Enemy Within (Unseen Enemy Book 1)
Page 9
Goddammit, it’s official. I feel like I have a girlfriend. Jesus fucking Christ.
**
“So,” Emma said, trying to stay calm. “I haven’t responded to the chemo.”
Jenny reached out and took her one hand; Liv gripped the other. Kat stood up and moved behind her. She didn’t touch Emma, but Emma knew she was there.
“I’m sorry.” Doctor Hal Fife shook his head. “No. You haven’t.”
“Has the cancer spread?” Liv asked.
“I don’t know.” Hal looked down. “We need to do some tests, OK?”
Emma breathed out. “A lumbar puncture?”
“Yes,” he said.
“A what?” Jenny said.
“It’s also called a spinal tap,” Emma told her.
“Oh. What’s it test for?”
“To see if the cancer has spread to my central nervous system.”
“Right,” Hal said. “Specifically, to see if it’s in your spine.”
“Or brain,” Kat said quietly.
“Yes. That’s correct.”
A heavy silence descended on the small room.
Emma blinked back tears. “OK. So when so we do the puncture?”
“As soon as possible. Can you come in tomorrow?”
“Of course.” She wiped her eyes. “How long does it take?”
“Oh, the procedure itself takes about an hour…”
“Wait,” Liv said. “She’s going to have a needle jammed in her spine for an hour?”
“No. The needle is in for less than a minute, but we have to freeze the area and then check for Emma’s recovery after. The whole thing takes an hour – including set-up, prep and follow-up.”
The women relaxed.
“And I can go home after?” Emma said.
“Yes. It’s an outpatient procedure. You’ll be sore after, probably have some bruising, maybe experience a bad headache. But that’s it for side-effects. OK?”
She nodded. “OK.”
“So come to the clinic tomorrow at one o’clock. As soon as the results are in, I’ll call you to come back and see me.”
Emma stood up. “Thank you, Doctor Fife.”
“I’m sorry the news isn’t better, Emma.”
She shook her head. “Five rounds of chemo, eleven different drugs, over fifteen weeks… I guess we need to have a sixth cycle next week? Even more aggressive?”
“Honestly, Emma, I think the time has come to think about stem cell transplant.”
Jenny gasped.
Emma started. “What, already?”
“Your leukemia is very aggressive, Emma, far more than anybody anticipated. We’ll definitely do more chemo, of course, but I don’t think it’s the answer. Not for you.”
“So, I need bone marrow from a donor.”
“Yes.”
“How hard is it to get a match?” Liv asked.
Doctor Fife sighed. “It’s – challenging.”
“It’s difficult,” Emma said quietly. “The best chance is a sibling, but I’m an only child. The next best chance is someone in my family, but there’s about a thirty percent chance that I’ll find a match. My best shot is the national bone marrow program.”
“OK,” Kat said. “So… let’s get you in the program. Right?”
“Right,” Hal tried to look reassuring. “This is a long way from over, ladies. Let’s get you on that list, Emma, and we’ll take it from there.”
They all nodded, but for the first time since Emma’s diagnosis just over four months earlier, they were less than reassured. They were, in fact, completely terrified. They had all been so sure that the chemotherapy was the answer, and the fact that it was failing was a shock.
My God, Liv thought. Shit just got real. Really real.
She took Emma’s hand, wincing at how small and cold it was.
“Come, on, Em,” she said gently. “Let’s get you home, OK?”
“Yeah.” Emma was barely able to speak. It came to her that she wanted Dean there with her, whispering comforting things and holding her close. “Yeah. Home.”
**
Liv sat on the sofa, listening to Emma’s breathing in the master bedroom. It was slow and steady and Liv relaxed, knowing that Emma was finally out.
The spinal tap had gone well earlier that day, and besides some bruising, Emma had experienced no side-effects at all, not even a headache. But she was exhausted and teary and upset, and Liv had volunteered to stay overnight. Kat and Jenny had both protested, but Liv had been adamant: they both had to go to work in the morning, but she got Nigel to cancel her day. She was free and clear to be there for Emma, as long as she needed her.
She was just making up the bed in the guestroom when her cell phone buzzed with a text. Sighing, she picked it up and blinked in surprise when she saw that the message said, ‘FUCK YOU WHORE SLUT.’ Liv shook her head and tossed the phone on to the bedside table. In her years of modelling, she’d received numerous such charming text messages and e-mails. There were also literally thousands of obscene comments on her professional website and all over the damn internet about her.
Time to change my cell number again. I’ll have to ask Nigel to do that this week. Crap.
Liv had a shower and brushed her teeth and by the time she returned, she had another two text messages from the same number, both equally unoriginal and insulting. She turned her phone off and pushed all this bullshit out of her mind completely. She’d mention it to Greg, her security guy, but she wasn’t even a bit worried. What was really worrying her was sleeping in the next bedroom.
She went back to Emma and sat next to her bed for a few minutes, watching her sleep. Nothing else mattered right then; there was no world outside of Emma’s bedroom. Liv sat with her friend until she started to cry and then she left the room, not wanting to wake Emma up.
Chapter Eight
Emma moaned as Dean thrust inside of her gently, her hands clutching the pillow under her. He was lifting her hips, pulling her back and forth on his cock. She pushed back against him, hard, and he gasped.
“Christ, Emma… do that again.”
She did and she felt his whole body shudder. He grasped her under the arms and hauled her up on to her knees, holding her body against his. His hand moved between her lower lips to circle her clit and when she moaned, his thrusts sped up. She threw her head back to rest on his shoulder and felt his heart thumping hard against her back.
Dean couldn’t believe how good it felt to hold her again. He pressed his chest to her body as tight as he could, not wanting even one inch of space between them.
Closer. I have to get closer to her.
Her amazing body was shaking now, her pussy opening and closing around him, and he moved both hands to her upper thighs, holding her in place as his cock rammed in to her over and over again. She shrieked and closed her eyes. He felt her climax building and his own rushed up to meet him. Together, they came hard, writhing against each other, panting their release.
When her orgasm finally started to fade, Emma’s whole body went weak. If Dean hadn’t put one strong arm across her chest to hold her up, she would have collapsed forward on to the bed. His breathing was hot and fast as he mouthed kisses along her heaving shoulders, soothing her, murmuring in to her ear that she was beautiful. She clutched his arm, leaned back against his huge body, trusting him to not let her fall.
It took a long time for Dean’s breath to slow, and he gently pushed Emma forward and down, staying on top of her the whole time. He pulled out of her, hating to leave that hot centre, and laid down next to her. She cuddled back against him, her legs tucked up. He wrapped her in his arms, stroked her wild hair, his mouth nuzzling the back of her neck. She moved her head away a bit and turned to face him.
“God, baby,” he said. “That was amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I missed you.”
“You did?” She looked up at him, and he leaned down and kissed her.
“I did.”
“I missed you too,” she admitted. “It was one hell of a week.”
Dean nodded. He’d been shocked at her pallor when he had first seen her that night. She really seemed to be getting weaker, more tired. She had some fresh bruises on her body, too, he’d been distressed to see. She had brushed over them, but he hadn’t been so easily convinced this time that she was actually OK.
He kissed her again. “Be right back.”
While he was in the bathroom, Emma ran her hands through her hair quickly, tugging any loose strands free and hiding them in a kleenex in her purse. It was falling out now, she was horrified to see, and that meant that her time with Dean was coming to an end. She absolutely refused to have him pull handfuls of hair out of her head during or after sex.
He came back to bed and smiled at her. She smiled back, her heart tight in her chest. She knew now what she had to do, and it made her want to cry.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I end it with him. Dammit.
**
Emma woke up in the middle of the night. Her heart pounding, she sat straight up in bed, wondering what had disturbed her sleep. She glanced over at Dean, and the second she saw him, she knew that it had been him.
He turned over suddenly and rolled away from her, clutching the bedsheets around him. He made a sound in his throat, something between a groan and a sob. Carefully, Emma reached out to touch his bare shoulder. He flinched away from her fingers and she backed off, not wanting to upset him more. As she watched, he flipped on his side again, kicked out a bit with his feet.
“No,” Dean muttered. “Kimberley, get down!”
Emma waited a few seconds and when he twisted and turned again, she reached out once more. “Dean,” she whispered. “Dean, wake up.”
His eyes flew open but she knew he didn’t see her. He shot to a sitting position and the terror and grief in his voice scared her silent and still.
“No!” he shouted. “Kimberley! Open your eyes… ”
“Dean, it’s OK. Wake up.”
“Fuck, no… no.” Dean sounded heartbroken now. “Oh, God, please. No.” He lay back down and she saw tears on his cheeks. He was calmer, so she reached out again. This time, he turned in to her touch, pulling her to him. She went willingly, her arms wrapped around him and she stroked his hair.
“Dean,” she said quietly. “Are you awake, babe?”
She sensed the awareness in his body now; his shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched. “Yeah. I’m awake.” His voice broke and he buried his face against her throat, breathing hard. When he started to shake, she held him closer, pressed her lips to his forehead.
“It’s OK,” she told him. “I’ve got you, Dean. You’re OK.”
He closed his eyes and just held on to her. In three years of having the nightmare, he’d never woken up to find anyone else in his bed with him. He had always handled the aftermath alone, either by downing a few tumblers of whiskey to help him go back to sleep, or by lying awake the rest of the night, trembling and berating himself for what had happened.
This, though. Having Emma here, warm and soft and soothing. This was the best thing he could imagine – a sweet and loving woman to coax him back from the darkness. It was the best way to spend the first few minutes after waking up, after realizing that Kimberley had died in his arms all over again. That he’d failed her again.
Emma waited for his shaking to stop. She didn’t say anything, and neither did he. Whatever he needed right now was completely silent; it was about touch and warmth more than anything, she knew. He stayed where he was for a long time, and she stayed right there with him.
Dean finally pulled back, his eyes raw and vulnerable. “I’m sorry, honey. Did I scare you? Hurt you when I was thrashing around?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“OK, that’s good.”
She touched his lips gently. “You want to talk? Tell me?”
He dropped his eyes. “I – I don’t know.”
She waited a few seconds and then she asked, “Who’s Kimberley?”
He started. “I said her name?”
“Yes. More than once. You were shouting, Dean. Who is she?” She ran her fingers over his shoulders again. “Your girlfriend?”
“Oh, no. No. Not even close.”
“Tell me, babe. Please. Maybe it’ll help.”
Dean was quiet for so long, she was sure he was going to refuse. But then he sighed and started to talk.
“Kimberley Valance. That was her name. Rich woman from Washington, two sons in pre-law, married to some politician. He talked a good game about educating girls in Afghanistan, apparently, but Kimberley… she walked the walk. She raised money and kicked in quite a bit of her own and she started a school for girls just outside Kandahar. She didn’t just toss the cash at the idea and get back to her lunches, though. She got on a plane and she stayed for months, overseeing everything and getting to know the girls and their families. She was a – a great woman. I think you would have liked her.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Not everyone liked her, though, as you can imagine. From the word go, she needed round-the-clock protection, and even then, she was thrown into lots of dangerous situations… bombings as her vehicle went by, attacks as she left her hotel. The usual. But unlike all those other rich people who decided that Afghanistan was too tough to take, Kimberley stuck it out. She told me once that it was the reality her girls lived in, and damned if she’d run from it just ‘cause she could. She knew what it meant to be targeted for just being who you were, for wanting to do something more than what everyone expected you to do.”
She nodded.
“Anyway, she got her school up and running and it was no small feat, let me tell you. Me and the rest of my squad just couldn’t believe it, but we knew that if anyone could do it, it would be her.”
“It sounds like you got to know her pretty well,” Emma said.
Dean paused, seeing Kimberley in his mind’s eye again: pushing sixty years of age, with long gray hair that she saw no sense in dyeing, sparkling blue eyes, stunning smile. The first time Dean had met her, he’d been seriously taken aback – unlike the other dignitaries and political types he’d had to protect, Kimberley didn’t walk around in expensive suits and good shoes, looking well-rested. She was serious about what she was doing there, and applying lipstick wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Neither were photo ops or complaining about the heat. The woman was tough, smart, funny as hell. Kind, too; so fucking kind.
“Yeah. We’d all gotten to know her over the months, and we’d escorted her to and from the school many times. That wasn’t really supposed to be our job, you understand. Rangers aren’t really supposed to take the lead on bodyguard and security stuff like that, but the thing about Afghanistan is that there aren’t always enough highly-trained bodies to go around, so you kind of make-do. And we were more than up for it, you know. We were more than qualified to assess threats and take steps to protect her and the students. Dallas would often come along with us and set up position someplace elevated. Keep an eye on things and be there to pull the trigger if we couldn’t handle it all right on the ground.”
“Dallas was a sniper?” she said.
“Yeah. The best I ever met.”
She nodded again.
“So this one day, we took Kimberley to the school for some kind of celebration. God, she was so excited to see the girls again. All she talked about the whole way there was how she wanted to see how much they’d learned, and to thank the teachers for all their hard work and bravery. Not one word about her part in any of it, you know… not one mention of her bravery or work. It was always about everyone else. That was Kimberley.”
He took a shuddering breath. “The school was attacked while she was there. Large group of local Taliban fighters, well-prepared, heavily-armed. They knew she’d be there, clearly, and they came ready for a massacre. My squad outside was overwhelmed, but they held things off long enough for the teachers to evacuate the school and get the girls to the underground shelter that Kimberley had insisted on building. Me, Jim and Chris were all inside with her, but I sent them out to help. I stayed with Kimberley alone.”
“I stayed because she refused to leave the school until she was absolutely sure that every single person was out and safe. She checked on the cleaning ladies and the women who worked in the kitchen, those people who are so often forgotten when the shit hits the fan. I kept her behind me the whole time, and we crawled through every room of that school, making sure everyone was out. Only then did she agree to let me get her to the shelter.”
Emma felt tears prickling her eyes. My God. What a magnificent woman.
“We crawled down the hall to the back door, and she stood up too soon. She was in front of a window and I know she knew better, but I guess she thought it was OK since the window had a curtain on it. The thing is, it was a windy day and the curtain was fluttering all over the place.” He looked at Emma. “To this day, I have no idea how the guy pulled off that fucking shot. The only person I’ve ever known who could have done it was Dallas – it was taken from five hundred yards away, on a windy day, with a firefight going on. She was in front of that window for less than three seconds before I saw that she was on her feet and dragged her down again. But I was too fucking slow… he hit her right in the chest.”