Jake (A Redemption Romance #2) (14 page)

Jake

Trudging through the week without Hope was truly a week without hope, in the purest sense of the word. I hated being without her. Hated knowing that I’d pushed her away, with my anger and by my betrayal. No, I hadn’t betrayed her by lying or cheating or some other egregious act, but I had kept something so important from her. I’d kept the knowledge of another threat from her.

She was right, knowledge, her knowledge, was power and she needed to feel powerful. She desperately needed to feel in control of her own life. I had an inherent need to control, but more than that, I had a desperate need for Hope.

She allowed me to control her, to dominate her in bed. She gave me vast control over her, ceding to me in matters of her safety and even what we did for fun. She, however, needed to know what was going on around her. She needed to know that she could handle any situation alone, if she needed to.

It was my goal that she never would need to again. I realized in this week without Hope, that I loved her, I loved her more than I had ever imagined loving a woman. I needed her, the sweet smell of her hair, the softness of her skin and the melodic sound of her voice. She was vital to me, but I needed to make myself vital to her as well.

I had to be the man she needed me to be. I needed to lay down the guilt, the anger and the frustration that had been brewing in my soul for the past four years and grow into a whole and complete man, for her – and for me.

Why was I so dark, so demanding? Was I, like my father? Was he dominating too? These needs I had, to hold her down, to fuck her hard, to fuck her everywhere and anywhere worried me. Did she see me as dark as wrong?

I’d had to control everything around me since I was a kid. At the age of four, my scum bag of a father had left us, left my mother with three kids. I was the oldest, the only boy. As such, I took on the role of man of the house, I protected my sisters and endeavored to help my mother in any way I could. My bond with my sisters was still strong, working through those early years, struggling and striving for something better, together, as a true family. Bonds like that couldn’t be easily broken.

Thursday night, Luke and I had a long talk. I came clean with him about Nolan’s letter, about my childhood and how I’d spiraled after Dylan’s death and again after Nolan’s. Luke was a good friend, and of everyone, he understood me. I’d lost my best friend and so had he. Sharing all that personal shit had been strange for me, but it was cleansing too. I was able to look at my relationship with Hope in a different light and see what I’d done to really fuck it up.

After I had hung up the call with Luke, frustrated that he wouldn’t tell where she was, Hope called me, for the first time since she’d left my house. The sound of her voice was a balm to my tattered soul. My throat had tightened just hearing her.

When she finally agreed to see me, my heart expanded with so much joy, I wanted to run over there at that moment. I wanted to take her into my arms and hold her tight. I wanted to hold her forever. Nolan had been right in his letter to me. I needed to live, I needed to let the past go and live again. I needed to learn to love through the despair my life had taken on.

Walking into O’Reily’s late Friday night, I looked around the room, studying each person there. I made it look like a casual glance, but my training and experience proved time and again, that I could never be too careful of my surroundings. I was undercover and my disheveled appearance, from so many days without Hope, fit perfectly with my mission.

I hadn’t shaved in days, my eyes were bloodshot from nights without sleep and my hair was overly long, since I’d skipped my last trip to the barber. As my eyes scanned the room, looking for the confidential informant I was meeting there, they caught on a lone figure in the back of the vast room. She sat alone at a high top table, several glasses in front of her. Her head was bent down, resting in her upturned palms.

My body sensed her, I knew, even from this distance and the bodies obstructing my view, that it was Hope. What the fuck was she doing here? In this place, alone, this late and obviously drunk. Was she alone? I wondered for a few seconds, as my eyes continued their perusal of the other patrons. I didn’t see anyone who would be good enough to be here with her. No one looked her way, or seemed to pay her any mind. It took every ounce of will power I possessed to stop myself from striding up to her, grabbing her around the waist, lifting her over my shoulder and tying her to my bed for the foreseeable future.

The image almost brought a grin to my angry face. In this situation, I didn’t have the luxury of a personal life. I couldn’t go to her, couldn’t even speak to her if she recognized me. I wouldn’t put her in that kind of danger. Never, would I allow anything to endanger her. She was far too precious.

I positioned myself, at the bar, angled myself toward the door, but if I moved my head slightly, I could still see her out of the corner of my eye.

Within minutes my CI came in, actually on time, which was new, and sidled up to me. He stood between me and the door at the bar. He was a small man, maybe five-nine, skinny from too many years of drug use. He would be almost completely shielded from the rest of the bar by my body. This would enable him to give me the information he had for me, so I could slip out and no one would be the wiser.

The transaction was complete in just over five minutes. Those five minutes were torturous, knowing the Hope sat there, alone, and impaired. I needed to call someone to come get her. I needed to go get her myself.

The thing was, I couldn’t, I couldn’t fuck this entire mission because she was drunk in a bar. I was so pissed. Pissed at Hope, pissed at the situation, I couldn’t believe that she was there, exposed to anyone. What would happen if her ex had followed her, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to get to her? Did she not understand this?

Why hadn’t she gone back to Aurora’s house, where was Luke? Why hadn’t they noticed she wasn’t there? Why hadn’t someone come out to find her? Why did I find her vulnerable at a time I couldn’t do a damn thing about it? This entire situation was fucked.

I turned my head enough to check her out one more time, as my eyes caught her, I could tell that she was looking straight at me. She knew exactly who I was. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck prickle with awareness of her, she knew, I knew and I couldn’t do a damn thing.

I paid the bartender for my untouched beer and walked with purpose out of the bar. Moving around to the side of the bar, I saw Hope’s car. I wanted to go over there and wait for her, but instead, I stayed in character, walked to the blacked out Charger, slid into the passenger seat and my partner, Nick, pulled out. We had the location of the deal we’d been waiting on for months.

Calling the team together, I relayed the information and everyone got into formation. Nick and I were on the recovery team, once the buy was made, we’d swoop in, along with several other agents and make the arrests. If luck was on our side tonight, we’d get four seriously bad, higher level dealers off the streets.

In position, we moved in, and saw the other recovery cars close in around the dealer’s Escalade. He couldn’t get out of the tight circle, so not surprisingly, as we yelled for them to exit the vehicle, to come out with hands raised, one of them, threw his Hail Mary pass and opened fire. The melee ensued.

I was so worried about Hope, so focused on getting this shit done, that I fucked up, I missed the one dealer not yet accounted for, and he opened fire too, hitting Nick. I saw it, saw my partner, my friend fall.

Not knowing how badly he’d been hit, I pounded the red button on the radio to call for help. Returning fire with the other agents, I kept Nick behind me, safe.

Finally, after several minutes, the four dealers were in custody, subdued but pissing mad. No one else had been injured in the fight, back up and the paramedics had arrived and even now, Nick was being loaded onto a gurney into the back of a waiting ambulance.

A few minutes after the ambulance pulled away, I picked up my phone and made the call that I’d been dreading since Nick had been shot. I called his wife, Samantha. She was a kind woman with brass balls. They had four beautiful children, three girls and finally a boy. She was stoic through the call. I was impressed by her yet again.

I swung into pick her up on the way to the hospital and pulled in front of their house just as her mother pulled up to watch the kids. Thankfully, it was only a shoulder wound, and he would be fine, eventually.

Had it not been for my need to quicken the arrest, had I been more diligent, I would have been able to discern the man who shot him. I should have prevented it.

Samantha and I pulled into the busy parking lot and before the car was fully stopped, she’d thrown off her seatbelt and was barreling toward the double doors to the emergency room. I followed her, catching up to her just before she entered, laid a hand on her shoulder to offer my support and to hopefully provide her with the calm she needed to get through the next few hours.

Nick had been taken into surgery to remove the bullet. We were told that it missed anything vital, but had gotten lodged near the bone. He was a strong man and should make a complete recovery, in time. I waited with her, as the room filled with their family, with the other agents and friends.

Her support system was vast, so many were there for her, to hold her up and give her what she needed at this difficult time. I wondered about Hope, worried about her, hoped that she’d gotten back to Aurora’s house safely. I sent a text to Luke, asking him and after another hour, finally got his response that she was fine. She’d gotten back to the house in a taxi and he’d help her get her car in the morning.

I exhaled a sigh of relief. I’d sent her several texts, but they’d all gone unanswered. I assumed that she was passed out, hopefully safely tucked into bed, but unfortunately, not my bed. That would change tomorrow. I’d go to her, I’d plead with her, I’d promise her anything, everything. I’d give her the world if she’d only let me. Would she say yes if I asked her? I wondered about that for a long time.

Standing behind Samantha as the doctor gave his prognosis, we each let out a sigh of relief, knowing that Nick had made it through the surgery and his shoulder looked great. I felt for Samantha, not only going through this ordeal, but knowing that Nick, a man who couldn’t hold still, who always had to be doing something, would drive her crazy at home for the next several weeks as he recovered.

I waited outside his room, once he was settled, giving Samantha time alone with her husband. About twenty minutes after she walked in, she poked her head out, a huge smile brightening up her tired face.

“Come on in, Jake, he’s awake.” Thank god. The weight of his injury began to lift from my shoulders.

Moving to the side of the bed, opposite the man’s wife, I stood and looked down at my friend. This scene was so similar to seeing Nolan laid up all those years ago. I forced my mind to stay in the present, not allowing it to slide back to that place. Here, now, this was where I needed to stay, living, not remembering.

I punched Nick in the uninjured shoulder, and heard Samantha start to laugh. Our antics were well known around the Dallas office, we were close, good friends, but we didn’t express emotion, we punched each other, tripped each other or did one of a million other things to annoy the other. If I’d come in here, hat in hand, crying over my friend, he’d be convinced that he was dying. I wouldn’t do that; I’d never put the burden of my pain on him.

I stayed, talking with them for a long time. Samantha had arranged to stay with her husband overnight, telling the nurses that he’d be unbearable for them if she didn’t stay and kick his ass when he got out of line. She knew the man for sure. I knew that by morning, he’d be bellowing about getting up and out of the bed. He’d probably start tinkering around his hospital room, trying to fix things.

With a moment alone, Samantha had stepped out to call her mom, I spoke to Nick.

“I fucked up tonight. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I was rushing, I didn’t notice the fourth guy hadn’t gotten out.” I let the sentence hang for a minute, taking a breath to go on, but before I did, he cut me off.

“Seriously, you think you’re fucking Amazing Agent Man or some shit? There were eight of us surrounding that SUV, any one of us should have noticed that, should have seen him coming, there’s no way to know what to expect, so knock that shit off.” I dipped my head, focusing on the floor beneath my spread feet and grinned.

“Fucking Amazing Agent Man? You going to start that shit again? I thought I’d lost that nickname – finally.”

“Maybe, I’ll bring it back if you start spouting that feelings bullshit to me again.” I shook my head and chuckled. He was a good man, a good agent, a good friend.

“Dude should have aimed lower, could have taken care of the vasectomy Samantha wants you to get.” I said, trying to irritate him some more. They’d been arguing for months about Nick getting snipped, but he was adamant that no fucking doctor was going to get near his nuts.

“That’s a great idea. Would have saved us the copay too.” Samantha spouted as she walked back into the room. I guessed she’d probably been listening, waiting for us to be done with our emotional shit before she came back in. Being the seasoned agent’s wife, that she was, she knew just how to deal with us.

Looking out the window of the hospital room, I realized that the morning was long gone. The sun was high in the sky, I’d been so busy, sitting with Nick and Samantha, then talking to the Resident Agent in Charge and giving my account I’d let the day slip away. That sucked, I hated that shit, but it had to be done. I was at least glad that Nick would be fine, and we didn’t have to fill out more paperwork.