All We Ever Needed

by D. A. Young

  “I’m too old for this shit, darlin’! Epsom soaks for sure when we get home. You okay?”

  She rolled back on her stomach and wiped the snow from her face, ruining her makeup in the process.

  “I’m good. How do I look?” Bedraggled curls clung to her red face and mascara-streaked her cheeks and her bronze gloss had been smeared off. All-in-all, a six on the hot-mess-o-meter. But she was happy and glowing.

  “Like that crazy chick from “The Grudge.” Kat punched his thigh and Holt kissed her cold nose. “You always look stunnin’, but your makeup’s gone to shit. Hold up a sec.” He pulled the soaked tendrils from her face and carefully wiped away the mascara, eyeing Kat critically. “Think I got it all. You’re only missin’ one thing.”

  “You’re so good to me.” Kat removed her gloves and patted her face. “What am I missing?”

  Holt smashed the large snowball he’d made while she was on her back, directly into her surprised face.

  “A little karma, baby.”

  ***

  Kat’s tears blurred with the water cascading down on her head. She’d promised that she wouldn’t go out like a punk. Except, time was not on their side, bringing them closer to the witching hour when Holton would leave her. She pressed her palms to her face and their texture startled Kat, making her aware that the water had cooled. She’d used the water as her therapy to shield her feelings of his upcoming departure, unwilling to expose any more of her vulnerability. Kat turned the shower off and dragged ass out of the stall to dry off.

  After applying a liberal amount of olive body butter over her entire body and moisturizing her face, Kat brushed her teeth and removed her shower cap. Grabbing her blue silk robe that matched Holt’s eyes perfectly, hence the reason for purchasing it, she wrapped it around her and left the bathroom. She stopped short at the sight of Holt sitting on her side of the bed, obviously waiting for her. Kat’s attention was riveted on the small black velvet box twirling in his fingers.

  “I’ve been carryin’ this around for what feels like forever, waitin’ for the right time to give it to you, darlin’,” he began quietly. “The timin’ never seemed to be right.”

  “Our conflicting schedules were a bitch to work out,” Kat agreed shakily. “For a moment, I thought we’d never get on the same page. Even now, things are…”

  Holt was slowly shaking his head as he rose and came to stand before her. Her heart was kicking at her ribs as the enormity of how much she loved this man impacted her. Kat was struggling for oxygen, and her vision blurred to the point that she was unable to distinguish his gorgeous features. She reached for him, and he steadied her by placing his hands on her arms.

  “I realized that the right time didn’t exist until we made it so. “Create the things that you love and feed your soul with what makes it happiest,” he quoted her with a twinkle in his eyes, and Kat smiled tremulously. “I remember when you said that to me in the middle of the Git & Split, and you were correct. We take the time to love and nurture what’s important to us and should never lose sight of that.”

  Kat pressed her fists to her mouth as Holt slowly lowered himself to one knee before her, eyes brimming with love and a hint of sheen glazing them “You are my life and heart’s greatest desire, min drottning. As I said before, you’re all I’ll ever need or want, and I will never be done fallin’ for you.” Holt’s rough voice shook like Jell-O, and his fingers trembled slightly as he opened the box to reveal a five-carat, trillion-cut salt and pepper diamond surrounded by a carat’s worth of pave diamonds on a platinum band.

  She instantly fell in love with the ring design and already clocked that her man had done stupendously on the four Cs: carat, color, clarity, and cut. It was unique and absolutely breathtaking.

  “Oh, my stars…Holt!” Kat sighed, her legs felt like they were about to give out. “Cartier!”

  “Don’t kill me, love,” he replied. “You’re the best at what you do, however, I couldn’t ask you to design your own engagement ring.”

  “No words, babe…you did good!” she assured him, waving her hands in front of her tear-streaked face.

  “Darlin’, I’m glad you approve, but I’m not quite done,” Holt laughed quietly when Kat pantomimed a zipping motion across her lips with her fingers and swiped her tears away with the palm of her hand. “When you look at me, I hope you see a journey worth embarkin’ on and want it just as desperately as I do. I hope you see a man that is utterly devoted to you and completely crazy about you. A man that is determined to be the best version of himself, not only as your husband but as a father for the family we intend to have.”

  “I’ve already waited an eternity for you. Every single minute of every hour of every day has been spent …” Holt exhaled and thumped his chest, clearing his throat loudly. He’d stared death in the eye more times than he had fingers and a gun pointed in his face was less daunting. Yet, never had he been more certain in his heart. “We’ve been over that, yeah?” Kat nodded and he continued. “I’m now down on my knee beggin’ you not to make me wait a moment longer, darlin’. Would you do me the highest of honors by makin’ an honest man of me and becomin’ my wife?”

  “It would be my privilege to say yes, Holton Brammer,” Kat whispered, sinking to her knees in front of him. They shared identical triumphant grins as he pulled the ring out of the box and slid it onto her left finger. It fit perfectly and with a whoop, Holt tugged a giddy Kat up and onto his thigh and soundly kissed her.

  “I promise you’ll never have cause to regret your answer, baby,” he murmured against Kat’s lips.

  ***

  It was three in the morning and she’d awoken, missing his warmth.

  They’d celebrated their engagement with champagne Holt had bought six months earlier, specifically for the occasion. Kat had been out like a light after two glasses. She slipped from the bed and pulled her robe over a grey V-neck, t-shirt she’d confiscated from Holt’s dresser. Kat knew he didn’t mind her wearing it. He freely admitted seeing her in his clothing was a major turn-on. A search of the cabin proved he was nowhere to be found yet, nothing was amiss, and both of their vehicles were still parked outside. Kat tied her robe tighter and padded back into the kitchen. She opened the spacious walk-in pantry and turned on the light. Walking over to the far wall, Kat pressed her hand against it, searching for the panel Holt had shown her months ago and pressed it.

  “Um, what kind of company are you keeping that makes this level of secrecy necessary?” she uneasily asked, side-eyeing the hell out of him.

  “Every home should have one, darlin’,” he answered breezily. “Now pay attention…”

  The entire wall smoothly swiveled, revealing an entryway. Heart pounding, Kat listened to Holt’s grunts of exertion and a repetitious, thumping noise. She stepped inside and descended the stairs to the secret basement, unsure of what she’d find. Kat’s mouth dropped open to find Holt barefoot and dressed only in navy sleep bottoms, his densely muscled body gleaming with perspiration.

  A rigged mechanical device hung from the ceiling and around the room. Hanging from it by metal poles were moving targets fashioned from tree stumps. Varying in size, they moved up and down merry-go-round style and circled one another, playing peek-a-boo. They taunted Holt as the speed rotated from fast to blink-of-an-eye. Kat counted thirty of them. Embedded in the middle of each target was a miniature axe. Holt stood in the middle of the room, relaxed, with his hands hanging loosely at his sides, pacing in circles, watching and waiting, his expression calculating.

  But for what? Kat wondered.

  She didn’t have to wait long for her answer.

  A loud bang filled the room, making her jump. Thunderstruck, Kat watched as an axe launched from a random stump and hurtled toward Holt. Oh, God. His back was turned, and she opened her mouth to scream a warning when he pivoted and caught the handle between his palms with casual aplomb, the blade inches from his face. Blonde hair whipping around his face, Holt flung it back with unerring a
ccuracy, and the stump flipped over under the forceful impact. Heart pounding, Kat fell back weakly against the wall in relief until the bang sounded again. Again, she jumped and again, Holt coolly reacted with speed and agility, completely unfazed. Years were stripped from Kat’s life even as her pride for him soared and a new level of respect and admiration emerged. He was magnificent and dangerous in his element, and Kat was more than a little aroused and turned on watching him manipulate his power until all the wood stumps were flipped over.

  Wiping the sweat from his face with his forearm, Holt warily approached Kat, unsurprised to see her. He’d known she was there from the beginning, she realized.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “I rolled over and you weren’t there.” Kat pulled a spare rubber band that she always kept in her robe pocket and gathered his damp hair, pulling it off his handsome face and into a ponytail. “It’s strange how I’ve slept alone my entire life up until three days ago, and now I can’t remember what it’s like.”

  “I know exactly what you mean, darlin. Sorry about that.”

  He squatted in front of Kat and she appraised him. Normally, the sight of his broad shoulders, washboard abs and rippling muscles, and that stellar dick print would have her pouncing all over him. Instead, she was focused on a couple of faded and puckered scars that were an extension of his alter-ego. Knife and bullet wounds, Holt recently disclosed.

  ***

  They’d just gotten back from a morning hike, and Holt was stripping down in the laundry room when Kat noticed the first mark. She hung her jacket up on the wall coat rack and trailed her fingers over the jagged slash about six inches in length along his side, too preoccupied with the odd scar to notice the spreading goosebumps.

  “Where did this come from, Holt?”

  He tensed at the alarm in her voice, that drove it up several decibels. “Hong Kong. Knife fight. Are you familiar with Cranium Blitz?”

  It was a mobile game craze that exploded on the scene six years ago, created by Shasha Koh, an eighteen-year-old female brainiac.

  “Yes, but what does it have to do with you?”

  “Falk Incorporated put up the capital for it. Shasha was hacked by her ex-boyfriend and cousin, a couple of jealous little bitches that couldn’t stand a woman being smarter than them. Simple misunderstandin’. We got it all straightened out,” Holt explained, flashing her that southern boy smile, full of ‘aww shucks’ meant to divert Kat’s attention.

  She turned her interest to unlacing her boots, a slight frown puckered between her brows. Holt could see the wheels turning and patiently waited for her next question.

  Kat dropped her boot and her fingers moved to a ridged scar on the side of his abdomen. “And this?”

  “Romania. Gunshot graze. Pirated software. Simple misunderstandin’. Got it all straightened out.”

  “And this?” Kat pointed to a small, puckered scar on his torso with narrowed eyes. “Let me guess, gunshot?”

  Holt nodded. “Italy. Massive fencin’ team. Simple—”

  “Misunderstanding,” Kat finished sarcastically. “Is ‘straightened it out’ code for killing?”

  “Killin’ is such a harsh word. ‘Straightened out’ has a nicer ring to it. It sounds much more understandin’ and diplomatic,” Holt pointed out reasonably while Kat stared at him like he was a dodo bird. “In that line of work, a little positivity went a long way.”

  “Is that in your Killer Employee Handbook 101 or something? Are Employee of the Month awards given too?”

  Holt raised an eyebrow at her. “Would you prefer for me to tell you that I scalped and decapitated—”

  Kat cut him short. “Bruh. Simple misunderstanding works for me.”

  ***

  “That was impressive, by the way.”

  Holt didn’t know what he expected her reaction to be from watching him. He should have known it’d be anything but fear. Kat was unique in that way. Since their misunderstanding, which led to his proposal, Holt had tried to be as transparent as possible regarding his once-secret identity. Nothing he revealed seemed to really phase Kat, and she took most things in stride. Presently, the concern etched into her face made his chest tighten. For once, Holt’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Glad you enjoyed it.”

  “How do you feel physically?”

  The benefit of knowing someone your entire life was noticing the changes they went through emotionally and physically. Currently, Holt was in prime condition. He lifted weights and ran every day outside or on the treadmill when it rained or snowed.

  He removed his cutoff gloves and shoved them in his pocket. “I feel fine enough to handle business. On our last trip? When we went to Chatham, New Mexico, I witnessed your daddy tackle a beast of a motherfucker that was half his age and win. I’m not about to go out like a punk. Shit, I’d never hear the end of it from him or Merada.”

  “Good to know that’s your only reason,” Kat retorted, turning her nose up at his dry chuckle.

  “You know good and well that ain’t even it. Come on. Let’s go back upstairs.” Holt held his hand out to her.

  She ignored it, not liking the turbulence brewing within him. “Not until we discuss why you weren’t able to sleep. Our bed contains no secrets, nor do we go ever go to bed angry.”

  Holt’s jaw locked. Kat’s lips pursed. He raised an eyebrow. She narrowed her eyes. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Kat never blinked. His mouth curled into a reluctant smile that she serenely returned.

  “You’re good.”

  “Correction, I’m damned good,” Kat responded cockily. “I’m also the staring champion in my house, sixteen years running. You won’t win. Have a seat.”

  Holt grunted and collapsed next to her on the stairs. Fixating on his fists, he was quiet and contemplative. Kat reached up and kissed his bearded cheek, not minding the sweat that complemented his eucalyptus body wash.

  “Thank you. Now spill the beans, please, Brammer.”

  “I have a decent relationship with my Uncle Julian and his wife Vera. They don’t bother me and vice versa. They’re not hostile, per se, but if they never saw my family again, I doubt they’d grieve. My parents’ choice to be together complicated their lives, and they feel adds more strife to it whenever we’re around. Uncle Julian stuck his neck out for Mama, and Ivar, bein’ the vindictive bastard he is, demoted him and cut his salary at Falk Incorporated for a year and banished his family from the family estate. Tage, Otto, and Ivar can kiss my ass,” Holt coldly dismissed.

  “And your cousins?” Kat prompted, rubbing his thigh soothingly. Immediately, he tensed up and looked away, jaw working furiously.

  “I always thought my other cousins and I were solid. Despite the shade Otto’s thrown my way, I’ve done my best to show that I can be trusted. In return, they’ve shown me how much they don’t trust me by withholdin’ Matty’s status!” His fist punched his palm, and it felt so good that Holt did it again and cracked his knuckles, before rubbing his eyes tiredly.

  “You feel betrayed.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” Holt snapped. “An ‘in-house’ matter is how Ivar referred to it. Not even Cleo, who I’ve remained on good terms with, reached out to me! Nor his parents! They chose Ivar over Matty’s well-being. How could they sleep at night, knowin’ they hadn’t exhausted all options?”

  Holt was a proud and quiet man, as stoic and strong as a mighty oak, keeping his emotions buried. Tonight, his pain and confusion were evident in his brooding, and Kat leaned against him with her arms wrapped his bicep.

  “You have every right to be angry and deserve answers to your questions, Holt. Everything sounds shady as fuck, like ‘salt looks like sugar’ shady. For now, don’t dwell on that. Instead, focus on the things you can control. You’ve got a name. Start with Bojku and tend to your business. I know you don’t want to, but you’re going to have to put your feelings aside and talk to Otto.”

  Kat held up her hand when Holt’s expression turned thunderous. “Bab
y, I’m the last person encouraging anyone to turn the other cheek. Hear me out. How about calling a truce until this situation is resolved?”

  “I’ve always been upfront with them and anything they needed. All they had to do was inform me and I’d handle shit. The smartest thing they could have done was bet on me and double down instead of gamblin’ and riskin’ it all with a tyrannical egomaniac.”

  “You can’t control the way people will feel about you or why. It’s not your job to either.” She leaned forward, cupping his jaw and turning his face to hers. Their lips met in a slow burning kiss meant to comfort and remind Holt of who he had in his corner. His queen. Kat put her lips to his ear, and her words hardened Holt’s resolve as well as his shaft.

  “You weren’t meant to follow. You’re not a sheep. ‘The Woodsman’s’ reputation wasn’t found in a Cracker Jack box, babe. It was earned and well-deserved. Go do what you fucking do best and remind them exactly why.”

  ***

  Two days later, Holt’s lingering kiss to her shoulder blade awakened Kat at dawn. “I’m leaving now, darlin’. Gimme some sugar.”

  Heart sinking, she rolled over and sat up in bed, looking up at her fiancée who was dressed in another custom suit. This one, a black tweed, English-cut was paired with a white dress shirt and solid black tie, and his hair was slicked back into a tight bun. It never ceased to amaze her how well Holt was able to navigate between his two worlds. He moved with an easy grace and emanated danger. As sinful as he looked in what she’d dubbed his MI-6 attire, Kat missed her sexy master carpenter.

  Despite her sadness, Kat’s mood lifted slightly upon noticing that Holt was wearing one of her Christmas gifts she’d insisted he open before leaving, a pair of platinum tomahawk cufflinks with his initials engraved into the blade of the axe.