Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (37 page)

“Daddy, how’s Maman? Does she want to see me yet?”

Damián sat on the couch and lifted her into his lap. “
Mi muñequita
, you know Maman has missed you like crazy. She’s just been really tired, and I wanted her to rest, but I’m going to let you see her a little bit tonight.”

“Damián, you’re back!” He looked up to see Karla in the doorway. “I need to speak with you about something.” He was too exhausted to get up again, wanting nothing more than to hold his daughter. He’d missed her so much.

“Can it wait until later, Karla?”

Her gaze went from him to Marisol as if not wanting to talk in front of his little girl.

“Well…”

“Grammy Karla, Daddy’s going to take me to see Maman. Can you help me pick out something pretty to wear? Maybe my new shirt!”

“Sure, munchkin.” Karla cast a worried glance his way but took Marisol’s hand and walked toward whichever room she’d been sleeping in. Probably sharing with his niece, Teresa.

Relieved he didn’t have to face one more damned thing, Damián scrubbed his face with his hand. An exhaustion like he’d never felt before descended on him. When’s the last time he’d slept more than an hour at a time? Not since Savannah had been kidnapped almost a week ago.

A tiny hand rubbed his arm. “It’s going to be okay, Tío Damo.” He opened his eyes to see José looking up at him with a worried look on his face. He’d forgotten all about him. Damián didn’t like to worry his family with his problems. His nephew and niece had had to grow up too fast as it was. He wanted to shelter them from any more of the ugliness in the world. Their bastard of a father had already shown them enough of that.

“I’m fine, José. Just tired. Thanks for playing with Marisol. She misses playing with her friends while in Colorado where she’s been stuck with grownups all the time.”

“I like her. I’m glad you found her.”

Damián smiled. “So am I, kiddo.” It was more like they had found him. He couldn’t imagine what life without Marisol and Savannah would be like, and right now he didn’t want to think about how close he’d come to losing them both. He rubbed the soreness out of his calf, careful not to touch the wound.

“Does your leg hurt?”

“Not as much anymore.”

“I don’t mean your stump but where you got shot rescuing Tía Savannah.”

“That’s what I meant. My stump stopped hurting a long time ago.” Unless he aggravated it.

“Then it’s true, Daddy? Your foot got cut off?”

Damián looked up to see Marisol standing in the doorway wearing a hot pink shirt with sparkles splashed all over it.
Madre de Dios
. Apparently, she’d heard about it before. Karla stood behind her, an apologetic look on her face.

He wasn’t prepared to talk with Marisol about this right now but couldn’t ignore her question either. No more hiding who he was.

“Why did you tell José but not me?” Judging by her quivering lower lip, she seemed more upset about the slight of not being told first than the fact her daddy was missing his foot.

“Aw, come here, baby doll.” After she was settled on his lap again, he took a deep breath. How to begin? “You know I lived with José for a long time before I even knew you.”

“But I lived with you a long time this year, too.”

Shiiittttttt.

How to confess to her he was ashamed of his weakness? To admit that he didn’t want his daughter to be ashamed of him, too?

“I’ll leave you all alone.” Karla slipped away.

Damián had no clue what to say. He should have fucking planned this talk, knowing it would come sooner or later. But tonight wasn’t about him. How did he think Marisol felt, learning her daddy was a cripple?

“Marisol, I didn’t tell you because I wanted to wait and be sure you were ready to find out I’m not like other daddies.”

“How did your foot get cut off? Did it hurt?”

Now how to sugarcoat it for her innocent ears?

José chimed in before he could form a response. “The doctors cut your foot off when you’re asleep, so you don’t feel it.”

Damián grinned. “That’s true, José. It did hurt when I got wounded, but Tío Marc was there and he helped take care of me.” He realized he’d lapsed into the Spanish term for uncle. Must be being in Rosa’s house in the old neighborhood or something. “Then I went to surgery, and I don’t remember much until I woke up in Germany.”

“Were you asleep a long time, Daddy?”

Not long enough.
Damián remembered those dark days for months afterward when he’d wanted nothing more than to have died in combat. His eyes burned from a lack of sleep.

Begin at the beginning.

“Way back when you were a tiny baby, I was serving with my Marine buddies in Iraq.”

“Lots of my friends at San Miguel’s have dads who are Marines. And Chuy’s mom is in the Navy.”

Not surprising given that Marisol lived in Solana Beach—situated between naval bases in San Diego and the Marine one at Camp Pendleton. Well, she used to live there. Since December, she’d lived with him in Denver, and he hoped they planned to stay there. Everything was still up in the air until Savannah healed from the trauma of her beating and they could talk about their future together.

“Was it an IED?”

How the hell did someone eight years old know about Improvised Explosive Devices? Apparently he wasn’t telling the story fast enough to stay ahead of her questions.

“No,
bebé
, my unit was on a rooftop trying to find some of the bad guys, but they found us first, and I lost my foot in a hand-grenade explosion.”

“Did it hurt?”

Like a motherfucker.

“Yeah, but I don’t remember much about it. Doc—Tío Marc—helped keep me alive.”

“Was he a doctor?”

“No, but we called him Doc, because he was trained to patch up any Marines who got hurt. He tried to keep us alive until we could get to see the real doctors.”

“Like a medic.”

He wasn’t sure how she knew about medics, either, but he nodded. He supposed growing up near so many military installations; she must be exposed to a lot more knowledge of combat than the average American kid was these days. Or maybe some of her friends had told her about these things.

Back to his story. “But the doctors couldn’t save my foot, so they decided it was best that I learn to live without it.”

Damián remembered back to that time when he had decided living was the last thing he wanted to do. Now, holding his precious daughter on his lap, he cringed to think how close he’d come to ending it all. Marc and Adam had rescued him at Balboa during the darkest moment of his life and kept him going for months until he could start living again, which he really didn’t do until Savannah and Marisol came into his life last December like gangbusters. If he’d killed himself, he never would have gotten to meet his beautiful daughter nor reunite with the love of his life.

“Can I see your foot, Daddy?”

He had nothing to hide anymore. Damián stretched his leg out and pulled up the trouser leg to reveal his biker boots. He reached down to unzip the one covering his prosthesis and expelled a lung full of pent-up air. He knew why the nerves. What if she wasn’t ready to see his stump?

After removing the shoe, he pulled off the stump sock and waited for her to take it in. She didn’t reach to touch him the way Savannah had. Good thing. He didn’t want her to get that close to it.

Marisol stroked his sleeve but didn’t take her eye off the stump. Her usually strong voice came out in a whisper as she said, “Amputeddy says you’ll still be my daddy.”

Who?
“Amputeddy?”

“Maman got me some books about Amputeddy. He lost his leg and got a new one. And his friend Brandon Bear’s daddy lost his arm in the war.”

Damián should have known Savannah would have been preparing Marisol for the time when he’d be ready to reveal his true self to his little girl. He blinked away the burning in his eyes, this time knowing it was tears and not a lack of sleep.
Dios
, let him get through this day without fucking bawling like a baby in front of his little girl. He didn’t deserve to have Savannah but was so glad she was back in his life.

He pulled Marisol closer and hugged her. “You know I’ll always be your daddy, baby princess.” Maybe knowing what she already understood would help him determine what else she needed to know about his amputation. “What else did you learn from Amputeddy?”

“That you’ll still love me even if you can’t do things like go skiing with me on Tío Marc’s snowy mountain.”

Wait a minute there
. “Would you like me to go skiing with you someday?”

“It’s not important. We can do other stuff together.” He didn’t miss the disappointment in her voice as she played with the zipper pull on his Harley jacket, not making eye contact. Clearly, skiing had become important to her since Marc had given Marisol her first lesson New Year’s weekend in Aspen. Seemed like a million years ago.

Damián knew what he needed to do—order a blade prosthesis, socket, and liners, and then get out on the slopes with his daughter the next chance they got. Of course, Marc would have to give him some lessons, too. He’d never been on skis before, even when he had two feet.

“What if I told you I could learn to ski, too?”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up as a smile stretched across her face. “When can we go again? I can show you what I know already.”

Damián laughed at her enthusiasm. She didn’t sound like she’d be ashamed to have him there on the slopes with her at all, rather than sitting on the bench playing it safe as he’d done the last time. “Well, we may have to wait until fall for the snow to be deep enough.”

Some of the light went out of her eyes. Then she looked down at his stump again. For a long time, she remained silent, and he wondered what she was thinking. Finally, she tugged at the hairs on his chin to get him to look her in the eye. “Daddy, will you still be able to carry me?” Her little chin quivered, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her.

“I think so,
bebé
. I won’t be able to do that on long walks or anything, but I can lift your mommy for short distances, so I think I’ll be able to carry you for many years to come.”

“I’ll just stay little so you can always carry me.” She sounded so resolute, as if making such a pronouncement would make it so.

Damián laughed. “No, that’s not going to work. I want to watch you grow up into a beautiful woman. But the blade I’m going to get will make it easier for me to do more active things, and I will keep working on my strength training and do the best I can to keep up with you.”

“My teacher says that’s all we should do—the best we can.”

“She’s right,
mi
muñequita.

“Do you have any other questions?”

Without hesitation she asked, “When do I get to see Maman?”

Chapter Eighteen

A
month had passed since Savi’s—
Savannah’s
—rescue. Marc drew a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Would she even be home? He probably should have called first but was afraid she’d just tell him to take a hike. Off a very high mountain cliff.

“Yes?”

Her voice sounded wary.
Good girl for being careful.

“It’s Marc D’Alessio. I need to talk with you.” He wondered if she’d even remember him. As the silence dragged out for several tense moments, he knew she did.

“I don’t think there’s anything more to say.”

“Oh, there’s a helluva lot to be said. Starting with an apology—
my
apology.”

Another pause, and then she buzzed him through. He took the stairs two at a time to the third floor and knocked on her door. His heart pounded, probably not from the mild exertion of climbing the stairs. What was he going to say to her? Could he undo any of the damage he’d caused without—?

The door opened, and Pamela stood there wearing a long, baggy sweater and jeans rather than her usual power suit. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, not perfectly coifed as before. She’d lost weight, even in her face. The wary expression in her eyes told him he had his work cut out for him.

She stepped aside and waved him in. After offering him a glass of his favorite wine—they’d always shared a love of pinot bianco—they sat across from each other, he on the sofa and she in a French provincial chair with her left foot tucked under her knee.