Sarcastic Sarah. Again, not expected. “I didn’t mean…” God. Could he really not form coherent thoughts around her?
She studied him then tilted her head to the side, slowly twirling the pen. “I’m looking for a job.”
“A job?”
“You know, what people do to make money? Not everyone kills and maims in order to put food on the table.”
He deserved that one. Time was ticking, and he had no response. “I’ve missed you like crazy, angel.”
Angel had just popped out. It was natural, more than saying her name, but maybe not appropriate. Too bad. She had always been his angel. Nothing had changed for him.
Her bottom lip quivered until she thinned it into a line. Sarah twirled the pen again and studied the paper. “Here’s one for a preschool teacher.” Her voice waivered. “I’d be perfect for that.”
He took a step closer, and his arms ached to hold his wife. “Yeah, you would.”
“How would you know, Brock?” Her chin jutted up, her eyes watery and wounded. “We don’t know each other.”
“You don’t mean that.” He pulled the chair out next to her. So close, but he wouldn’t touch her. He shouldn’t. No matter how badly he craved her. “I need to explain things to you. Be upfront whereas before I was… vague.”
“Vague? Vague wasn’t my problem.”
“I didn’t know what to do. I messed up. Bad. But it was like my world went black when you all were taken. I couldn’t think. Nothing was logical. It was all survive and react.”
“I never knew how close our family was to danger. Brock, you almost had another woman killed. That’s not an environment I want to raise our children in.”
She was concerned about Sugar? He wanted to shake Sarah. So what? God love Sugar. But he loved his family. His wife. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t sacrifice to return them to safety. “Sugar is not your problem. And I know, from the bottom of my soul, you wouldn’t care what I did if it protected Jess and Kelly. Let’s boil it down to basics. Bad things happened, and I was the cause.”
She looked away, and tears streamed over her cheeks. “I can’t talk about this. I can’t even breathe thinking about it.”
He needed to wipe them away. Needed to make her hurt dissipate. But he didn’t know the rules right now. Couldn’t risk scaring her. “I take the blame for all of this. Things should’ve been different before you were taken.” Guilt exploded in his gut. He threaded his fingers into his hair. “I would’ve done anything to bring you girls home safe. You can’t see that, and I can’t explain that. So just know I did what I thought was best while I was out of my mind.”
She sniffled, wiping away the waterworks. “I’m not sure what to think.”
The minutes were clicking by, and he hadn’t said anything worth a damn. “I want my wife back. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you feel safe again.” It was rushed. Not eloquent, but there it was. The truth.
Her eyes locked on his, the look caressing him down to his soul. What he wouldn’t do to kiss her right now. That was how he always felt about her. Especially when he came off the job. He needed her touch. Her kiss. Salve to the wounds she couldn’t see.
Shutting her eyes, she licked her lips and refocused on him. “Three minutes are up. I think you should go.”
His heart sank deep in the murky waters of abandonment. “Angel—”
“I can’t do this. I can’t risk the girls again.”
“I can make this better. Safer. Don’t take my girls from me.” His voice cracked. Time was up; he needed a last plea. “Don’t walk away. Not from us.”
She shook her head, and he tried to remember everything Mia Winters had told him when she’d shown up shortly after her husband had left, touting her therapist card. That Sarah probably felt victimized. That she didn’t understand her own feelings yet, that she needed to place blame and have an outlet. That shutting down and barricading herself were self-preservation mechanisms.
Thank God his buddy’s wife was a psychologist with a major case of two-cent-itis, because Brock hadn’t thought past his own feelings. He’d been content to wallow and drink.
“I love you. And I love our girls.” Against all of Mia’s advice, he pulled an envelope from his back pocket and slid it on top of the newspaper. “If they’re okay to stay with your mom for a little bit, maybe you can take a chance with me, focus on rebuilding our family again. Rebuilding us.”
Sarah rubbed the corner of the envelope. “What do you mean? What’s in here?”
“Airplane tickets.”
“Airplane tickets?” She yanked her hand back like the envelope had bitten her. “Why? To where?”
“A private island in the Caribbean.” He took her hand, enveloping it between his palms. Her arm stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. “We can, ya know, focus on you and me. We’ll hash everything out in a neutral setting. Reconnect.” Neutral, reconnect. Two buzz words Mia had used over and over.
“I don’t want to reconnect.”
This was the best idea he had. His go-big-or-go-home strategy, and it’d taken a lot of help from Mia. There might be simpler ways to rebuild their life other than jet-setting to a tropical getaway, but this was the one that worked best in his head. Mia said the idea was too big, and maybe he should’ve listened. Maybe he should listen to anyone but himself where his family was concerned, because his choices weren’t working.
Brock pressed her hand in his grip, unwilling to let go and give up. “I talked to, um, somebody. A therapist. Mia Winters. She works with Titan sometimes and said this idea was too much. Too bold or aggressive. But why hold back? I’ve got nothing left to lose.”
Sarah’s bottom lip dropped open. “A therapist?”
“She also said there was stuff we could do. Talk about. Think about. Do, to work shit out.” Why did talking to someone make him feel like a pussy? Such an awkward conversation, with Mia, and now Sarah. But screw it, whatever it took. He brought her knuckles to his chin, not daring to kiss them but needing their touch.
“I’m not sure…”
This was the most uncomfortable conversation, maybe ever. But if it had to be said, then fine. He was saying it. “We could go see a counselor, or whatever they’re called. Do that once-a-week appointment thing for a few months. Or we could take off, just the two of us, for as long as it takes. I’ll answer your questions. We’ll make changes that work for us. Make us us again. Better than before.”
“But…”
She wasn’t saying no. That was a good thing. She hadn’t reminded him that he was long past the three-minute mark. “It’d be like a second honeymoon,” he urged.
She snatched her hand away.
Wrong thing to say. Honeymoons were all about flirting and screwin’ and—well, he’d take that too. “Angel.”
“Time to go.” She stood up, nearly knocking over her chair.
Still seated, he looked at the floor, dropped his forearms to his knees, and bent over. So close, and she was backing away again. He scrubbed a hand over his face then raised his head to rake his gaze over her. That knockout was still his wife, and there wasn’t a thing wrong with wanting her like he always did. Perfect breasts. Perfect hips. Pouty lips that could kiss and suck. No, nothing about the word honeymoon was off-putting to him.
Brock unfolded himself from the chair. He crossed his arms and studied. Dilated pupils. Shorter breaths. Her sharp stare dropped to the tattoos on his arm then roamed across his chest. He might not be Titan anymore, but he still had the skills to decipher the micro-emotions of a victim. Sarah wasn’t reacting as a victim. Not right now. She was reacting aroused. Shocked, maybe at how she felt, angry that her responses betrayed her attitude. But honeymoon didn’t scare her from him, just their conversation.
“Hell, I’ve missed you.” The words rumbled from his chest.
She took a step back, her nipples outlined through the fabric of her shirt. “You already said that.”
Springing an erection on her wou
ld be a worst-case scenario. Smart idea or not, he took a step forward. And another. Until Sarah was against the wall and he had inches to spare. “If you think packing up and moving out does anything to change my wanting you, you’re crazy. Because goddamn, angel, it’d be a lie. Take your ticket. Think it over and get on the plane.”
He brushed the hair off her cheek, pinning it behind an ear, and kissed her cheek. He lingered, letting his hips feel their fire, and he breathed in summer and sunshine. A nice, long breath. Just in case she didn’t show and he needed something to remember.
Brock stepped back. Her eyes were closed. Her chin dropped down. His eyes traveled over her body, memorizing every swell and curve. It was her hands that would stick with him. Palms flat against the wall. Fingers splayed and flexed.
He turned, took his one ticket from the envelope, and left her alone with her thoughts.
CHAPTER THREE
Surprised by the tsunami of skin prickles cascading down her neck, Sarah clung to the wall long after Brock’s heavy footfalls retreated out the front door. Her eyes stayed closed, still seeing him. Feeling him. Craving him.
She slid down the wall, landing in a turned-on mess. He’d always been her superhero. She’d always been his angel. Why did he have to break that out, when she had been struck so vulnerable by his very presence?
The Brock she’d married didn’t run off and talk to therapists. He had all the answers. He’d known all solutions… well, until he didn’t. In years of marriage, they’d had their share of fights. But he’d never been flat-out wrong. Even if she’d accused him of it. Until she and the kids had been taken.
Sarah slipped a hand over her open mouth. For all his muscles, his warrior-like toughness, he’d made himself vulnerable and asked for help. A therapist? It was so unlike him.
But that wasn’t why she plastered herself against the wall and remained on her floor, nearly hyperventilating. His smoky, dark eyes comforted her, even if his arms hadn’t. They’d seared her senseless. She couldn’t help but visually trace the cording of his muscles. The colors tattooed on his arm that she knew spilled onto his back.
He was rock solid. Wide as their house. Defined tall, dark, and deadly. He’d worshipped the ground she walked on. She knew that, and seeing him was a vivid reminder. Her mind was cloudy and confused. Every time she thought of the kids’ safety, she panicked. When she thought of him, she felt betrayed. But when she saw him, Brock broke through the mental barrier she’d erected for protection.
Her phone rang from on top of the table and, sitting on a lump on the floor, she decided to let it go to voice mail.
The kids!
Panic struck as her pulse hurdled erratically. She jumped to her feet. Irrational, unreasonable concern for their safety flooded her thoughts. Swiping the phone from the table, she read Nicola’s name on the display. Another Titan wife she hadn’t known until recently. Sarah had been cocooned in her little world, while other Titan men had loved and lived, in public. What had made Brock so scared to share them?
Catching her breath, she mentally scolded herself for thinking the worst about Kelly and Jessica. She’d come to Pennsylvania to get away from her paranoia. Like the distance would somehow help. It didn’t.
The phone continued to ring, still Nicola. She answered. “Hey, girl.”
“Sarah. Dang, it takes you forever to pick up. We—”
“We?” she asked, sliding into the chair Brock had just used.
“Sugar’s here too.”
“Hey,” Sugar said. “We’re in Nic’s car. Speakerphone.”
Sarah had briefly met Nicola but liked her. “Hey, Sugar.” Since she had them on the phone and the question was fresh in her mind, Sarah used the call to her advantage. “Who’s Mia Winters?”
“Good.” Sugar laughed. “Brock’s been there already.”
“You knew?” She glared at the floor. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”
“No, we just found out,” Nicola answered. “Sugar bothered Jared, who’d been talking to Mia. Those two are chatty-Cathies, I’m telling you. Anyway, you talked to Brock?”
Talked? Not so much. Pretty much stared. Years of marriage and the man was every bit as hot as when she’d first seen him. Actually, probably hotter. He’d matured. Shed his post-military body for the hunk of steel Titan had turned him into. “Yes. Well, sort of. Wait, tell me about Mia.”
Sugar jumped in. “Mia just had a baby. Winters is her husband. He never goes by Colby, but that’s his first name. She’s a military therapist. Deals with all those Special Forces types who can’t talk about their nightmares and paranoia, helps them transition into everyday life.”
Nightmares and paranoia? Sounded like her. “She talked to Brock.”
“She talks to all of them,” Nicola said. “Easygoing but tough as nails. If that makes sense.”
“Guess so.” Then again, all these Titan ladies seemed laid-back and unflappable. Just like she’d thought she was, until an abduction had proven her wrong.
“Well?” both Sugar and Nicola asked in unison.
“Well, what?”
“Don’t play stupid. What’d your superhero have to say?”
Sarah’s cheeks heated. She’d told Sugar that Brock was her superhero before the truth had come out. “He’s not my—never mind. He talked to Mia.”
“Yeah, we got that, hon. Keep going.”
Sugar was the bossy one of the group, that was for sure. “They talked about how we could, I don’t know. This feels so stupid to say out loud. How we could make things work again. I guess. He didn’t go into details.”
“He drove to Pennsylvania and didn’t go into details?” Nicola scoffed. “Typical man.”
“He gave me an airplane ticket.”
Silence.
For a second, which Sugar broke. Big surprise. “To where?”
“I, um, haven’t actually looked. It’s in an envelope.”
“Well, Jesus, Sarah. Go look. We’ll wait.”
She laughed. Yup, Sugar was definitely the bossy one. “Okay.”
Why was she nervous to open the envelope? Maybe because she was considering it. The kids would be fine with her mom. They’d spent plenty of vacations with their grandma before, without her or Brock. Maybe because she didn’t know how she felt about staying married, but when he was in front of her, all she could think about was the benefits of being married.
She peeled back the flap and pulled out her ticket. Leaving in two days. Flying first class. “Saint Lucia.”
Nicola squealed. “Oh, I love it there!”
Sugar grumbled. “I’ve never been.”
Laughing, Nicola added, “Well, I’ve never vacationed there. But I did have some downtime while playing spy games. I was able to take in a few tiki bars. All part of my cover. You wouldn’t believe how international terrorists like their island getaways. But I wasn’t complaining.”
Sarah chewed her lip. “I’ve never been either.” What would she bring? A swimsuit or a chastity belt? It’d be hard to focus on rebuilding a marriage if all she wanted to do was focus on his—wait. Was she considering this? And had simply seeing him been enough to start thawing her thoughts on staying married? Because she still had the same concerns. Major concerns. She didn’t know who he really was. She needed to protect her children from the lifestyle he led.
“So, it’s settled.” Sugar sighed. “You and Brock are rehabbing marriage in the tropical land of luxury. If I were the romantic type, I’d think this was sweet.”
It was settled? Not sure anything was settled. “I don’t—”
“If Cash and I ever have a major blowout, please tell him to bring me to an island.”
Major blowout? This was more than that. She’d made the decision to separate from her husband. But she was, at least for this phone call’s sake, agreeing to give him a second chance. “I have to think about it.”
Sugar made a humming noise. “Do you love the man, Sarah?”
Oh no. Now the ladies wer
e digging in deep. She couldn’t ignore them. They’d just show up on her doorstep like Brock. “Yes. I did. I mean, I don’t really know who he is.”
“That crap again. See, Nic, I told ya.”
“Sarah.” Nicola’s tone was no-BS. “You can be mad at someone and still love ’em. You can hate them and still love them. Forget what he did. What you think he did. Forget it all and remember just the guy. Do you want to give him a chance?”
“Yes.” She nodded. In an instant, tears welled and dropped onto the plane ticket. She’d been a sopping, crying mess. Out of character and ridiculous.
“Was he a good husband?”
“He was until—”
“Nuh-uh.” Sugar stopped her.
“Forget his ways and means,” Nicola continued. “In your mind, define what makes a good husband and see if he tried.”
He provided for them, like he’d promised he always would. He loved her, loved the kids, without reservation. He’d never cheat. Never so much as look at another woman. He’d kill to protect his family.
She dropped the ticket onto the table. It was common vernacular. An everyday saying. I’d kill for a bowl of ice cream. I’d kill to protect my family. But Brock really would. And would she want it any other way?
No. She wouldn’t. She knew that deep within her heart. So what was her holdup, and why was she running?
“I have to go, ladies,” she whispered. Everything was clearer and more confusing than it had been before her phone had rung. “Wait, text me Mia’s phone number. I want to talk to her too.”
“Will do.” Sarah could hear the smile in Nicola’s voice.
“Send us a postcard,” Sugar added before the line disconnected.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two days. It hadn’t been enough time for Sarah. Her kids continued to be thrilled with their new school and the friends they made in the neighborhood. Her mom hadn’t said much when she’d explained she was heading to Saint Lucia. But the look she gave Sarah made her feel like a teenager all over again. Her mom loved Brock. Had no idea why she’d left him and was taking his side without saying anything. Just that look. Irritating.
Gambled - A Titan Novella Page 2
