt. “I want to make a baby.”
Linc really liked this new plan.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0600-7
BROKEN
Copyright © 2011 by Debra Webb
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*Colby Agency
‡‡The Equalizers
††Colby Agency: Elite Reconnaissance Division
**Colby Agency: Under Siege
‡Colby Agency: Merger
†Colby Agency: Christmas Miracles
@Colby Agency: The New Equalizers
