Heaven and Hell (43 page)

“Yep,” I looked away, “here we both
are.”

She took my hand and I looked back as she
whispered, “
Believe
, Kiakee.”

I stared into her eyes. Then I nodded.

Celeste and Thomas. Luci. Now Gitte. They
all wanted me to believe.

Maybe they saw something I did not. Maybe
Sam just needed more time.

Maybe I should just let my mental bullshit
go and believe.

We’d only been together a month. Only a
month. And he’d been screwed over repeatedly.

I needed to cut him some slack and
believe.

So to my nod, I added a smile.

She smiled back and let my hand go.

I took a sip of lemonade and in my head
whispered,
fearless.

I said it, I wanted to feel it and I tried.
But my headache was not going away.

Whatever.

It was just a headache. Eventually it would
fade.

Onward.

I made a decision.

“All right, sweetie, let’s call an end to
this. Load up the dregs in Dad’s truck, get to Paula and Rudy’s and
start the party.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gitte muttered, rolling
gracefully to her feet, I followed and moved toward the remaining
boxes.

* * * * *

“You okay?”

Sam and I (and Memphis) were in our room at
the Hyatt and he’d just tipped the bellman for bringing up our bags
on a trolley.

I’d let Memphis out of her doggie carrier.
She was exploring.

I was staring out the window at the amazing
view of the Capitol and the lights of Indy and I didn’t look at him
when I answered, “I can’t shake this headache.”

This was true. Missy had given me aspirin
and a couple of hours later Paula had given me ibuprofen. Neither
worked.

And I had a feeling I knew why.

Deciding to believe in Sam and in us, being
the dork I was, lasted around five minutes and started to melt away
when Sam walked out of the house with Lee and Tanner.

I was right. Those men were his hunters, Lee
Nightingale and Tanner Layne. He introduced them to me, my family,
my friends and then they helped load up the remaining boxes of
stuff in Dad’s truck. Then they politely declined invites to
Paula’s barbeque doing so with hot guy smiles that left all the
females staring (and Teri nearly drooling) and took off.

Since there wasn’t a lot of stuff, Sam and
Kyle didn’t have to haul any in Sam’s rental SUV or Kyle’s car,
only Dad had to make the trip. So Sam loaded up our suitcases, I
grabbed Memphis and we went right to Paula and Rudy’s. My car was
already stowed in Mom and Dad’s back shed so I went with Sam.

In the SUV, I’d asked, “So, what was with
the powwow?”

Sam’s reply?

“Later, baby.”

It was said gentle, sweet but still, it
upset me. As far as I knew, he hadn’t had a face-to-face with them
since we got there but I wouldn’t really know since he never told
me anything. They’d talked on the phone often but one thing I did
know was they had not approached the house. Not to mention, it
wasn’t one of them, it was both.

This made me think they had something
important to say.

And when Dad got to Paula and Rudy’s, I knew
they did because Sam left it for approximately two point five
minutes before he negotiated a private huddle with Dad and Kyle,
sans
me.

I’d let it go in the car because my head was
hurting even more and I had to keep a lock on my reaction because I
didn’t want to get emotional however that emotional might be,
either losing it and snapping at him or losing it and getting
teary.

After the huddle, even with my head still
throbbing, I’d picked my moment and caught Sam when we could be
alone.

“Is something up that I should know?” I
asked.

Again gentle and sweet, he lifted his hand,
cupped my jaw, his head dipped close and he whispered, “Now’s not
the time, honey. Later.”

Then he’d kissed my nose, his hand fell away
and then he moved away.

The good news was, he didn’t seem wired and
worried. Neither did my Dad and Kyle. In fact, studying my father
and brother, they seemed more at-ease then they’d been for
ages.

So, clearly, nothing dire had happened.

The bad news was, if it was nothing bad, I
didn’t get why Sam wouldn’t tell me.

As I stared out the window, I felt Sam fit
his body to the back of mine and his arms went around me. Then I
felt his jaw settle at the side of my head.

“Important day for you,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“It’s done,” he stated.

“Yeah,” I repeated.

His arms gave me a squeeze and didn’t let
go. He was quiet. So was I.

I waited for him to say something. We had
time. It wasn’t early, it wasn’t late. It was just us. Until we had
to be at the airport to check in our bags and Memphis for our
flight which didn’t leave until eleven, we had nothing to do but
be.

He didn’t say anything.

Neither did I.

But I felt my head start pounding.

Before I could figure out what to say, Sam
spoke.

“Get ready for bed, relax. I’m gonna take
Memphis down and give her a walk. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s her leash?”

“In my overnight bag.”

His jaw went away and his lips swept my
neck. Then he let me go.

I turned and watched him dig through my bag
and nab the leash. Memphis went mental at seeing it, Sam clipped it
on and then he gave me a smile and chin lift (Memphis gave me a
yap) and he was out the door.

I turned back to the window but I closed my
eyes against the view.

Everything Sam danced across the backs of my
eyelids. All of it, except what happened last night, was
beautiful.

I opened my eyes and stared at a view I knew
cost more than the average room, something else Sam gave to me
since he was paying for it, like everything else.

And seeing that view, knowing he knew I had
a headache so he was taking care of my dog, surmising that he was
giving me quiet time to reflect on my “important day”, thinking of
all that was him and that very day getting rid of everything that
had anything to do with the hell I’d lived in my years of Cooter, I
could not believe I wanted more.

But I couldn’t help it.

I did.

When it came to Sam, I wanted
everything.

And I was beginning to fear he wasn’t going
to give it to me.

Rangers

My headache was gone.

And without the throbbing, a yard sale, my
friends and family and with it being the next day, nothing but Sam
and me, waiting around, standing in line, hanging in departure
lounges (the swish ones where the rich and famous hung which was to
say where Sam hung and, now, me) and sitting on planes, I was no
longer confused and concerned and trying to talk myself into being
fearless.

I was pissed.

This was because Sam had plenty of
opportunity to bring up any of a variety of topics, first and
foremost whatever he spoke with Lee and Tanner about the day
before.

But he didn’t.

In fact, although still unfailingly
courteous and demonstrative with affection – holding hands, sitting
in the lounge with his arm slung around the back of my seat,
reading his
Sports Illustrated
on the plane with one hand
resting on my thigh – he was mostly quiet. He was doing that being
aware of his surroundings thing again, this likely because he could
not fly with a firearm and the bodyguard who was coming with us
(the other one was driving) who, unlike us, was flying coach and
couldn’t get into the rich and famous departure lounge, was also
unarmed and not with us the whole time.

Though I guessed this, obviously, since Sam
didn’t tell me he had any concerns.

I spent this time mostly thinking about
everything that crowded my head.

Then I spent it getting pissed about it.

Firstly, it was
my
life in danger and
I felt I should be kept apprised of that situation. Sure, I’d had a
tough time with Cooter. And sure, when Sam and I met I’d had my
fair share of dramas. But since Crete, I’d been me, moving onward,
dealing with things, getting on with life and doing all of this
totally drama free. Sam noticed everything, he had to have noticed
things had evened out for me and, if I did say so myself, I was
handling everything pretty freaking well.

Secondly, in the beginning I’d been clear
several times when I didn’t feel like sharing. But Sam didn’t
accept that. He pushed it and got what he wanted. When I pushed it,
he shut me out.

Rudely and hurtfully.

And he didn’t even mention that night,
turning his back on me, falling asleep at my side for the first
time since we were together without me tucked close. He didn’t
apologize. He didn’t explain. He just went on like it didn’t
happen.

And as our plane touched down in Raleigh, I
decided… no.

That was not acceptable.

I was not able to share my feelings with Sam
as a captive audience in a car however. This was because Sam’s
friend “Hap” was picking us up.

“Hap”, Sam had shared with me (a miracle!),
was an Army buddy who was still in the Army. Hap had dropped Sam
off when he went to Italy, Hap had looked after Sam’s house while
he was gone and Hap was picking us up.

And Hap, I suspected (though wasn’t told)
would be bringing Sam his hardware or carrying himself.

Hap’s nickname was short for Hap’s
other
nickname, “Happy”. Hap’s real name was George
Cunningham.

And, waiting for us at baggage claim, I
found Hap was a good-looking, five foot eleven,
brown-crew-cut-haired, smiley-brown-eyed mass of compact but bulky
muscle. So much of it, it had grown up his neck so he no longer had
one.

“Dude!” he’d shouted so loud several people
jumped and turned to look or, that was to say, those who weren’t
already staring at Sam started staring at all of us.

Then he treated Sam to a man hug that
included back pounding that was so hard I winced at the thuds. They
separated and Hap stepped back a foot then faked a one-two punch
combo to Sam’s body which Sam didn’t pretend to deflect, he just
grinned down at his friend.

Then Sam turned and started, “Hap, this is
–”

But he got no further, Hap’s dancing brown
eyes came to me and he finished for Sam, “Your seriously
fine
piece of ass.”

I blinked.

Sam tipped his head back to study the
ceiling.

Before I could recover and decide whether to
be amused or offended, two iron arms closed around me, I was lifted
clean off my feet and shaken about seven times.

“For fuck’s sake, Hap, put Kia down,” Sam
growled.

I landed on my flip-flops with a body
jarring thud but could not get away even though Hap’s arms went
from around me. This was because his hands clamped on my jaw and he
grinned huge in my face.

“Babe, you… are… seriously…
fine.
Shit!” he declared.

“Uh… thanks?” I couldn’t help it. It came
out as a question.

He didn’t answer. He let me go but didn’t
step back, only leaned back, doing a head-to-toe and back again
then he asked curiously, “Now, who would wanna take out a fine
piece of ass like this?”

As I suspected, Hap had been briefed.

“Bud, let it go once, that’s twice. There
won’t be a third time.” Sam was still growling but it wasn’t a
semi-amused, semi-annoyed growl. This one was full on annoyed.

Hap stepped back and tossed Sam a big
smile.

Then he looked back at me and stated, “Luci
says you’re not only not hard on the eyes but also you’re the
freakin’ shit.”

“That’s nice since I think the same way of
Luci,” I replied.

“Everyone does,” he told me. “When Gordo
landed her…” he trailed off and whistled, feeling this said it all
because he strangely (and crudely, I might add) went on with,
“Couldn’t even jack off to pictures of her anymore. Gordo could
sense that shit and he’d rip your dick off but he’d use your throat
to get to it.”

I wasn’t sure but I thought my mouth had
dropped open.

Hap finished with, “Sucked.”

“I, uh… bet,” I agreed.

“All right,” Sam got close and claimed me
with an arm around my shoulders, curling in and tucking me to his
hard side, “not sure you noticed but we’re in baggage claim, not a
locker room. And even if we were in a locker room, not feelin’
happy vibes you’re not checkin’ that shit around my woman. So, I’ll
say it once, be cool.”

“Dude, calm down,” Hap, apparently and
surprisingly unafraid of Sam’s tone, replied at the same time
pressing his hands down. “Kia and me, we’re just gettin’ the feel
of one another.”

“Since I got a choice, and I do, I’ll tell
you to give Kia a different feel for you, one that doesn’t make you
look like an asshole,” Sam returned.

Hap turned his unwavering grin to me. “He
wants me to make a good impression so you don’t think he’s a dick
because I’m a dick.”

“Yeah,” Sam concurred, “that’d be good.”

“He’s not a dick,” Hap assured me.

“I, um… kinda already noticed that,” I
replied.

Hap’s grin got bigger. Sam’s arm got
tighter.

“Me, the jury’s still out seein’ as I
haven’t nailed down a fine piece of ass like you or Luci,” Hap
shared.

“Just a bit of friendly advice, you want
one, you might want to stop calling us pieces of ass,” I shared in
return.

Hap smiled wide.

I couldn’t help it, this guy was so rough
around the edges he was jagged. Still, I liked him.

So I smiled back.

Luckily at this juncture the baggage claim
started rolling.

We got our bags, or, I should say, Sam and
Hap got our bags. I didn’t even carry my carry on and this was
because Hap divested me of it. Then we walked to the counter where
we could claim Memphis.