Deserve (22 page)

Why hasn’t Sean pushed to tell
Cael
about us? Is he starting to get bored?

“Hot Tamales, I’ll see you next week.” Todd twists around to
smile at me.

I blink, waking up to the fact that we’ve arrived at Sean’s
building. “Oh. Thanks for the ride. See you next week!” Blowing them both a
kiss, I slide out of the car.

When I enter the apartment, I’m not surprised Sean isn’t
back yet. His schedule is erratic, especially when he needs to go to a crime
scene at an ungodly hour. With the exception of the week he took off, he also puts
in an insane amount of hours at work. It’s only over the last month that he’s
gotten better.

I start to make dinner. Knowing the unpredictability of his
job, I’ve stuck to recipes that can be reheated easily—casseroles and
stews. Tonight it’s going to be a pot of chili and a pan of cornbread. After
turning the heat down low, I curl up on the sofa and open up my physiology
textbook. I lose track of time until I hear the snick of the front door.

Lifting my eyes from my book at his entrance, I smile at how
gorgeous he looks. His hair has darkened to a honey-gold in the winter, but his
tanned skin has remained, hinting at an interesting ancestry. His body, toned
from daily morning runs, is all lean muscle under his dark gray suit. As he
meets my gaze, his lips tilt up, sending my pulse skittering crazily.

He hangs up his coat and stalks over to me. His cobalt blue eyes
flaring with heat, he bends down and says huskily, “I love seeing you here, all
warm and cuddly, waiting for me.”

Pleasure fills me, followed a beat later by disappointment.
It isn’t the declaration of love I have been yearning to hear, but I tell
myself it’s still progress. A month ago, this man would never have admitted to
such a sentiment.

Before I can respond, he closes the few inches between us
and takes my mouth. No matter how many times he kisses me, it always sends my
senses into a tailspin and I get sucked into the sensual delight of his mouth.
My book drops to the floor and I clutch onto his lapels to bring him closer.

When my lungs are burning, he finally breaks away. He rubs
his nose against mine and my heart liquefies.

“Mom used to give me Eskimo kisses,” I say, a distant memory
surfacing.

His expression grows nostalgic and after kissing my nose, he
sits down next to me. I place my head in the crook of his shoulder and he
strokes my arm in comfort. “It’s still hard to imagine she’s gone.”

Fighting the prickle of tears, I nod with a sad sigh.
“Yeah.”

“She used to sneak into the room to check on us when she
thought
Cael
and I were asleep. She’d make sure my
sleeping bag was zipped up and then she’d touch the top of my head and say
something in Gaelic. Rah something.”

“
Rath
D
é
Ort,”
I say with a smile.

“Yes! I never could ask
her what she said because then I’d have to confess I was pretending to be asleep.”

The pulse of amusement in
his voice makes one corner of my mouth kick up. “It means God’s blessings on
you.
One of my mom’s old Irish sayings.
She was modern
in many ways, but she clung on to some of the traditions. For Halloween, or
Samhain
as she called it, she’d always bake us
barmbrack
. Have you ever had it?”

“No. What is it?”

Letting the good memories
wrap around me like old friends, I snuggle closer and tell him about the little
rituals my mom passed on to us. Other than with
Cael
,
I hardly talk about my mom because it’s too painful, but now I find myself
laughing at some of the superstitious things she made us do.

When my stomach growls, I
stop, surprised I have been talking for so long. Twisting around, I look deeply
in his beautiful eyes and say, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

For bringing out my happy memories.
For being infinitely patient.
For being such an amazing man.
Remembering what he said to me
once, I murmur, “For being you. I love you.”

I adore it when his smile
starts in his eyes, knowing that it comes from within. I try not to let it hurt
when he doesn’t respond to my words of love, but when our lips meet in the
sweetest kiss we’ve ever shared, slow and lingering, I feel like he is telling
me how much I mean to him. Reluctantly ending the kiss, I stand up and tug him
toward the kitchen, ready to appease my rumbling stomach.

Working together, we ladle
the chili in bowls and serve up the cornbread.

“Thanks for making dinner.
This looks delicious.” Placing glasses of water in front of our food, Sean sits
down across from me.

“You’re welcome.” I smile shyly.
“Oh! I bumped into Leslie and her son, Mac, at the hospital today. It’s too bad
I didn’t get to meet James. Oh
my gosh
, Mac is the cutest
little boy,” I gush. “I got to hold him and when we were about to leave, he
didn’t want to let go. And neither did I. Leslie said he took a liking to me
and invited us to have dinner with them so I can see him again.”

At the loud clang of metal
hitting ceramic, I glance up to see Sean’s face pull taut with tension. His
hands are curled into tight fists on the table.

“Sean, is something wrong?”
I glance down at the chili, wondering if I had gone overboard with the spices.

“We’re
not going,” he bites out, his jawline a steel beam.

Taking aback by his curt
tone, I cock my head in askance. “Why not? I thought they were your friends.”

He pushes away the bowl
and growls, “I’ll call Leslie and turn down the invitation.”

Getting more bewildered by
the moment, I ask carefully, “I don’t understand. Is there a reason why you
don’t want to see them?”

A look I can only describe
as panic crosses his face as he stands up, the chair almost upending in his
haste. “I’m going to take a shower. I’m not that hungry.”

Alarm and irritation
commingle as I stand up. “Sean, talk to me.”

Running his fingers
impatiently through his hair, he refuses to make eye contact with me. “There’s
nothing to talk about.”

My lips tighten in
aggravation and hurt at how he’s shutting me out. This isn’t the first time
he’s refused to talk about James. “There obviously is or you wouldn’t be
avoiding your friends.”

“I’m not avoiding them,”
he says, his voice rising in agitation.

“Fine. Don’t go. I’ll go
by myself,” I say in irritation.

A cold, hard glint appears
in his eyes, making me uneasy. “Why are you so insistent on going?”

“I like Leslie and Mac and
I’d like to meet James. I want to get to know your friends,” I explain in a
soft timbre. There are so many facets of this man I haven’t seen and I want to
know
him, inside and out.

“Well I don’t want you to
know my friends.” Each word comes out of his mouth like the lash of a whip.
Sharp. Cutting.

It takes a second for his
meaning to sink in and when it does, I stumble back in shock. The harsh-faced
person in front of me can’t be the same man who held me tenderly and listened
to me talk about my mom not five minutes ago. I blink rapidly to relieve the
burning in my eyes and try to clear the lump in my throat. I don’t bother
asking why because there is no answer he can give
me which
won’t worsen the pain.

Was he ashamed of me?

Remembering
Cael’s
remarks about Sean’s short-lived relationships, I
feel a wave of nausea wash over me. Why bother introducing me to his friends if
he thought the relationship would be over soon.

“I see,” I say through
stiff lips, although I don’t see a damn thing.

“Fuck! That’s not what I
meant.” Looking tormented Sean reaches for me, but I back out of his reach.

Rushing to the living room
to pick up my textbook, I babble, “I’m not hungry either. I need to study for
finals. I’ll probably be pulling an all-nighter so don’t wait up for me.”

“Maggie!” In a few
strides, he reaches me and clasps my upper arms. “I’m sorry. Forget I said
anything. I’ll call Leslie and let her know we can do dinner next week.” He
smiles, but I know it’s fake because his eyes are as cold as a Siberian winter.

Dropping my gaze to the
cover of my book, I shake my head. “It’s okay. I have finals for the next
couple of weeks anyway.”

He pulls me in for a hug
and instead of melting into him like I normally would, I let the book keep us a
foot apart. Lips grazing my temple, he whispers, “Angel, please forgive me. I’m
sorry.”

The sincerity and remorse
in his voice cannot be denied and I gather my courage to ask the question I
dread the answer to. “Sean, if you don’t think you
want
…”
I swallow against the stone in my throat and finish the rest of the sentence in
rapid-fire speed. “To continue with our relationship—”

Panic and denial fill his
eyes before he slams his mouth over mine to cut off my words. The kiss is
frenzied and desperate and he doesn’t relent even when my breath is coming in
fast bursts through my nose. He pulls away until a bare inch separates us and
whispers fervently, “No!
Goddamn it
,
don’t ever think that
. I want this. If you want to see
Leslie, we’ll go tomorrow night.”

Relief makes my limbs weak
and I cling onto his arms to hold me upright, but I can’t forget his violent
reluctance to see his friends. And to them meeting me.
Give him time, Maggie.
“No, it’s okay. Let me get through finals
and then we’ll talk.”

His body relaxes at the
reprieve and another burr of doubt latches under my skin, adding to the
collection already hooked into my flesh. Most days I can pretend they’re not
there, but when they are activated, they send doubt shooting through my
bloodstream like a poisonous toxin.

“Come on. Finish eating
before you head upstairs to study.” He tugs me toward the kitchen table.

“Only if you eat with me.”

“Of course.”

Another fake smile and my
heart
squeezes
with misgiving. I hate it when he puts
on his mask in front of me. Others may not be able to see the subtle
differences between his private self and his public self, but to me, they may
as well be two different people. Other than on a few rare moments, Sean doesn’t
wear his public mask in front of me and I despise seeing it.

After a quiet dinner, I go
into the guest bedroom and force my brain to concentrate on my studies instead
of dwelling on our almost-fight, but in the back of my mind, the questions
continue to run in circles with no answers.

In the small hours of the
morning, I sleepily note that Sean is carrying me into our bedroom. I must have
nodded off at my desk again. Murmuring softly to me, he strips me out of my
clothes and tucks me into bed, right next to him.

Tears threaten at how
tenderly he holds me. In these moments, I feel so cherished that it’s all too
easy to forget the times he puts a wall between us. I snuggle closer to his
warmth, all the while knowing in my heart that I can’t continue to be an
emotional yo-yo.

I force my muscles to relax so that I don’t crush her in my
arms. My impulse is to keep a death grip on
her,
afraid she’s slipping away from me.

Yeah, you almost lost
her, you dumbass.

But that dark insidious voice hisses:
You’re going to lose her sooner or later.

In the back of my mind,
there is a ticking
time bomb, counting down the weeks, days, minutes, seconds
,
I have left with her
.

Tick tock.

In order to disarm the bomb, I have to untangle myself from
the fucked-up mess of my life, but one wrong step and everything will explode
in my face.

There’s the upcoming visit from
Cael
over Christmas. How was he going to react to all the things I had been hiding
from him?
The attack on his sister.
Having a
relationship with her behind his back.

The situation with her attacker seems to be coming to a
head. When I made a call to Leslie to chew her out about manipulating me, she
apologized sheepishly and informed me that Hannah Michaels would be coming out
of her induced coma soon. My first reaction was relief. If Michaels remembered
who attacked her, Maggie would be safe. Then it was followed by panic because I
wanted an excuse to keep her close for a bit longer.

I’m such a bastard.

And then there was James. The surge of dread at Maggie
meeting him and coming that much closer to my secret shame had me lashing out
and hurting the one person I never want to hurt.

I press my face into her hair, taking in her sweet scent and
warmth. The four nights I was without her over Thanksgiving had been hellish
and I can’t imagine not having her here.
In my bed.
In my arms.

Tick tock.

***

When my life falls apart, it does so swiftly and in spec-fucking-
tacular
fashion.

It starts with a phone call from Leslie on Friday morning.

“Sean, Hannah Michaels is awake.”

My back stiffens and I lean forward. “And?”

“She doesn’t remember the attack.”

My stomach drops.

“The doctors say it’s not unusual for the mind to block out
traumatizing events. The good news is she remembers everything else. She
remembers breaking up with her boyfriend earlier in the day because he was
cheating on her. The guy lied about being out of town for work. He probably
lied about everything else. My guys are looking for him right now. I’m going to
enjoy my little talk with Mr. Calvin Poole.” There’s a note of fiendish
anticipation in her voice.

“Thanks, Leslie. Keep me posted.”

“Will do. FYI, I already called Maggie and left her a
message.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.” Glancing at the clock, I note
that Maggie’s still in class. I try to concentrate on my work until I can reach
her. The last five days have been strained between us and I don’t know how to
fix it. The only time we seem to be able to communicate is when we’re in bed
together, but as soon as I stop touching her, I sense her drifting away.

The second blow comes from left field.

In the afternoon, Marc leans against my desk, his face
funereal. “Sheena Lewis left the safe house and dodged her escort.”

“What the fuck?” I explode out of my chair. “She’s the only witness
we have for the case. Without her, we’re up shit creek.”

“Yeah, I know. I think someone’s spooking her.”

“You think Carmona’s goons are behind this?” Anger and
disgust fill me at the thought of the sick fuck and his equally psychotic minions.

Shoulders drooping wearily, Marc sighs. “That would be my
guess. Nobody has seen her since yesterday morning.”

“Shit!”

“Give her a call. If you can’t get her to check in, nobody
can,” Marc urges.

I sit down and call Sheena, but her number goes to voicemail.
Deliberately gentling my voice to a non-threatening timbre, I say, “Hey Sheena.
It’s Sean Rowan. Give me a call when you get this. I’m checking in to see how
you’re doing. I’m worried about you. Let’s talk.” I hang up and try another
number. After leaving the same message, I look at Marc in frustration.

I stand up and grab my jacket. My gut is telling me
something is off with her. “Let’s go. I have a bad feeling. We need to find
her.”

His brown eyes somber, Marc shrugs into his holster. “I
already checked for her at her apartment, at her boyfriends’—both of
them, at her mom’s, and at her sister’s.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to sort through what I know about
her. “There’s one more place we need to check.”

But we don’t find Sheena at her sometime pimp’s apartment
either. Roderick swears he hasn’t seen her for weeks and when he proceeds to
complain about the money she owes him, I’m inclined to believe him. We return
to her apartment again, but nobody answers the door and there is no sound from
inside. Neither of her neighbors
have
seen her either.

“Motherfucker,” Marc says as soon as we get in the car.

“Fucking son-of-a-bitch,” I join in viciously under my
breath, feeling like everything is spiraling out of my control.

Ring.

An unknown number.
“Rowan, here.”

“Sean, it’s Sheena.” She sounds scared out of her mind. I
hold a hand up to tell Marc to stay silent and he leans over to listen in.

“Sheena.” I infuse calm confidence into my voice. “Where are
you?”

“I can’t tell you or he’s going to come after me.”

“Who?”

“Bleed,” she whispers the nickname of Carmona’s second-in-command,
a man known for his perverted skills with his
karambit
knife.

“When did he talk to you, Sheena?” I ask urgently. “Tell me
where you’re at and I’ll send a car for you. We’ll put you in another safe
house.”

“I can’t.” She lets loose a series of wrenching sobs. “He
says if I testify, he’s going to kill my family, one by one, by carving his
initials into their organs. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk their lives. And
detective, he told me to send you a message. Watch your back.”

Click.

“FUCK!” I barely restrain myself from smashing my phone onto
the dashboard.

Marc looks pale under his olive skin. “Jesus Christ. That
fucking psychopath.”

Teeth clenched with rage at Bleed’s threats, I turn the
engine. “We’re going to find him and deliver our own message.”

Mark nods curtly in agreement, but after four hours of
searching the
neighborhood,
we can’t find any of the
known gang members, even the two-bit hangers-on. We head back to the office and
I make some calls to my street contacts, putting out the word that I’m looking
for the gangbanger.

I scrub my face, feeling like I’ve aged two years today.
“I’m going to go home now.”

“Sean, watch your six,” Marc says, lines of concern etched
on his forehead.

“I will, but I’m not going to let some megalomaniac stop me
from putting Carmona away.” This is not the first time I’ve received threats to
drop a case and it won’t be the last.

Terror flashes through me at the possibility of Maggie being
targeted, but my pulse calms when I remember we’ve kept the relationship
secret. I make a mental note to talk to Bo about stepping up his surveillance.

“Neither am I, but don’t do anything stupid. There’s a
reason nobody’s caught Bleed up to this point,” Marc warns.

“Yeah, I’ll be careful.”

When I walk to my car, I fan out my senses, seeking any
disturbance in my surroundings. Many may dismiss it as hoodoo, but most cops
and soldiers swear they can feel an electrical charge in the air when they are
in danger. Throughout my career, my gut has saved me numerous times, but I’m
not picking up anything right now.

As soon as I walk in and see Maggie standing in the kitchen,
my muscles loosen in relief. She must have sensed my need for her touch because
when I stalk up to her and draw her into my arms, she sinks into me with a soft
sigh. Her hands massage the back of my neck, loosening up the tension and I
release a deep breath.

This is exactly what I need.

“Leslie called today.”

“About Poole?” I ask.

“Uh-huh.” She tilts her head to look up at me.
God, she’s so beautiful.
“So you’ve
heard?”

“The case is still open, Maggie, so don’t let your guard
down. As far as I know, he’s not even in custody yet.”

“You don’t think
it’s
Calvin?” she
asks.

“Do you remember anything about that night that would
pinpoint him as the
perp
?”

She scrunches her nose and then shakes her head. “No. It was
too dark and I never saw his face. It could have been anyone.”

I sigh. “Until he makes a full confession, I’m going to
assume the attacker is still out there and you need to do the same.”

Worry lines marring her forehead, she nods. “I’ll be
careful.”

Nuzzling my nose into her neck, I let her essence soak into
me.

“How was work?”

I open my mouth to tell her about my case, but I discard the
idea almost immediately. We already have enough outside forces straining our
relationship. “Fine,” I say, keeping my tone even.

She almost looks disappointed by my answer, but before I can
examine her expression, she turns back to the stove. “That’s good. Dinner
should be ready soon.”

Staring at her back, I sense her pulling away and I can’t
figure out how to bridge the distance.