Enemy Within (Unseen Enemy Book 1)

by Marysol James

  He leaned forward and touched her face. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath.

  “I know what we agreed. Forget about that for a minute, OK? Forget what we said and forget what the deal was. I want to talk about what we really feel. What we really want.” He paused. “Is what’s between us still just sex for you?”

  Emma looked down at his hand holding hers. “No.”

  “OK,” he said. “Not for me either.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No. And if I’m being honest, it hasn’t been for a while.”

  She was quiet.

  “Emma?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t, Dean. I can’t ask you to be here for all of this.”

  “Why not?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Because it’s awful. I have chemo and I throw up for hours on end. Sometimes, the pain is so bad, I can’t stand to have anyone even touch me. All my hair’s going to fall out soon enough, and I’ll be… ugly.” Tears slid down her pale cheeks. “This whole thing is ugly.”

  Dean wiped the tears with his fingers. She still couldn’t get over how gently this man could touch her with those huge hands.

  “A few things to get straight between us, angel. First, you will never be ugly. Not ever. This illness is ugly and I get that – but you’re not. Second, I can be here if I want to be, and if you’ll have me. I have friends who’ll be there if I need to lean on them, just like you have yours. Third, I know all about fighting a losing battle against an enemy you can’t even fucking see. I know how afraid and frustrated you are. I know you feel all alone. But you’re not alone, honey. Let me be here for you.”

  “But I won’t even be able to make love soon,” she said. “You can’t – you need that from the person you’re with, I know. You won’t be able to do without that.”

  “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do without. I went through intensive and specialized military training and three tours in Afghanistan. You think I was getting laid every night? I can go without sex for long periods of time just fine, thank you very much. I’ll wait for you to get stronger.”

  “I won’t, though.” Her voice was soft. “I won’t get stronger, Dean. I’m not going to get better.”

  “What about a stem cell transplant? The bone marrow transplant?”

  “How did you know about that?” she asked.

  “The girls told me.”

  “They what? When?”

  “When I stayed right here in the hospital for the last two days.”

  Emma stared at him, incredulous. “You what? You’ve been here for two days? And nobody said anything to me about it?”

  “I’ve got to tell you, your friends are scary as hell when they want to be, angel. I think they could take me and the boys down, if they really put their minds to it. Anyway, they stood there shoulder-to-shoulder and refused to let me past the visitor’s room until I convinced them that I was serious about being in this for the long-haul. Me and the guys have been here the whole time and after lots of suspicion and a general lack of trust, the ladies are talking to us a bit more now.” He grinned. “They just had a conference in the hallway and gave me the green light to come in here and see you.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Totally.”

  “So you know that the cancer hasn’t spread to my spine or brain. Yet. But it’s progressing, and chemo isn’t working for me. I mean, it’ll hold things at bay for a while, but it isn’t going to push me in to remission. A transplant is my only chance.”

  “I do know all of that. And I also know that your best shot is to get a donor from the national program, but you have no matches on the current national list. That’s why I’m going to help with that.”

  “How? How can you?”

  “Well, me and the boys have already been tested as donors for you, and we’ve sent out word to everyone we know in our old units, asking them to get tested too.” He smiled. “We sent out the e-mail two days ago, and it’s been forwarded about four hundred times. Jim is taking care of all the formal requests from your doctor, and so far, about thirty people have gotten tested with more to come over the next few days.” He stroked her hand. “No match yet, but let’s just hang on, OK?”

  She stared at him. “You – you did all this?”

  “Yeah. I’d give anything to be a match for you, but I’m not. The guys feel the same way. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head, numb. “It’s OK. I’m just so amazed that you all did this for me.”

  “So,” he said. “You believe me now? That I want to be here for you?”

  Emma looked up at him as he sat there next to her. She’d never seen Dean look uncertain before and it touched her. His face was open and soft and she felt such tenderness for him, it caught her by surprise.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

  “OK, then.” He sat on the edge of her bed and opened his arms. “Come here, honey.”

  She struggled to sit up and he helped her, pulling her towards him gently. He wrapped his arms around her and she sank on to his strong chest, just let herself fall in to the warmth and comfort he was offering. She curled up and closed her eyes, feeling truly safe for the first time since her body had started to betray her.

  Dean held her carefully, shocked at how small she was. In just the past few days, she’d lost more weight, become more fragile. He felt like he was cradling a delicate piece of china, something that he could crack or shatter with one wrong move. He stroked her long hair and listened to her breathe.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, Dean.”

  “It’s OK, angel. I understand.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ve got you now, and I’m not leaving.”

  His lifted his hand off her head, and several strands of her hair came away with it. He froze.

  Emma looked up at him. “What?”

  “Oh, God. Did I hurt you when I pulled it out?”

  “No. What are you talking about? Pulled what out?”

  Wordless, he held his hand out to show her.

  “Oh,” she said. Tears were in her eyes again. “Oh, no.”

  She started to cry now, and he rocked her back and forth, murmuring to her. She clung to his t-shirt, listening to his heartbeat through the material. She’d give anything to be lying in his bed, relaxing on his chest after making love instead of lying in a hospital bed, her hair falling out around her. But Dean was with her, Dean was holding her, so it wasn’t all bad. It was OK.

  **

  Emma was released the next day. Dean took her back to his place and helped her up the porch steps. She saw the new front door and paused.

  “You got a new door.”

  “Yeah. I had to.”

  “You had to? Why?”

  Without warning, the door opened from the inside and Dallas stood there. A delicious smell rushed out to greet them as they gaped at his grinning face.

  “That would be because of me, darlin’.” He took her overnight bag from Dean’s hand. “I kicked the damn thing in.”

  Her brow was furrowed. “Why would you do that?”

  “Rescue mission.”

  Emma stared up at him. “Ummm. What?”

  “Never mind, baby.” Dean helped her inside and sat her on the sofa. He turned his attention to Dallas and raised his eyebrows when he saw the pots boiling away on the stove. “What are you doing here, man?”

  “What’s it look like, you fool? I’m cooking.”

  “You don’t cook,” Dean pointed out.

  “I do cook,” Dallas corrected him. “I just don’t cook very often since I have nobody to cook for. But I knew y’all were coming home today, and I wanted Emma to have something to eat.”

  “Oh, Dallas.” Emma smiled at him. “Thank you, but I’m really not hungry.”

  “Yeah, I get that. But
I did lots of research and you need to start taking better care of yourself, hon. When you get your bone marrow transplant, you’ll have to be strong enough to recover well.” He nodded at his laptop that was open on the coffee table. “I found a bunch of soup recipes and I’ve made three different kinds. What do you want to try first? Chicken noodle, tomato with rice, or mushroom with beef?”

  They both stared at him.

  “What?” Dallas said. “I know hot soup in the summer isn’t awesome, but I was thinking it may be all you can handle right now, Emma. I made sure to make soups with some bulk, you know, and lots of veggies, but if it’s too much, you can at least drink the broth, right?” He paused, a bit unnerved at the continued silence. “Um. You don’t like soup?”

  “Come over here, Dallas,” Emma said quietly.

  Unsure, he walked over to the sofa. Slowly, Emma got to her feet and he looked down at her. It surprised him when she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Mindful of her fragility, he gently returned the hug, his eyes meeting Dean’s over Emma’s head.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Dean nodded.

  “It’s no problem, hon.” He traced large circles on her back, soothing her a bit. “No problem at all.”

  She pulled back. “So… I’ll have the tomato, please.”

  “Good choice,” Dallas said. “Dean? You want some?”

  “Yeah. I’ll try the beef.”

  “Also a good choice.”

  They sat at Dean’s kitchen table, eating, chatting easily. Dallas watched her closely, saw how her cheeks rosied up a bit as she ate. He knew that she may well not be able to hold the food down later, but for now, it was doing her lots of good.

  She glanced up at him. “Hey, Dallas?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now.”

  “Shoot, darlin’.”

  “Well, it’s pretty obvious you’re from Texas…”

  “Guilty as charged. Born and raised in Dallas.”

  “And I was wondering – is your name really Dallas? Like your birth name? Or is it a nickname?”

  “Oh, boy,” Dean said.

  “What?” Emma asked. “Touchy subject?”

  “Sort of.” Dallas shrugged. “I hate my real name – like fucking despise it. When I joined the forces, everyone got a nickname and Dallas was mine. Never let anyone tell you that us military boys are even slightly creative.”

  She laughed.

  “So, it’s my name now. Suits me way better than my birth name, I assure you.”

  “I get it,” she said and she turned to Dean. “What was your nickname?”

  “Uh-oh.” Dallas stood up. “Time for me to go now.”

  “What? Why?”

  Dean was bright red. “Uh, well. My nickname was in reference to… uh. To – to the number of women I went home with.”

  She studied him. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So… better that I not know?”

  “Oh, for sure, darlin’.” Dallas picked up her empty soup bowl and set it in the sink. “For damn sure. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss. Trust me on this one.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A week later, Dean knocked on the apartment door, looking up and down the long hallway. It was a damn nice building – bright lobby downstairs, twenty-four-hour security guards, lots of expensive-looking potted plants, fresh flowers on the tables outside the elevators. He was almost beside himself to see what Emma’s home looked like.

  She opened the door and they smiled at each other.

  “Hey,” she said. “Welcome to my place, just for a change, right? Come on in.”

  He set his overnight bag on the floor and took her in his arms. “How you doing, honey?”

  “Better.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep. Good night’s sleep last night.”

  He gave her a kiss then stepped back. “Alright, Emma. Give me the grand tour of this place.”

  It was a big apartment for just one person, and as he looked around, Dean got the sense of how much money she must have been earning before she got sick. The living room space was open and warm; the kitchen was large and had all kinds of shiny gadgets on the counters. Her espresso machine was a thing of beauty and Dean admired the huge windows everywhere. Her balcony had an amazing view of the Rockies and she had a small table out there and lots of comfy chairs. Her bedroom was huge and had an ensuite bathroom, she had a good-sized guestroom. She even had an extra office space for private clients. It was overflowing with books about psychology, and her numerous degrees were framed and hanging on the walls.

  “So this is why you never wanted me to stay over here, huh?” he said.

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “Hardly a PA’s apartment, right? Plus, I kind of thought the psychology books and diplomas might give me away.”

  He shook his head. “Jesus, we wasted so much time with all the cloak-and-dagger stuff, didn’t we?”

  “My fault.”

  “Nope. Both of ours. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, right? No more secrets.”

  Emma looked at him. “But that’s not totally true, is it? I still have one more thing to explain to you.”

  He knew exactly what she was talking about. “Emma, you don’t have to. I don’t need to know what happened five years ago. It doesn’t matter, OK?”

  The kettle whistled and she moved to the kitchen to make some green tea.

  “I know, babe,” she said. “But I want to tell you, I want you to know… is that OK?”

  “You sure?”

  “I am.”

  “OK, then. Tell me.”

  “I’ll make the tea, you go sit.” She pointed her chin at the living room table. “Jenny brought over a bunch of food about an hour ago, so help yourself.”

  “Oh, awesome. That woman can cook, huh?”

  “Damn right she can. That’s why the restaurant is called ‘Jenny’s’.”

  Dean filled a plate and then settled on to her massive sofa and took a deep breath. Her home was just so calming and friendly; it was just like Emma, he thought. Elegant and polished, sure, but not the slightest bit off-putting, despite the obvious wealth.

  She came to him now and he stood to accept the tea. They sat down together and he waited, knowing that whatever it was she had to tell him, he wasn’t going to like it.

  Emma sipped her tea, trying to think how to begin.

  God, how to explain about Mark?

  “I had just broken up with a guy back then. Mark. We met at college, and we were together for three years. It was pretty serious – we lived together – but I couldn’t totally commit to him. He had bad depression when we met so I knew what I was getting in to, but it just got worse over time. Even though he was a psychologist, he refused to take medication and he refused therapy, and no matter what I did or suggested, he said no. I stuck it out for a long time, as long as I could, then I had to break it off when he started self-medicating with alcohol. It was – it was getting dangerous.”

  “He hurt you?”

  “No. Mark never laid a finger on me, not ever. But it was heading that way, you know? I could tell that the anger and confusion was all building inside him, and it was just a matter of time before it all came bursting out and landed on me. I mean, his rages were terrifying, his days and days of lying and bed not talking were terrifying in a different way. I had to get out.”

  “Did you?”

  She sighed. “Yes. I left him. And he killed himself.”

  Dean was sure that he had heard her wrong. “He what?”

  “He shot himself in the head.”

  Dean stared at her. “Oh, baby… I’m so sorry.”

  “He called me right before he did it. He begged me to come over to tal
k, and even though he’d done that for weeks and I kept saying no, I finally agreed. I had no intention of going back to him, but I thought one final conversation might help him.” She set down her cup of tea as her hands trembled. “He was dead by the time I got there. He must have hung up the phone with me and pulled the trigger almost right away. He was still warm when I arrived at his place.”

  “He wanted you to be the one to find him,” Dean said slowly. “He made sure of it.”

  “Yes. He wanted to punish me.”

  Dean closed his eyes, not wanting to imagine what she had walked in on. He had seen dozens of head shots in his life, and they were always unspeakably traumatic. The thought that Emma had found Mark like that hurt and infuriated him.

  “So as you can imagine, I was a mess afterwards,” Emma said. “I just – I couldn’t get in to a relationship again, and I didn’t trust myself as a girlfriend, you know? I felt like I should have done so many things differently with Mark and for Mark, but I didn’t have a clue what they were. The guilt was so overwhelming at one point, and I couldn’t get past it. Then I got really busy with work and I took on more and more patients, and… well… I kind of forgot about my personal life.”

  “Until now.” Dean touched her face.

  “Until now. And my timing kind of sucks, huh? I wait for a cancer diagnosis to get my crap together with a good man.”

  “It happens, baby. Good things at bad times, what we need comes to us when we’re fighting the fact that we need it.”

  “Yeah. That’s all true. Such is life, right?”

  “Right.” He smiled at her. “You doing OK now? About Mark, I mean. You know that what happened had nothing to do with you?”

  “I do. I mean, I always did, but it was one of those situations where you know something in your head but you feel something else inside. Sometimes it takes a while for your head and heart to get in sync.” She smiled back. “Otherwise known as the human condition.”

  “Uh-huh. And one of the reasons that you get to live in this amazing apartment… that dilemma keeps your client list full, I bet.”