Reckless Endangerment (31 page)

“Me either.  Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Are you sure this is one of the guys who attacked you?” Marshall asked.

“I have a feeling…” She folded her arms over her chest and watched the taillights drive from the parking lot.  Beside her, Devon had already removed another camera from beneath the seat. 

“And that feeling tells you that we’re on the right track?” Marshall asked.

“It does.”  She rested her hand on Marshall’s forearm.  “Don’t let him see us.  I want to catch this guy in a criminal act.  I think it’s Gannon.”

“Same silver jag from this afternoon.”  Devon snapped a photograph of the license plate.

“Looks like he’s headed toward Cherry Creek,” Marshall muttered.  “It’s gotta be Gannon.”

She chewed the inside of her lip.  “Why would he do his own dirty work, though?”

“Less loose ends?” Devon offered as she kept filming the car. 

As they followed the Jag into Cherry Creek with its gated communities and high brick walls running along the streets, she knew this man was definitely the link she’d been searching for. 

When he pulled into a gated driveway, they stopped along side the road.  On impulse, she crawled over Devon and jumped from the truck.  She needed more. 

“What are you doing? He’ll see you,” Marshall said.

“I need to see his face, know for sure,” she said as she exited the car.

She jogged to the gate.  She saw the man exit his car, stop and look over his shoulder toward her.  Gannon.  It was him.  His motion lights gave her a clear view of the man who was threatening her stepson, her husband...the man who had shoved a gun up her dress and kicked her to the ground...the man who was trafficking sex slaves. 

She clenched her hands at her sides, hid in the shadows and fought back the anger that rolled through her like a hot wall of lava.   She smiled in the darkness when he hesitated before backing toward the house.  Maybe he couldn’t see her, but she felt certain that he could
feel
her there.  And the idea of him being afraid—even a little bit—satisfied her more than she could admit to anyone. 

* * * *

He jolted awake, hands twisting in the sheets at his side.  Sweat laced his body.  Lungs heaved for air.  Disorientated, he looked at the large bed, felt the soft sheets, heard the soft pattering of rain against the skylight, saw Dude staring at him from the doorway with his speckled ears perked up and eyes sharp.   

Hope’s loft.  Denver.  The United States.  He willed his pulse back to normal.  He had had this recurring nightmare for months.  But it was no dream.  It was a memory. 

“You okay?”  Her hand fell against his chest.  “Need a pill or something?”

He twisted his head against the pillow and blinked at her a few times before registering that she was real.  It hadn’t been a dream.  He was home in his bed with his wife.  For the first time in recent memory, reality surpassed fantasy.

“You’re home,” he whispered as he tried to regain his mental equilibrium. 

“Yeah, you and Dude were snuggling when I came home so I thought I’d let you be.”  Her sleepy smile reminded him of the early days.  “Do you need your meds?  I have no idea where I put that list Becky gave me.”

He smoothed his hands over the sheets again, noticing how soft they were.  It had been years since he’d been in a bed this comfortable with sheets like these and a woman like that.  Correction.  Until Hope, there hadn’t been a woman like that. 

Despite the pain rippling through his muscles, he grinned at the tangled mass of hair that fell around her bare shoulders, the sleepy look in her eyes, and the groggy sound of her voice. 

“You always want to give me a pill.  I think you’re obsessed with keeping me drugged,” he said.

“Seems like an easy solution to stop the screaming.”  She sat up, the sheet falling to her waist as she stretched her arms above her head and squinted toward the light filtering across the room from the windows and overhead skylight. 

“I was screaming?”  He liked watching her wake-up--naked, off-guard, softer, messy, and 100% his.  No one else vying for her time or attention.  Just the two of them.

“A nightmare, I think, but then it changed to something more like agony.”  She scrubbed a hand over her face before focusing on him.  “What do you need me to do?  Want me to rub your back?  Get your meds?  What?”

Morning sex seemed like too much to ask for when he hurt like hell and needed to somehow get himself to the bathroom.  Not exactly Mr. Romance at the moment, he sighed.  “I’ve missed seeing you first thing in the morning.  You’re much tamer.”

“Tamer?” Eyebrow arched, she smiled and slid a finger down the middle of his chest.  “I thought you liked my wild side.”

He caught her hand and held it against him.  “You know what I mean.  I don’t have to share you with anyone. I’m happy waking up with you again.  It’s good.”

She leaned over and kissed his shoulder before sliding her hand free.  She twisted away from him and felt around on the bedside table.  “I can’t believe it’s morning. I haven’t slept through the night in months...maybe even a year, I don’t know.  I didn’t even charge my phone...wasn’t thinking straight, I guess.”

He traced a finger down her bare back.  She stopped moving. 

“Don’t go,” he said.


“I’m not going anywhere...just...” She looked over her shoulder and sighed. “Sorry. You’re right.  I don’t know what time it is...no clock.  I use my phone for everything so...that’s all.  I wasn’t planning on leaving you.”

“Who cares what time it is?” he asked, even though he knew she cared very much about the time, her messages, and the story she chased.  But he didn’t want her to care about those things...not right now.  He wanted to be selfish and shut out the world for a little while longer. 

She looked away from him.  “How’s your pain?  Is there something I need to unpack for you? We didn’t even get that far last night, did we?  I jumped your bones before you even got settled.”

“I believe it was a mutual jumping.”  He grinned and slid his hand over her hip, gaze moving over her breasts.  Contentment rolled through him at the simplicity of it all.  Simple...what a concept.

“You are one sexy man, Colonel Cedars.”  She caught her lower lip between her teeth as her gaze slid over his chest. 

Dude surprised them both by leaping onto the bed, his speckled paws tangling in the sheets as he worked his way between them.  His whine reminded them both that it was time for his morning walk. 

“I’d better take him out,” she said as she slid out of the bed.

“Wait for me.  I want to go, too.”  His glance moved from his hip toward the edge of the bed, to his waiting wheelchair and stopped at the bathroom door.  He wondered when and if the smallest of tasks would ever stop seeming insurmountable. 

“I can—” 


“No.  I got it.  Just give me a minute.” 

With a smile, she strolled naked into the walk-in closet.  “Fine, then, Mr. Independent.  We’ll walk Dude to The Laughing Goat restaurant down the street for breakfast.  Sound good to you?  I know I’m skipping the shower, but...when Dude needs to go, he needs to go.  You’d better hurry up.”

He appreciated her not pushing her help onto him.  With a heavy sigh, he measured the distance between his hip and the edge of the bed.  The big, king-sized bed that had felt like heaven last night, but now seemed like an ocean.  Using his hands, he managed to get to the edge of the bed without as much trouble as he’d imagined.  Grinning, he moved his legs to the side.  He could definitely feel his right foot hit the ground.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked from where she stood at the foot of the bed, now dressed in a loose fitting T-shirt and yoga pants. 

He shook his head, not willing to confess the sensations he felt.  It was only one leg. 

“No more secrets, remember?”  She walked toward him as she twisted her hair into a loose ponytail.  “You feel more than you want to say, don’t you?  I saw the look on your face, the grin, the flash of surprise.  You stood when you got into my jeep yesterday...what don’t you want to tell me?”

“I stood for about thirty seconds, nothing to write home about.  It’s been a long five months, babe.  Really long.” 

She pushed her hand through his shaggy hair and grinned like a girl with a crush on a guy.  “But it’s not as hopeless as you wanted me to believe, is it?  Your self-pity finally coming to an end?”

“Self-pity, huh?  I’ve been a little pissed off at the world, but...okay.  Okay, maybe you’re right.”  He smiled, her grin contagious.

When he’d first met her, she’d asked if there was a woman waiting with a yellow ribbon wrapped around a tree.  He smiled now because he knew that, in her own way, she had been that woman for the past months.  He liked that idea.

The closet doors remained open.  From his view on the bed, he looked at his things hanging there.  She’d gone back to that city, that hotel room after he had carelessly tossed her away in Germany.  Alone.  Injured.  Scared.  Angry.  Determined.  She had not only done her job, but she’d packed and moved all of their things to this place.  He owed her more than he could ever fathom. 

“Oops...there you go again...back to sullen in under a second.”  She winked, turned her back on him and walked into the bathroom. 

He maneuvered into his chair with an ease he was strangely proud of and moved toward the bathroom just as she exited, teeth freshly brushed and a knowing grin on her face. 

“Hurry up,” she said as she passed.

“Nag.”

“Dude waits for no one.”  Again, she smoothed her hand over his hair.  “Damn, you’re one sexy man.  Love your hair longer like this, don’t you dare cut it.”

“Nag, so bossy, can’t believe I married you,” he said again, loving her for treating him like a man when everyone else had treated him like a patient. 

He closed the bathroom door, once again blown away by the upgrades she’d made expecting him to come home.  He brushed his teeth, took care of his morning routine, washed his face and exited with ease.  On his own.  In his own home.  

He hesitated in the closet, emotion quaking through his body.  He heard her flick on the morning news.  Dude whined.  She said something about waiting just one more minute. 

Freedom.  It had been so long since he’d tasted it and he’d envisioned his homecoming differently.  Walking, for one.  Being whole.  He rubbed his hands over his eyes and fought back the rapid mood swing headed his way.  No longer a Marine...not sure how to be a civilian anymore...standing, sure, but...damn it, he wanted to be the man she needed him to be.  No, that wasn’t true.  He needed to be the man he wanted himself to be and worried he had no clue who that was without the US Marine Corps. 

He’d noticed the hollowness behind her eyes, the weight she’d lost, and the tears she hid.  Hope needed him to be her husband.  She might be a badass, as she’d called herself earlier, but he knew she needed a soft place to fall from time-to-time.  He needed to be that for her...for Dalton...and for himself.

“We’re leaving if you’re not out here in a second...and if he has an accident, you’re the one cleaning it up, I swear,” she said.

He dressed in a faded pair of jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days.  He liked the feel of their worn fabric against his skin.  More than that, he enjoyed the freedom to do it on his own.  Maybe...just maybe...he hadn’t changed that much after all.  He smiled at the idea and shook his head.  He’d be damned if he’d admit that she’d been right all along. 

He heard her muffled phone conversation and grinned to himself as he moved into the living room.  Some things never changed, like her inability to stay out of trouble for long.  Unlike Becky, he loved that quality about his wife. 

Wife.  He sighed.  He’d been a damn fool for too long in trying to keep her away.  When she saw him, she slipped the cell phone into her messenger bag.

“Want to fill me in on where you sneaked off to last night?” he asked, noting the guilty expression on her face. 

Her gaze roamed over his face and down his body.  Without saying anything, she opened the door and waited for him to pass. 

“You okay, babe?”

“I guess I’m still adjusting to having you here.  You look...like my Michael again and...well, it still doesn’t feel real to me.”  She locked the many deadbolts before meeting his gaze. 

Dude barked as he scrambled toward the stairs, leash trailing on the floor behind him.

“Duty calls,” he said with a grin.  “Dude waits for no one.”

She ran after the dog and grabbed his leash before he made it to the stairs.  “Elevator today, boy.”

On cue, the elevator doors opened.  Becky and Warren stood there with their two boys, flanked by Dalton, Miles and Gwen.  Family.  All at once.  Ambushed.

“Going somewhere?” Becky asked when he and Hope simply stared with a wiggling dog between them.

“Dude needs a walk,” he said.
 “Desperately.  He’s waited a long time,” Hope added, her gaze locked on Dalton.