Her Protector

by Rianna Campbell

  Angel stayed, checking on him, making sure he ate, reminding him when it was time to take his meds, and generally doing what came naturally to her-- caring.

  “You know your phone has like five voicemails on it.” She remarked when she brought him dinner.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. And Alexandra hasn’t been around the last couple days.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re being an ass about something, aren’t you?”

  “No.” Connor sighed. Angel rolled her eyes in that special way that only younger siblings-- sisters especially-- can do that says a lot of things at once; primarily “You are such an idiot,” “Why do I put up with you?,” and “Dear Lord, please tell me I was adopted.”

  “Okay, whatever.” Yet another code used by younger sisters to mean that they know damn well you’re being stupid and the only reason they aren’t going to call you on it is because you wouldn’t listen anyway.

  “What the hell would she do anyway? Watch me sleep? She has better things to do.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. She could comfort you, help you, generally care about you?” She scowled. “Things that people normally do for the people they love. If the people they love aren’t too stubborn to let them.”

  “What are ye talkin’ about?”

  “You don’t have to handle everything on your own, Connor.” Angel sighed. She left the plate of food on the nightstand and left, closing the door behind her

  Ah, hell…

  ✽✽✽

  “I’m starting to really worry.” Alexandra frowned into her tea. She had taken two weeks worth of sick time, a week of which had already passed, and she was sitting around her house when she should have been at Connor’s taking care of him.

  “So go over there and see what the hell is going on.” Janie said, sipping her cocoa. She wasn’t a tea drinker, but she loved her chocolate.

  “I talk to Angel everyday and she says he’s sleeping a lot so I don’t want to go over and disturb him when he should be resting. But a lot isn’t all the time. I call and he never answers and he doesn’t call me back.”

  “Again, go over and hang out until he wakes up and find out what’s up.”

  “What if I freaked him out when I told him I loved him?”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it. That boy is crazy about you.” Janie snorted. “He took a bullet for you, sugar. If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.”

  “Taking a bullet for people is literally his job.” Which was entirely terrifying. If they managed to work things out she didn’t know how she would deal with knowing her boyfriend was going to be in danger on a regular basis. When she’d seen that blood… She couldn’t even think about it without wanting to cry. Not even thinking she was going to die had terrified her as much as the thought of losing Connor.

  “I don’t know. I feel like he’s… pulling away for some reason. I don’t know if it’s something I did or if he’s freaking out about something else or if this is just some stupid macho ‘can’t look weak in front of my woman’ thing.” Though she knew he wasn’t the type, really.

  “Well, if you won’t go over and find out, your best bet is Jackson.”

  “Jackson?”

  “Call him and pump him for information. He likes you. If he can help, I think he will.” Janie shrugged.

  “Maybe…”

  “Think about it. I’m going to bed. You staying up for a bit?”

  “Just a few more minutes.”

  “Night, Lex. Don’t let this keep you up. You need your sleep.”

  “I won’t. Night.”

  She did need her sleep. The bruises around her eyes were almost gone, her nose had returned to normal size, though it was still a bit tender and her neck bore only a few faint marks. But she was so tired. The whole experience had made her weary to her very soul. She’d met with her therapist, who was, as always, supportive and helpful, but she knew it would take time to put everything finally, blessedly behind her.

  She finished her tea and rinsed out her cup before heading to the laundry room. She’d been putting off the chores all week. Between her parents and her sister constantly popping in to check on her, feeling as though she’d been hit by a truck and everything that was-- or wasn’t -- happening with Connor, she hadn’t had the energy to put her house to rights.

  Today she had finally checked some things off her list, including her laundry. The last load was ready to come out of the dryer and if she did it now, she wouldn’t have to worry about it in the morning.

  She carted the basket upstairs and got started on folding. She was down to the last pair of jeans when something dropped into the basket with a soft thud. She picked it up and it took her a moment to recognize what it was. When she did, inspiration struck. She hurriedly folded her jeans and put the rest of her clothes away. Then, she started to make a plan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  For the last week, Connor had been having strange dreams. He blamed it on a combination of pain meds and PTSD, the events of Monday night certainly being enough to trigger a pretty bad episode.

  He had dreams about Ramirez and Thomas dying in the desert while he stood there watching. He had dreams of Alexandra, bruised and bleeding beside him as he lay there paralyzed and dying. He even had dreams about Angel being in trouble and not being able to save her.

  Either God had taken pity on him, or his subconscious had decided he’d been tortured enough, because tonight he dreamt of Alexandra lying in bed beside him. He could smell the honey and almond scent of her and hear her soft voice soothing him back into sleep. It was so vivid and sweet it made him want to weep.

  When he awoke in the morning it was to an empty bed. He wasn’t sure if perhaps that was even crueler than the nightmares, to dream about her and wake up to find out it wasn’t real. He could practically smell her on his pillow.

  The sun was up, but he could tell it was still early by the way the sun slanted through the eastern facing windows in his bedroom. He could hear footsteps and cabinet doors opening and closing in the kitchen, so Angel must have been up making breakfast already.

  He dragged himself to the bathroom and took care of business, testing his shoulder out as he did. It was still tender, but it didn’t bother him much when he moved it. He’d been surprised how small the incision was the first time he’d seen it, and now it was well on its way to being just another scar.

  He took a shower and was able to wash his hair with both hands without much difficulty. He’d still have to take it easy for a while, which according to the doctor meant no lifting weights and no boxing, but he’d be fine to go back to work next week, which was a relief. Much more time stuck in this apartment by himself, or with Angel hovering and lecturing, and he was likely to go mental.

  He slept as much as possible to keep from thinking about Alexandra. He needed to get back to work so he’d have something else to occupy his time. He knew he needed to talk to her. He couldn’t just ghost her without any explanation. She deserved better than that- better than him.

  He scrubbed a towel over his hair and then wrapped it around his waist, heading for the bedroom. As soon as he’d stepped through the door, he stopped.

  “Good morning.” Alexandra smiled at him from his bed. She looked relaxed and sexy in one of his t-shirts, and she had a tray of food next to her, complete with a single daisy in glass of water.

  “Lex? What… When did you get here?”

  “Last night.” She shrugged. “You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “How…”

  “You forgot that you gave me this.” She held up a single key on a metal ring.

  “How are you?” He swallowed hard. His chest ached, knowing this might be the last time he saw her, and knowing it was for the best if it was.

  “Physically, I’m fine. But since my boyfriend, who was recently shot, hasn’t been returning my calls, I’ve been pretty worried.”

  “Lex, I…”

  “How are you,
Connor?” The concern and anxiety on her face killed him.

  “I’m... “ He scrubbed a hand over his face and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. “I don’t know.” He felt the bed dip and a moment later she sat behind him, one leg on either side and her arms wrapped around his waist. Her cheek rested between his shoulder blades and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of her.

  “You can tell me anything. When you’re ready, you can tell me whatever you want, and I’ll listen.” She whispered, punctuating it with a kiss to his shoulder.

  “I don’t deserve you.” Came out in a hoarse whisper before he could stop it. Alexandra, bless her, said nothing. She merely hugged him, her thumbs stroking back and forth across his skin. He was silent for a long moment, trying to find a way to explain.

  “No matter how hard I try, I let everyone down.”

  “That’s not true.” She said quietly.

  “It is. Every summer I left Angel alone with my grandmother when I should have been there to take care of her.”

  “You were only a child yourself, Connor. It wasn’t your job to look after your sister.”

  “I knew nobody else would. My grandmother was… I didn’t even know half of what Angel went through until I came home from the Army.” He paused and took a long breath. “I let my father down, too. Do you know why I joined the Army? My Da wanted me to move to Glasgow with him. Even offered to help me with university if I could manage to get in.

  “Said if I didn’t want to go to college, he’d help me get a job. I wanted to go so badly. Ma wouldn’t really have cared, except to spite him, but I felt like I’d be giving up on Angel, and I couldn’t bear it when everyone else in her life already had. So instead of disappointing either one, I disappointed both. I joined the Army and pretended it was for some other reason than to avoid making a choice. ”

  She squeezed him and kissed his shoulder again. A silent show of support that made his throat feel tight. It occurred to him that they were in much the same position as they’d been while Alexandra had told him about her past. It felt fitting.

  “And then, in the Army, I did things. Things that…”

  His voice broke and she hugged him tight.

  “I trained as a sniper, but we mostly did recon and special missions. Get in, get out. We had to be precise, no mistakes.” He was quiet for a long moment, mustering his courage.

  “Except I made one. On a mission outside of Mosul. I’d done the scouting and recon, I’d chosen the positions based on what I observed over three damn days of watching the target. I decided when and where we’d go in.

  “Three of my team died that day and it was my fault. I missed something. Something really important and they walked into an ambush and there was nothing I could do.”

  ✽✽✽

  His voice broke with a mixture of agony and rage and Alexandra climbed into his lap and took his face in her hands. He looked at her without seeing. He was somewhere else and she needed to bring him back.

  “No.” She ground out. His eyes snapped up to hers and the utter despair made her choke back a sob. “It wasn’t your fault. You did your best. Sometimes our best isn’t enough, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. You saved lives, Connor. You did what you did to save lives, and so did every one of them. I won’t tell you they knew the risks, even though they did. I won’t tell you that it’s the cost of freedom or any bullshit like that. It’s awful and it sucks and it’s so unfair. But it’s not your fault.”

  He nodded and a single tear trailed down his cheek. She swiped at it with her thumb and he dropped his eyes.

  “You sound like Sam.”

  “Sam is a smart guy.”

  “He was with me… that day.”

  “Then he would know, wouldn’t he? And I was with you when you saved my life, so I would know. You didn’t let me down. You saved me.”

  “You did pretty well on your own.”

  “True, but I was in shock. I didn’t know he had a gun. I wouldn’t have been able to get myself free and away from him in time if you hadn’t been there.”

  “It kills me that he hurt you.” His arms came around her, finally, and Alexandra relaxed a little.

  “He hurt me. He hurt you, and that was worse. I love you, Connor. I trust you.”

  For a long moment they simply held each other in silence. Arms wrapped around each other. She put her head on his shoulder and kissed his jaw. He was fresh from the shower, and she could smell the woodsy scent of his soap and the purely masculine scent of him underneath.

  “I’m sorry.” He said softly.

  “For being stubborn and pushing away someone who cares about you because you think you have to deal with the weight of the world all by yourself?”

  “Something like that.” She felt him smile against her neck and smiled too.

  “I know what that’s like, so you’re forgiven. And I know just how you can make it up to me.” She kissed him quickly and scooted off his lap. She stripped out of his shirt and tugged him to his feet. His towel fell to the floor and for a moment she simply stood there, devouring him in all his naked glory.

  She kissed him again, this time teasing him into a deep, soul shattering kiss. With one arm wrapped around his waist and her hand furrowed into his hair, she maneuvered between him and the bed.

  She held him tightly as she fell to the bed, taking him with her. He froze for a moment when he realized he was now lying on top of her, but she held him to her and kissed from one corner of his mouth to the other. She kissed his cheek, along his jaw, and pulled his earlobe between her teeth. He relaxed a fraction and groaned as she nipped at the skin of his neck, just below his ear.

  “I trust you.” She whispered between open mouthed kisses to his shoulder. His arms tightened around her and his body relaxed over her, a comforting, calming weight. He nuzzled her neck, kissing a trail up the side of her neck.

  “I love you, Lex.” He whispered in her ear. “I love you so damn much.”

  “Then love me.” She kissed his shoulder and clung to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. And he did love her, slowly and sweetly. Twice.

  Christmas Eve

  Alexandra finally, finally, crawled into Connor’s- their-- massive bed and snuggled down beneath the covers, shamelessly watching Connor strip out of his dress clothes and prowl toward the bed, all hard intriguing planes and masculine grace. He caught her staring and gave her a wide smile before flopping down beside her.

  “You’re tired, remember? Don’t be lookin’ at me like that.” He growled, kissing her neck.

  “I am exhausted, and you know it.” She yawned then which made her point for her.

  “Then get some sleep, love.” He pulled her tightly against him, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back in small circles with his large warm hands. Heaven.

  “I like your dad.” She said sleepily, closing her eyes to better enjoy his hands on her aching muscles. “And my parents like him.”

  “They all got on well. The three of you discussed law, he discussed Scotland scenery with your parents, Angel and Mary Fran talked about their gardens, and everyone stuffed themselves on your sister’s pastries.”

  “I’m so glad you convinced them to come here for Christmas.”

  “Mm.” He agreed.

  “How did they meet anyway?”

  “Mary Fran was a client. Nasty divorce as I understand it. Husband was a right bastard. Dad took her case, pro bono, and got her half of everything and a protection order.”

  “Ah, so the heroism runs in the family.”

  “I suppose so.” He chuckled.

  Alexandra sat up. “That reminds me. I wanted to give you one of your gifts tonight.” She scrambled out of bed and retrieved the wrapped box from the closet where she’d stashed it earlier. She was nervous. When she’d ordered it months ago, it had been something of a joke. But now it was a very sincere symbol of what she felt, and she didn’t know how he would take it.

  He o
pened the paper and lifted the lid on the box. He stilled and then withdrew the small statue from the box. It was made of some pale stone and was a beautifully rendered figure of a knight upon his horse, charging into battle, sword drawn.

  Alexandra bit her lip as Connor examined the figure from all sides, taking in the details.

  “It’s silly, I know, but you really are my knight in shining armor.”

  Connor gave her a slow, and very wide, grin. “I love it.” He kissed her sweetly and set the figure aside on the nightstand.

  “I suppose you’ll want yours now, too.”

  “I can wait.”

  “Well, I can’t.” He opened the top drawer and handed her a flat box wrapped in gold paper. She tore off the paper and opened the box, peeling back the tissue paper.

  “It’s beautiful.” She said, lifting a blue and red plaid scarf from the box. It also had some black and a faint, thin line of green or yellow as well. “It’s so soft.”

  “Proper Scottish lambswool.” He preened. She laughed and wrapped it around her neck. “That’s the MacLachlan tartan. My family’s been wearing it for ages and ages. Go have a look.”

  He encouraged her to the mirror above the dresser by virtue of a hand on her elbow. She admired the scarf in the mirror. “It is lovely, but am I allowed to wear it? I mean aren’t there rules against wearing a tartan that doesn’t belong to you or something?” She teased.

  “Not if you’re married to a MacLachlan.” He said casually. She turned, startled at his words, to find him on one knee, ring in hand, smiling and looking anxious all at once. It was more than she could possibly take. He was so adorable and she loved him so much. The tears came immediately and she could not stand him suffering even an instant of anxiety about this.

  “Yes!” She sank to her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissing him over and over again, on his cheek, his neck, his shoulder, anywhere and everywhere she could reach.