Enemy Within (Unseen Enemy Book 1) (12 page)

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, Dean.”

“It’s OK, angel. I understand.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ve got you now, and I’m not leaving.”

His lifted his hand off her head, and several strands of her hair came away with it. He froze.

Emma looked up at him. “What?”

“Oh, God. Did I hurt you when I pulled it out?”

“No. What are you talking about? Pulled what out?”

Wordless, he held his hand out to show her.

“Oh,” she said. Tears were in her eyes again. “Oh,
no
.”

She started to cry now, and he rocked her back and forth, murmuring to her. She clung to his t-shirt, listening to his heartbeat through the material. She’d give anything to be lying in his bed, relaxing on his chest after making love instead of lying in a hospital bed, her hair falling out around her. But Dean was with her, Dean was holding her, so it wasn’t all bad. It was OK.

**

Emma was released the next day. Dean took her back to his place and helped her up the porch steps. She saw the new front door and paused.

“You got a new door.”

“Yeah. I had to.”

“You had to? Why?”

Without warning, the door opened from the inside and Dallas stood there. A delicious smell rushed out to greet them as they gaped at his grinning face.

“That would be because of me, darlin’.” He took her overnight bag from Dean’s hand. “I kicked the damn thing in.”

Her brow was furrowed. “Why would you do that?”

“Rescue mission.”

Emma stared up at him. “Ummm. What?”

“Never mind, baby.” Dean helped her inside and sat her on the sofa. He turned his attention to Dallas and raised his eyebrows when he saw the pots boiling away on the stove. “What are you doing here, man?”

“What’s it look like, you fool? I’m cooking.”

“You don’t cook,” Dean pointed out.

“I
do
cook,” Dallas corrected him. “I just don’t cook
very often
since I have nobody to cook
for
. But I knew y’all were coming home today, and I wanted Emma to have something to eat.”

“Oh, Dallas.” Emma smiled at him. “Thank you, but I’m really not hungry.”

“Yeah, I get that. But I did lots of research and you need to start taking better care of yourself, hon. When you get your bone marrow transplant, you’ll have to be strong enough to recover well.” He nodded at his laptop that was open on the coffee table. “I found a bunch of soup recipes and I’ve made three different kinds. What do you want to try first? Chicken noodle, tomato with rice, or mushroom with beef?”

They both stared at him.

“What?” Dallas said. “I know hot soup in the summer isn’t awesome, but I was thinking it may be all you can handle right now, Emma. I made sure to make soups with some bulk, you know, and lots of veggies, but if it’s too much, you can at least drink the broth, right?” He paused, a bit unnerved at the continued silence. “Um. You don’t like soup?”

“Come over here, Dallas,” Emma said quietly.

Unsure, he walked over to the sofa. Slowly, Emma got to her feet and he looked down at her. It surprised him when she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Mindful of her fragility, he gently returned the hug, his eyes meeting Dean’s over Emma’s head.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Dean nodded.

“It’s no problem, hon.” He traced large circles on her back, soothing her a bit. “No problem at all.”

She pulled back. “So… I’ll have the tomato, please.”

“Good choice,” Dallas said. “Dean? You want some?”

“Yeah. I’ll try the beef.”

“
Also
a good choice.”

They sat at Dean’s kitchen table, eating, chatting easily. Dallas watched her closely, saw how her cheeks rosied up a bit as she ate. He knew that she may well not be able to hold the food down later, but for now, it was doing her lots of good.

She glanced up at him. “Hey, Dallas?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now.”

“Shoot, darlin’.”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious you’re from Texas…”

“Guilty as charged. Born and raised in Dallas.”

“And I was wondering – is your name
really
Dallas? Like your birth name? Or is it a nickname?”

“Oh, boy,” Dean said.

“What?” Emma asked. “Touchy subject?”

“Sort of.” Dallas shrugged. “I hate my real name – like fucking
despise
it. When I joined the forces, everyone got a nickname and Dallas was mine. Never let anyone tell you that us military boys are even
slightly
creative.”

She laughed.

“So, it’s my name now. Suits me way better than my birth name, I assure you.”

“I get it,” she said and she turned to Dean. “What was your nickname?”

“Uh-oh.” Dallas stood up. “Time for me to go now.”

“What? Why?”

Dean was bright red. “Uh, well. My nickname was in reference to… uh. To – to the number of women I went home with.”

She studied him. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So… better that I not know?”

“Oh, for sure, darlin’.” Dallas picked up her empty soup bowl and set it in the sink. “For
damn
sure. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss. Trust me on this one.”

Chapter Eleven

A week later, Dean knocked on the apartment door, looking up and down the long hallway. It was a damn nice building – bright lobby downstairs, twenty-four-hour security guards, lots of expensive-looking potted plants, fresh flowers on the tables outside the elevators. He was almost beside himself to see what Emma’s home looked like.

She opened the door and they smiled at each other.

“Hey,” she said. “Welcome to
my
place, just for a change, right? Come on in.”

He set his overnight bag on the floor and took her in his arms. “How you doing, honey?”

“Better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. Good night’s sleep last night.”

He gave her a kiss then stepped back. “Alright, Emma. Give me the grand tour of this place.”

It was a big apartment for just one person, and as he looked around, Dean got the sense of how much money she must have been earning before she got sick. The living room space was open and warm; the kitchen was large and had all kinds of shiny gadgets on the counters. Her espresso machine was a thing of beauty and Dean admired the huge windows everywhere. Her balcony had an amazing view of the Rockies and she had a small table out there and lots of comfy chairs. Her bedroom was huge and had an ensuite bathroom, she had a good-sized guestroom. She even had an extra office space for private clients. It was overflowing with books about psychology, and her numerous degrees were framed and hanging on the walls.

“So
this
is why you never wanted me to stay over here, huh?” he said.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Hardly a PA’s apartment, right? Plus, I kind of thought the psychology books and diplomas might give me away.”

He shook his head. “Jesus, we wasted so much time with all the cloak-and-dagger stuff, didn’t we?”

“My fault.”

“Nope.
Both
of ours. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, right? No more secrets.”

Emma looked at him. “But that’s not totally true, is it? I still have one more thing to explain to you.”

He knew exactly what she was talking about. “Emma, you don’t have to. I don’t need to know what happened five years ago. It doesn’t matter, OK?”

The kettle whistled and she moved to the kitchen to make some green tea.

“I know, babe,” she said. “But I
want
to tell you, I
want
you to know… is that OK?”

“You sure?”

“I am.”

“OK, then. Tell me.”

“I’ll make the tea, you go sit.” She pointed her chin at the living room table. “Jenny brought over a bunch of food about an hour ago, so help yourself.”

“Oh, awesome. That woman can
cook
, huh?”

“Damn right she can. That’s why the restaurant is called ‘Jenny’s’.”

Dean filled a plate and then settled on to her massive sofa and took a deep breath. Her home was just so calming and friendly; it was just like Emma, he thought. Elegant and polished, sure, but not the slightest bit off-putting, despite the obvious wealth.

She came to him now and he stood to accept the tea. They sat down together and he waited, knowing that whatever it was she had to tell him, he wasn’t going to like it.

Emma sipped her tea, trying to think how to begin.

God, how to explain about Mark?

“I had just broken up with a guy back then. Mark. We met at college, and we were together for three years. It was pretty serious – we lived together – but I couldn’t totally commit to him. He had bad depression when we met so I knew what I was getting in to, but it just got worse over time. Even though he was a psychologist, he refused to take medication and he refused therapy, and no matter what I did or suggested, he said no. I stuck it out for a long time, as long as I could, then I had to break it off when he started self-medicating with alcohol. It was – it was getting dangerous.”

“He hurt you?”

“No. Mark never laid a finger on me, not ever. But it was heading that way, you know? I could tell that the anger and confusion was all building inside him, and it was just a matter of time before it all came bursting out and landed on me. I mean, his rages were terrifying, his days and days of lying and bed not talking were terrifying in a different way. I had to get out.”

“Did you?”

She sighed. “Yes. I left him. And he killed himself.”

Dean was sure that he had heard her wrong. “He what?”

“He shot himself in the head.”

Dean stared at her. “Oh, baby… I’m so sorry.”

“He called me right before he did it. He begged me to come over to talk, and even though he’d done that for weeks and I kept saying no, I finally agreed. I had no intention of going back to him, but I thought one final conversation might help him.” She set down her cup of tea as her hands trembled. “He was dead by the time I got there. He must have hung up the phone with me and pulled the trigger almost right away. He was still warm when I arrived at his place.”

“He wanted you to be the one to find him,” Dean said slowly. “He made sure of it.”

“Yes. He wanted to punish me.”

Dean closed his eyes, not wanting to imagine what she had walked in on. He had seen dozens of head shots in his life, and they were always unspeakably traumatic. The thought that Emma had found Mark like that hurt and infuriated him.

“So as you can imagine, I was a mess afterwards,” Emma said. “I just – I couldn’t get in to a relationship again, and I didn’t trust myself as a girlfriend, you know? I felt like I should have done so many things differently with Mark and for Mark, but I didn’t have a clue what they were. The guilt was so overwhelming at one point, and I couldn’t get past it. Then I got really busy with work and I took on more and more patients, and… well… I kind of forgot about my personal life.”

“Until now.” Dean touched her face.

“Until now. And my timing kind of sucks, huh? I wait for a cancer diagnosis to get my crap together with a good man.”

“It happens, baby. Good things at bad times, what we need comes to us when we’re fighting the fact that we need it.”

“Yeah. That’s all true. Such is life, right?”

“Right.” He smiled at her. “You doing OK now? About Mark, I mean. You know that what happened had nothing to do with you?”

“I do. I mean, I always did, but it was one of those situations where you know something in your head but you feel something else inside. Sometimes it takes a while for your head and heart to get in sync.” She smiled back. “Otherwise known as the human condition.”

“Uh-huh. And one of the reasons that you get to live in this amazing apartment… that dilemma keeps your client list full, I bet.”

“Not lately, it doesn’t.”

“You miss it?” he asked. “Your work?”

“I do. I really do. It was valuable, making a difference to people’s lives in that way.”

“You’ll get back to it, Emma. When this is all over.”

She looked up at him, and tried to stay as positive as he was. “Yeah, you’re right. When this is all over.”

They were both silent.

“Hey,” she said, eager to change the subject. “Speaking of work: what’s happening with extending the lease on the tattoo parlour?”

Dean sighed in frustration. “The landlord just won’t agree to a meeting with me. I’ve been trying for two weeks now.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“The fucker’s playing with me. He’s holding it over my head that the contract is up in less than a month now, and if we don’t sort this all out in time, I’ll have to move.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“No. I love where we are, and moving is always risky after you’ve only been in a place for a couple of years, like I have. I’m finally getting established, so moving now is a bad idea.”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

“Anyway, I’m hoping that it’ll all be OK. Jim and I are scouting some new locations if it comes to that, but I’m hoping that it doesn’t. The landlord finally proposed a meeting time on Friday afternoon.”

“This Friday?”

“Yeah. I’m going to turn it down, though.”

“Why? He finally agrees to meet and you say no?”

He gave her a kiss. “Because, angel, that’s the day of your next round of blood tests at the hospital clinic and I want to be there to bring you home.”

“Oh. Oh, no need. Blood tests are easy and if I feel dizzy or weak after, I can always jump in a taxi.”

“No way. You’re not going to worry about getting yourself home after. OK?”

“Well, I’ll ask one of the girls, then.”

“You can’t. Liv is away later this week, remember? Kat has that charity fashion show on Friday so she’ll be there getting the models ready, and Jenny’s catering that wedding party, so she needs to be at her restaurant all day. None of them are free.”

Emma stared at him, her mouth open. “God, Dean. You’ve got their schedules memorized?”

He grinned. “Yep. We all know where each other are going to be all the damn time. Just making sure we’ve got things covered for you.” He thought for a second. “I’ll see if Dallas can come and get you, OK? I think he’s available that day.”

“Thanks, Dean.” She reached for him. “It means a lot, you know.”

“I know, baby. You mean a lot, too. To all of us.”

**

Emma smiled at Dallas as he stepped off the hospital elevator. “Hi, Dallas.”

“Hey, darlin’,” he said. “You doing OK?”

“Yeah. I’m glad to be leaving.”

“The blood tests all went alright?’

“Yeah. Just a bit tiring.”

He took in her pallor and the dark smudges under her eyes. “I’ll just bet. So, you all done here? Free as a bird?”

“Yeah. I have to go out to the parking lot in this wheelchair, though.”

“Sure thing,” he said. “Let’s go.”

He rolled her carefully out in to the cool early-autumn air and watched as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The weak sun touched her face, gave her a bit of a glow.

Shit. She’s really fading.

He opened the car door and gently lifted her to her feet. She swayed and he held on to her.

“Emma? You OK?”

Her eyes were closed, her fingers grasping his strong forearms. “Yeah. Just dizzy.”

“OK, don’t move, hon. Wait for it to pass.”

They stood for a minute and then Emma looked up into Dallas’ worried blue eyes. “I’m OK, Dallas. Really.”

He nodded and settled her in to the car. He buckled her up and shut the door.

“OK,” he said and started the engine. “So let’s get you back to Dean’s place.”

“I – what?” she asked. “I’m going to my apartment, aren’t I?’

He shook his head. “Nope. You’re staying with Dean for the next few days, OK? When he’s not there, I’ll keep an eye on you and your friends will be dropping by every day.”

“So the girls know about this?”

He flashed her a grin. “The arrangements have their full knowledge
and
blessing.”

“Oh,” she said. “I hear that you guys are all talking to each other now, right?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Between the seven of us, I figure we can keep everything under control. You don’t need to worry about anything. We got it.”

She stared at him and then suddenly, tears were spilling down her cheeks. He started.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

He slid a bit closer, touched her arm. “Emma, what? Talk to me, OK?”

“Nothing. I’m just – sometimes it hits me just how grateful I am to you and your friends. You don’t even really know me, but I couldn’t get through this without all of you at this point.”

“We care about you, hon, and that’s just the end of it. Whatever you need – you just ask. Me and Chris and Jim would move heaven and earth to get it for you. You hear me?”

She smiled. “Yeah. And I know that my friends appreciate you guys being here, too. Even if they don’t say it to your faces.”

“Well,” he said. “I know they certainly appreciate all the coffee and doughnuts we haul all over Denver, to wherever they are. Especially Liv. I’ve never met
anyone
who goes through coffee the way that woman does and I hang out with Rangers and bodyguards and black-ops guys.”

Emma laughed now, her face brightening.

Relieved, Dallas gently touched her hand. “OK?”

“OK,” she said.

He moved back to his side and slid the car in to gear. “We’ll be home in ten minutes, Emma. Just relax.”

**

Dallas looked up as Dean came in to the house. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Dean peeled off his jean jacket. “Thanks for picking her up. I just couldn’t turn down that fucking meeting with the landlord. Thank God we signed the lease today – that’s over and I can focus on Emma again.”

Dallas waved his hand. “No problem picking her up. Any time you need some backup, just ask.”

“How is she?”

“She’s wiped out, man. I helped her in to bed and she’s been sleeping for three hours now.”

“She eat anything?”

“No. I tried, but she said she wasn’t hungry.”

Dean nodded and went down the hallway to the bedroom. He walked in quietly and looked at Emma curled up in his bed. She was pale, she had purple rings under her eyes, and her delicate eyelids looked almost blue. He stood very still for almost a full minute, just staring down at her, listening to her breathe, then he gently touched her cheek. He closed the door halfway and went back to the living room.

“You want to stay for a beer?” he asked Dallas.

“Already got one,” Dallas said from the sofa. “Thanks.”

He drank his beer and watched Dean in the kitchen, not liking what he saw. The man was a walking nerve end, no doubt about it, stretched and strained. He’d seen Dean in life-and-death situations and he had always kept his cool, even when the bullets were flying. Dean had led his men out of danger and kept countless civilians safe, and his heart rate had barely accelerated. His Rangers training had exposed him to everything he had needed to walk in to the worst hells that Afghanistan had to offer and keep it together.

But this whole thing with Emma was a whole different kind of stress. No amount of combat training or number of intensive firefights had prepared Dean for watching the woman that he cared about go through this. It was terrifying to contemplate that Dean had had more control over hostile situations in Afghanistan than he did over what was happening in his own house.