The Complete Retrieval Duet

by Martinez, Aly

  The moment he got me behind closed doors, he guided me up to the office, where he produced two sets of DNA results. My name at the top of one, his at the top of the other, Tessa’s on both. I stared at them as he crouched in front of me, holding my hand and explaining that the police had approached him weeks earlier about the possibility of a lab error. He’d refused the DNA test because he’d feared they were using it as a ploy to once and for all get a legally surrendered sample of his DNA.

  For an average man, handing the police department a sample of DNA would be no big deal and the results would end up in a dusty box in the evidence room at the end of an investigation.

  For a man like Walter Noir—a money-laundering, drug-dealing, murdering low life with ties to people so bad that the government didn’t even have them on a radar yet—handing his DNA over was the equivalent of a life sentence. I didn’t know everything Walt was involved in, but I knew enough. I was positive there was a case file the size of a library on him, and the cops were begging for a way to tie him to it all.

  So he told me that he’d had his own DNA tests performed at a private lab to ease his mind, and he hadn’t told me because he hadn’t wanted to upset me.

  As if he’d ever cared if he upset me before.

  Still in a state of shock, I listened to him while tracing my finger over Tessa’s name, but never Noir. And, for the briefest of seconds, I wished that the results read differently. I couldn’t live without Tessa, but if it meant she wasn’t Walt’s, I could die with a whole heart.

  I nodded and told him that I understood.

  But I understood nothing.

  The truth was masked by a million lies.

  The only thing I knew for sure was that Walt’s “results” were worth about as much as the paper they were printed on, based on nothing more than the fact that they had come from his hands.

  I wasn’t sure if the cop’s story held any validity, but I wasn’t in any position to ask questions.

  At least, not yet.

  Tessa was mine no matter what a piece of paper read.

  My job as her mother was to keep her safe, and that didn’t end because of genetics—or the lack thereof.

  Unfortunately, that job became exponentially more difficult the very next day.

  Tessa and I were playing with sidewalk chalk on the driveway when a black Range Rover stopped at the front gate.

  It wasn’t unusual for Walt’s men to show up and let themselves in, but they all had their own code to get inside, so it caught my attention when the man put the car in park and exited his vehicle.

  “Mrs. Noir?” he called, moving toward the bars of the gate.

  He was big, his shoulders broad, his hair perfectly styled, but he was wearing a pair of tattered jeans and a vintage T-shirt that had to be older than I was. And it should be known he was wearing it really well. But there was no way a man like that could afford a car like the one he rolled up in. He had to be one of Walt’s men. I didn’t care what the old slogan said—crime definitely paid.

  “Did you forget your code?” I called out, using my hand to shield the sun from my eyes.

  “I…ah… Yeah. Any chance you could let me in?”

  Not if I value my life. I strolled closer, figuring he must be new. “Sorry, man. You know the rules. Call one of the guys.”

  “I…don’t have my phone,” he replied. “Any chance I can borrow yours?”

  I barked a laugh. Clearly, he didn’t value his life. I was off-limits to all of Walt’s guys. This conversation alone was borderline dangerous.

  I stopped in front of the gate and shook my head. “What’s your name? I’ll text Brock and see if he can help you out.”

  I was pulling my phone from my pocket when it happened. His hand darted through the bars, and he grabbed my forearm and slammed me into the gate.

  My heart lurched as my face pressed against the metal bars.

  “Listen to me,” he demanded in a rough and scary whisper.

  My eyes darted back to Tessa, who was still thankfully focused on her sidewalk chalk Picasso of Dora the Explorer. “Let me go! He’ll kill you if he sees you touching me!” I said quietly so as not to startle her.

  His voice was low and desperate as he said, “My name is Roman Leblanc. My wife and I did in vitro fertilization at Peach City Reproductive Center three years ago. The police recently informed us that our embryos might have been switched. And I’m here because I believe they were switched with yours, and I also believe your husband is responsible.”

  My lungs burned at the same time my nose began to sting. What was a nightmare within a nightmare called? Because I was currently living one.

  “You’re wrong.” I lied. “Let me go.” I attempted to shake his hand off, but his grip tightened.

  “I also believe you, much like my wife and I, are an innocent party in this. I’ve heard about your husband, Clare. I know he puts his hands on you. On her.”

  As I struggled against his hold on me, Tessa decided to finally look up.

  “Mama!” she cried, and his hold on me momentarily loosened at the sound.

  I took the opportunity to yank my arm from his grasp, but just as quickly, he caught the front of my shirt.

  “I’m a man of resources, Clare. I can save you. I can save Tessa,” he swore, his desperate, gray eyes shining the truth. He believed he could do it.

  I believed something a little different. “You’re about to get us both killed! Let me go. Walk away. And forget this address. Now,” I spat back at him.

  Tessa careened into my legs, sobbing. I patted her hair down and held Roman’s stare. “Shhh… Mama’s okay. The scary man was just leaving.”

  His face was stone, but I saw the wince before he could hide it.

  “Leave before he sees you here,” I begged.

  He shook his head. “Two choices. You pick her up and get in my car right this fucking second. Or, the next time you see me, I will be taking her without you.”

  The blood roared in my ears, and my vision tunneled.

  I’d spent my life protecting her from one asshole. I sure as hell wasn’t going to allow another to take her from me.

  Years of pain and fear all joined forces in the span of a second, igniting my adrenaline into a fiery rage. My fist flew through the bars of the gate, slamming into his face as I shrieked, “You will not touch my daughter! Ever.”

  Surprise registered on his face as he dodged my second scrambled blow. “Then help me get her away from him!” he implored. “I’m here to help you, Clare. I swear on my life I would never let anything happen to her. Or you. Just open the fucking gate and get in my goddamn car.” Anguish filled his voice, but again, even through my fury, I knew he was being honest.

  But Walt had held that same truth in his eyes once, and look where that had gotten me.

  His hand was still wrapped in the front of my shirt, and even with the adrenaline fueling me, I was no match for him, so I drew in a breath and used the only resource I possessed.

  It was wrong, and it felt filthy to utilize it on what seemed like a decent man, but much like the rest of my life, I was out of options. Opening my mouth, I screamed Walt’s name at the top of my lungs.

  His eyes grew wide as he started shaking his head. “No!” he growled. Then his anger morphed into pleas. “Come with me. Please.” His eyes flashed to the door behind me.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I waited for my dark knight to appear, swoop me off my feet, and carry me back to the dungeons of Hell.

  “Clare, please,” he said, digging into his back pocket and retrieving his wallet. Without releasing me, he flipped it open and shoved it in my face. “This is my wife. Look at her!”

  It took a second for my eyes to focus, but when they did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to see anything else ever again.

  Tessa’s eyes.

  Tessa’s nose.

  Tessa’s hair.

  Tessa’s smile.

  “No,” I breathed.

  Wit
h the exception of my eyes, I’d always thought Tessa looked like me. But, with one glance at that woman, I realized just how wrong I’d been.

  “Her name’s Elisabeth, and she’s a good woman. I scared you. I’m sorry. But please hear me when I say I can help you. And if you don’t believe me, fine. Give me the DNA. Get the police involved. They can help you. I’m not here to take her away from you. I’m here to get you both someplace safe.”

  I couldn’t have answered if I’d tried.

  But I never even got the chance.

  “Fuck!” Roman barked, letting me go and then hauling ass back to his car.

  Walter must have finally shown up to save me—from a man who was actually trying to save me.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  No!

  I spent the day finding things to do in order to keep my mind off…well, my life.

  I returned phone calls from clients who had zero intention of actually buying a house. Replied to emails from other clients who were concerned about why their overpriced, smelly house had been on the market for over twenty-four hours. And then I had lunch with Jon where I had the unfortunate task of informing him that Roman was back in my life. At least temporarily.

  He smiled. Lied and said he was happy for me. I felt like a total heel. After a quick hug in front of a sandwich shop, I watched a good friend walk away for what I hoped wouldn’t be the last time.

  Roman was in a mood when he got home. Unfortunately, so was I, considering my house was not his home and he had used a key, which I had not given him, to get in the front door. He’d at least had the good manners to toss it in the key basket when he’d slammed the door behind himself. I made a mental note to remove it from his key ring before kicking him out.

  “What are you doing here?” I snapped, rising off the couch as he marched to the back door to let a tap-dancing Loretta outside.

  It should be said that she was not the best guard dog.

  “Change of plans. I’ll have Seth deliver dinner again. Figure out what you want. I need a shower,” he said before heading to the stairs.

  “Um, maybe we should try that again? What are you doing here?” I asked his back while following him up.

  “Anything but Chinese and I’ll be cool.”

  “Roman,” I called. I was hot on his heels as he walked past my bedroom door and yanked the door to the hall closet open.

  “Actually, I could do a good burger.”

  “Roman!” I finally yelled when it was clear he had no intentions of answering my question.

  He lifted his gaze to mine and said, “What?”

  “What?” I repeated, dumbfounded.

  “Yeah. What, Lis? You got something to say? Let’s hear it, because right now, I need a shower, a beer, and, if it’s good with you, a fucking burger.”

  Roman was officially off his rocker, so I gave it to him gently. Which meant I only used minimal sarcasm when I gave it to him.

  “Okay. Well, then you better hurry home and get on that.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.” He bent down to the bottom of the closet and retrieved a gym bag that was busting at the seams.

  He’s leaving. Praise the Lord!

  He squeezed my hip as he walked past me…

  Directly.

  Into.

  My.

  Room.

  “What are you doing?” I asked a little louder than I had planned, but it was still below a shriek, so I chalked it up as a huge demonstration of self-restraint.

  He tossed the bag into the corner by the bed, and it slid across the hardwood until coming to rest against the wall. “Jesus Christ, Lis. We just discussed this.”

  “No. What we discussed was you going home to your house, taking a shower, drinking a beer, and ordering a burger. I’m not sure why I’d have to agree to said burger seeing as how I won’t be eating dinner with you. But, if you need that approval, you got it!”

  His eyes narrowed and the muscles in his sexy, sexy jaw began to tick as he ground out, “I know you heard me say I was checking back in last night.”

  I threw my arms out to my sides. “Still not a hotel!”

  He sucked in a hard breath, his chest expanding, and just like his jaw, it was sexy squared. “I had a shit day, Lis,” he warned, scrubbing a hand over his smooth chin. “I’m not coming home to more shit. So check your attitude before I check it for you.”

  My mouth fell open as I gasped. “You did not just threaten me.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” was all he said before he was on the move.

  And, as it seemed he only had one speed when he was pissed, he did it fast.

  One of his hands went to my ass, the other into the back of my hair, and he had me pinned against the wall beside the door before I could even protest.

  My body heated from head to toe as his fingers in my hair curled into a fist like he had done so many other times over the last twenty-four hours.

  It was clear I needed to either shave my head or find a way to amputate his arms, because the sparks that fired off inside me had become progressively more intense each time. I feared I’d spontaneously combust if there was a next time.

  “Roman,” I breathed, though I should have been fighting against him.

  Coulda. Shoulda. Woulda.

  “I’m not fucking leaving. There is a shitstorm brewing around us, and I’m gonna take care of it. But, in that, I’m gonna take care of you, too. You gotta trust me on that, Lis. I fucked up in the past. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that I wasn’t. I’ll explain that to you later. But do not for one second think that you are going to melt for me the way you did yesterday, again last night, and then again this morning after two fucking years and then you’re gonna take it away.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, feigning innocence, though I knew exactly what he was talking about. I had melted for him. I just wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. Not even to myself, and certainly not to him.

  He twisted his lips. Then he proved his point by using my ass to grind me against his thickening length, which drew a moan from my throat.

  “You feel it between us,” he declared.

  “Roman, you’re very well…um…endowed,” I informed in a sugary-sweet tone before finishing with a snap. “Of course I fucking feel it.” It was a last-ditch effort to keep from falling under his spell.

  It failed.

  He grinned arrogantly and gave my ass a squeeze.

  I moaned, and this time, I ground into him.

  He dropped his elbow to the wall. “Christ, Lis.”

  That small victory allowed me to take some of the power back. I couldn’t lie: I wanted Roman. I’d been physically and mentally strung out all afternoon as I’d sat on the couch, waiting for him to come back while equally hoping he didn’t.

  But the fact remained. He did come back. And, now, he had me pinned against the wall, only two layers of clothes separating me from what I knew would be an incredible night of ecstasy. And, through all of this, he hadn’t kissed me yet.

  And I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  “Fine. If we’re gonna do this, we’re doing it my way. One night. You leave when we’re done.”

  “Done?” He laughed. And not just a chuckle. I’m talking an all out belly laugh like I’d taken up a side gig as a stand-up comedienne.

  “I’m serious,” I defended.

  “You’re a lot of things. But serious is not one of them. I get inside you, I’ll have my ring back on your finger by tomorrow night.”

  Oh, hell no! We are not going back down that road.

  I gave him a hard shove. “You will not. Don’t even think about it. That is not what this is about.”

  He smirked. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not proposing.”

  That mildly relaxed me.

  Well, until his lips descended upon mine and he said, “But you’ll still
say yes,” a half second before taking my mouth.

  Oh God.

  Yes.

  Without hesitation, I opened like the desperate woman I was, welcoming him home. His tongue greedily swirled with mine, and I circled my arms around his neck, taking him deeper, my nipples tingling as they met his chest.

  After releasing my hair, he moved his hand down to the other side of my ass and lifted me off the floor. I took the cue and wrapped my legs around his waist. My dress gave way and his straining hard-on made contact with my lace-covered core, forcing a cry from my lips.

  It had been too long.

  Too long without him.

  Too long since I’d reached for the toy tucked into the back of my bedside table.

  Too long since I’d dropped my finger between my legs in the shower.

  Part of that was because it paled in comparison to the real thing.

  The other part being that I couldn’t close my eyes without imagining it was him.

  No matter how much I’d told myself to let him go, he was always in the forefront of my mind.

  But there he was, in the flesh, carrying me to a bed that had once been ours, and I was ready to let him take me in any and every way he wanted.

  He set me on the edge of the mattress and then followed me down. His hands landed on either side of my head, his mouth still moving with a practiced ease over mine.

  I kept my legs around his hips, locking my feet at the ankle and using them as leverage to circle myself against him.

  “Fuck, baby,” he grumbled into my mouth.

  I made fast work of peeling his shirt over his head then sat up off the bed long enough for him to tug the zipper at the back of my dress down. He didn’t delay in pulling it over my head.

  As much as I’d lied to myself about what was going to happen if he showed back up tonight, deep down, I’d known. And it was that knowledge that left me sitting in front of him in only a pair of black lace panties and a matching bra that were not only beautiful, but the pattern was so wide that it was damn near invisible. Everything from my nipples to my slit was on display.

  With an approving rumble, he raked his eyes over me. Licking his lips, he pushed me back flat and sank to his knees between my legs, which were hanging over the side of the bed.