by Lara Lacombe
So here she sat, alone in her apartment. Christmas was a day away, a holiday she normally enjoyed. But she couldn’t get into the holiday spirit, not when she was still so worried about Alex.
Her friend Carla had noticed her change in mood. “What’s going on with you?” the other woman had asked, cornering Jillian at the nurse’s station earlier in the day. “You’ve been really quiet since you came back from your three days off.”
Jillian had offered her a faint smile. While she appreciated Carla’s concern, she really didn’t want to get into the story of what had happened over her break. “I’m just tired,” she said. “I spent most of my break doing laundry and cleaning the apartment. Not really much of a vacation.”
“I know how that goes.” Carla eyed her thoughtfully. “But something seems off about you. Are you sure you’re okay? You normally love the holidays, but I haven’t seen you wear any of your pins yet.”
Jillian had a collection of holiday pins that she wore on the lapel of her white coat. She normally enjoyed the small bit of flair, and her patients seemed to like it too, often commenting on the snowman, reindeer, holly branch or Santa on her coat. The staff got a kick out of seeing what she picked every day, and it was a fun way to get into the holiday spirit. She normally started wearing them about two weeks before Christmas, but the holiday was tomorrow and she’d hadn’t worn one yet. She made a mental note to put on one tomorrow, if only to deflect more questions.
“It totally slipped my mind,” she said, injecting a cheerfulness she didn’t feel into her voice. “The days are going by faster and faster—the holiday is really sneaking up on me this year.”
“I hear you,” Carla affirmed. “I barely have time to get any Christmas shopping done. If it wasn’t for the internet, none of my family would have any presents!”
Carla had seemed content to leave her alone after their conversation, but her friend’s concern had made her realize how much Alex’s absence had affected her. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have dreamed that she’d fall in love with a man in a little more than two days’ time, but that’s exactly what had happened. And while the logical part of her felt she should be concerned that things were moving too fast, her heart understood that they had packed a lot of living into those few short hours. She had seen Alex at his worst, laid bare and exposed, and she still wanted him.
If she could only find him.
Were they still questioning him? Her interrogation had taken hours, and she’d only played a peripheral role in the drama. She could only imagine how long it would take to get the full story from Alex, to unravel the knot of details surrounding the failed operation and everything that had happened since then.
But more importantly, did they believe him? Her stomach tightened at the thought of Alex in a prison cell. He’d run because his own coworkers had turned against him—had they changed their minds? Did they realize Alex wasn’t to blame, and that Dan was the traitor? She had no idea if Jim’s recorder had picked up anything through her pocket, but surely they had people who could enhance anything that was there? And Jim had said he believed Alex and knew the truth—was that enough?
She stared down into her bowl, pushing the chocolate puffs around with her spoon. They bobbed lazily on the surface, moving along the current she created in the milk. She wasn’t hungry. Ever since the FBI had released her, there was a tightness in her throat that made it hard to swallow. Still, she knew it was important to eat. Cold cereal wasn’t ideal, as far as dinners went, but it was better than nothing.
After a few minutes she gave up pretending and rose from the table to carry her bowl into the kitchen. She turned on the faucet to rinse out the bowl, but turned it off after she heard a soft knock at her door. She paused, unsure if the sound had been real or just a product of her imagination. After a few seconds she heard it again, a little louder this time.
She debated ignoring it, as she wasn’t in the mood for company. But it might be Mrs. Rodriguez. While most of her neighbor’s issues were insignificant, she could be having an emergency, and Jillian would never forgive herself if something happened to the older woman because she’d failed to answer the door.
She grabbed a dish towel, drying her hands as she walked to the door. She pulled it open and froze, the damp towel landing softly at her feet.
“Hi.”
He looked good, she noted, running her eyes over him in instinctive appraisal. Dressed in dark jeans with a hunter-green sweater pulled over a white button-down shirt, he looked nothing like the desperate, hunted man who had forced her into a car almost a week ago.
Jillian swallowed hard, not trusting her voice. “Hi.”
Alex offered her a dazzling smile and held out the bright red poinsettia he was carrying. “I noticed you didn’t have any holiday decorations up,” he said by way of explanation. “So I decided to help you out.”
“Thanks.” She accepted the plant with numb fingers, still shocked at the drastic turnaround in his appearance. She’d gotten used to seeing him in rags, his hair too long and his face covered in stubble. Seeing him now, all clean-cut and presentable, made it hard to reconcile this man with the one she’d known.
“Uh, come in.” She stepped back, brushing a hand over the front of her scrub top as he moved past. It was silly, she knew, but the new and improved Alex made her feel underdressed, and she was very aware of the fact that she hadn’t showered in more than eighteen hours. She sniffed experimentally at her top, hoping she didn’t reek of the hospital.
She shut the door and turned to find Alex watching her, his gaze soft and tender. Her breath caught in her throat and she blinked to clear the tears that had suddenly appeared. Without breaking eye contact, she carefully set the plant on the floor. Then she took three quick steps forward and flung herself into his waiting arms.
“God, I’ve missed you.” His voice was a low rumble in her ear, his hands fisting in her top as he gripped her tight and crushed her to his chest.
“I know,” she murmured. She breathed in, the clean, musky scent of him—new, but yet somehow still familiar.
“Are you all right? They wouldn’t let me talk to you.”
“I’m fine. Better, now that you’re here.”
His chuckle vibrated through his chest and into hers, making her smile. “Were they nice to you?”
She shrugged, still holding him close. “I wouldn’t say ‘nice’ exactly, but they weren’t horrible, either.”
“How long did they question you?”
“A few hours. What about you? I’ve been going out of my mind, worried that they didn’t believe you, or that they threw you in some dark hole where I’d never be able to find you.”
He laughed, stroking his hand down her hair. “No, the dungeon is full. It took me a couple of days, but I managed to get the whole story out. Jim corroborated the details.”
“And Dan?”
He sighed, shifting slightly. “Dan swore up and down that I was lying. But since you managed to record him—” he squeezed her gently for emphasis “—his protestations of innocence didn’t go far.”
“Oh, good. I was hoping the recorder would pick up his voice through my coat pocket.”
“Jim always buys the best,” Alex said, a smile in his voice.
Jillian leaned back to look at him, enjoying the view. “Is Jim okay?”
Alex nodded. “He’ll be fine. In fact, he’s the reason the squad found us so quickly.”
She tilted her head to the side. “How so?”
“The recorder you had in your pocket? It has a tracking chip. Jim woke during our conversation with Dan in his room. Once we left, he called in reinforcements and they were able to pinpoint our location thanks to the signal from the device.”
“Amazing,” she murmured, shaking her head. “When we were right in the middle of things, I had a hard
time imagining we’d make it through. But we did, and now we can put all of that behind us and move on with our lives.”
Alex stiffened against her and a tremor of unease shot down her spine. Had she said something wrong? Was he upset at her use of the word “we”? Maybe she was moving too fast, pushing him toward something he didn’t want. Her stomach tightened, a familiar sense of dread washing over her. The last time she’d tried to get serious with a man, he’d turned out to be a lying cad. But although she trusted Alex completely, had she made another mistake? Did he not want to get involved with her?
“I’m sorry,” she said, releasing her grip on him and stepping back. “I shouldn’t have assumed. I mean— I didn’t mean to imply that we—” She gestured between them, feeling her face heat.
Alex stared down at her, his expression serious. “That’s why I came here,” he said softly. “We need to talk.”
Jillian shook her head, embarrassment a hot wave that crashed over her head and made her skin burn.
“No, really, it’s okay. You don’t need to explain. I understand.” He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand. “I get it. We came together in the heat of the moment, and now that things have calmed down, it’s time we returned to real life. It was just the adrenaline— I’m sure it happens all the time.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, so she focused on his broad shoulders instead. Had his injury healed? She didn’t want to ask him a personal question while he was clearly trying to let her down gently.
“Well, it’s been a long day and I’m sure you’re still catching up on rest after everything that’s happened.” She moved to the door, her hand on the knob. “I’m glad everything turned out well for you, and I wish you the best.”
Please just leave. It hurts too much to look at you.
Alex didn’t move but he kept his eyes on her, his gaze unreadable. “Are you done?”
She blinked, taken aback by his question. “Uh,” she said, stalling. “Thank you for the plant?”
“You’re welcome,” he replied solicitously. “Is it my turn to talk now?”
Jillian let go of the doorknob, her brows pulling together in puzzlement. Did he really think he had to spell it out for her?
Apparently so. He gestured for her to sit on the couch, and she gingerly lowered herself to the cushion, bracing for the words that would remove him from her life forever.
“Okay.” He took a few pacing steps, stopped and sucked in a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you, and I’m not sure how to start.” He ran a hand through his hair, breaking her gaze to stare down at the floor.
Jillian sat forward, his uncharacteristic distress making her nervous. Even when Dan had pointed a gun at him, Alex hadn’t broken a sweat. For him to be so discomposed now told her he had something troubling to share.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” she asked softly. “I think that’s probably the easiest approach.”
He sent her a half-smile and nodded. “I suppose you’re right,” he replied. “Here goes, then.”
“I know what happened to your brother.”
She felt as though a bucket of ice water had just been dumped over her head. Her body went completely numb and for a few seconds her mind was blank, like a computer going through a reboot process.
Her brain finally kicked back on with a small shock that ran through her system, making her arms jerk slightly. Jillian shook her head, certain she had misunderstood. What was he talking about? Jason had disappeared from her life two years ago. How could Alex possibly know him? She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t force the words out. Swallowing hard, she tried again. “What do you mean?”
“I saw him once. A couple of years ago.”
“Were you his dealer?” She hadn’t meant the question to sound so harsh, but Alex flinched like she’d slapped him.
“No.” He shook his head emphatically.
“Then how—?”
Alex held up his hand, cutting her off. “I was meeting with another dealer, trying to bring him into the gang. Tony, the kid you patched up, was keeping watch outside in the alley. Your brother came along and wanted to see the guy, needing a fix. I guess he was agitated, and he and Tony got into a scuffle.” He swallowed, then continued, the words growing quieter as he went on. “Tony shot him. I stepped out into the alley to see what had happened, but by the time I found your brother, he was already gone.”
“And then what happened?”
“I checked his pockets for identification, but didn’t find anything. I reported it to Jim as soon as I could, and his death was added to the growing list of gang crimes. But I don’t know if the local police ever really investigated.”
“I see.” An aching heaviness settled in her chest as she pictured Jason, drug-thin and desperate, dying in a dirty alley surrounded by strangers. He’d never been violent—not when he’d been high, not when she’d seen him in withdrawal. The idea that he had somehow attacked Tony, provoked the kid into shooting, was absurd. No way would Jason ever do that. It was likely an excuse Tony had come up with to explain his twitchy trigger finger.
She thought back to the dingy motel room and Tony, lying helpless on the bed in front of her. He had the body of a young man, but he was no innocent. She’d caught a glimpse of his cold, desensitized nature when he’d talked about torturing Alex. She shivered at the memory of his expression, the feral light in his eyes and the pleasure in his voice as he’d contemplated killing Alex slowly. Tony enjoyed causing pain. She had no doubt he needed very little provocation to inflict it.
And she had saved his life, pulling him from the jaws of death to act as grim reaper to the ones unfortunate enough to get in his way.
Her numbness was fading quickly, replaced by a bright, fierce anger that flowed through her like lava.
“Did you know?” she asked, her voice sounding dangerous, even to her ears. “Did you know who I was when you took me?” She stood and stalked toward Alex, who took a reflexive step back. “Did you make me save my brother’s killer?”
“No!” Alex tried to put his hands on her shoulders, but she shied away, glaring at him. “I swear, Jillian, I didn’t know. I had no idea who you were the other night. You were a stranger to me.”
She studied him for a long moment, trying to gauge the sincerity of his words. His tone was earnest, appealing even, and he held her gaze without flinching or shifting. He bore her scrutiny without comment, as if sensing that additional protests wouldn’t help to convince her. Finally she sighed, turning away from him. It was all too much. She needed a minute to think, to process what was happening.
A thought occurred to her, accompanied by a small thrill of hope that made her gasp. Perhaps Alex was mistaken, and the man who had died in the alley wasn’t Jason, after all. How could he be sure after two years? That was a long time, and if he’d only seen the man for a moment, had he really gotten a good look at his features?
“How did you know?”
“What?” She could tell he had moved to follow her, but he made no move to touch her again. “How did I know what?”
“If you didn’t know Jason, and you didn’t know me, how did you link us together?”
“Oh.” He sounded uncomfortable again, and she turned to face him, wondering if this was the moment his story was going to fall apart.
“Maybe you’re wrong,” she challenged.
He shook his head. “I’m not,” he said sadly. He walked over to her bookshelves and reached for a framed picture. “As soon as I saw this, I knew.”
“This” was a picture of Jason, his arm around Jillian after her graduation from medical school. He looked happy and proud, if a little pale.
Jillian took the frame from him, tracing her fingertip across her brother’s face.
“That’s why you were upset. The night I brought y
ou here.” It all added up—Alex’s sudden withdrawal, his desire to leave, to get away from her.
He nodded. “I almost threw up when I saw that picture. I couldn’t believe it.”
Moving carefully, Jillian set the picture back on the shelf. “Why didn’t you tell me that night?”
“You had already been through so much...” he began, but she shook her head.
“I am not a child. You don’t get to treat me like one.”
He reached for her, but she stepped away. “I brought you into my home. I treated your injuries, fed you, gave you my brother’s clothes, for God’s sake!” And wasn’t that the height of irony? She had shared Jason’s clothes with the man who’d had a hand in his death—some sister she was.
“I slept with you,” she whispered, the words thick in her mouth. “Only to find out you used me.” She shook her head. What was it about her that told men they could lie to her and use her for sex? First Mark and now Alex. She was better off alone, and she needed to remember it.
“It wasn’t like that!”
“Wasn’t it? From where I’m standing, it seems like you kept the truth from me because you were afraid I wouldn’t help you if I found out about Jason.”
“From where I’m standing,” he snapped back, “it seems like that was a correct assumption.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “So you admit it?”
“No!” He thrust a hand through his hair, clearly searching for words. “Was I afraid you’d kick me out if I told you about your brother? Yes. But that wasn’t the only reason I kept it from you. We needed time to talk about it, and if you recall, time was something we didn’t really have. Not while we were in the middle of things. So I decided to tell you later, after we were safe.” He spread out his hands, encompassing the two of them. “And here I am.”
“You were worried about time?” she huffed. “You certainly had time to sleep with me!”
