Page 32 of Securing Samantha

He stroked her back and grinned before gently pulling her in and softly kissing her. Her eyes closed as she melded her tongue with his. He held her tightly as he extended the kiss. When he pulled back, he dazzled her with a smile.

“Wow, I’ve already started counting the hours until you return,” he whispered in her ear before slowly releasing her and walking away. She touched her lips as she watched him walk down the hall.

Samantha led her sleepy child to their parked car at the airport. Becky’s parents met her in baggage claim. The time difference wreaked havoc with her son, and she wondered briefly how many days it would take to get him back on schedule. Luckily the kids get out of school for Thanksgiving the following week.

Edie already invited them to join her, Saint, and Nugget. Her mind drifted to Whiskey and wondered if he made plans to eat with the team. Then she shoved him from her mind. He could eat with his new blonde bar fly. Anger ripped through her before she reminded herself, nothing had changed. Her Liam died, and the man who walked in the shell of her husband’s body didn’t resemble the man she married.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Whiskey took the keys Samantha left with the team of the Victorian home she purchased when Leo moved her to Serenity. He found the one to fit the lock and walked inside the living room.

Everything carried a fine layer of dust since Samantha never returned to it after James’s attempted kidnapping of Kassie and Em. The living room held a comfortable couch and two wingback chairs overlooking a fireplace. The walls were painted a light gray with white ornate trim from the era of the house. It smelled faintly of something citrusy.

He crossed the room and stopped in the hallway. Pictures of his old self and Samantha decorated the wall. The flag, most likely from his funeral, held a place of honor in the small alcove at the end of the hall. Pictures of younger versions of the team filled the space. Photos of each of his friends taking LJ on different adventures decorated the wall. He studied each of them wishing he had taken his son to all the places yet grateful to the men for stepping up and honoring their promise.

He slowly made his way down the hall. Walking into the first room on the left, he found his son’s things. He smiled as he remembered his wife’s obsession with organization. Each toy sat in its designated spot. Some of LJ’s clothes hung in order. He picked up the toy truck and gripped it in his hand as he noticed the picture sitting on the edge of the bed.

The image consisted of him and Samantha, heavily pregnant. His massive arms covered her lovingly as he placed his hands on her belly. He relived the picture in his head.

They both smiled at the camera. When the photographer snapped the picture, she leaned farther back into him and said, “I love you, Liam.” Her hand came up and stroked the scruff on his face as he leaned down to kiss her. The photographer, seeing the picture of a lifetime, snapped the image in front of him. His hands rested gently on her stomach, her hand settled on his jaw, her eyes gazed lovingly into his as he leaned down.

He smelled the lavender in her hair. His heart pounded as he recalled the magical moment. Their love for one another felt unbreakable. He took a picture of it with his phone before putting it back in its place. He walked across the hall into the kitchen.

The color of the room matched the same yellow as their old home, cheerful and sunny. Everything sat suspended in time. He wandered over to the sink and stared out the window. He turned his head, noticing a small cutting board attached to the upper cabinet. It held a design of shamrocks along the edge and in the middle, burned into the wood, his recipe for Irish Soda Bread. His fingers traced the instructions he knew by heart. He chanted it daily for fear of forgetting what he told Samantha. Place an X in the bread to ward off evil. He didn’t have the ingredients to make it in the desert, but he hoped if he made it in his head it warded off the horror and misery of each day waiting to die.

He returned to the hallway and located his wife’s room. Of course, a light shade of lavender adorned the walls. The quilt his mom gave them on their wedding day graced the bed. He sat down and ran his hand over the intricate design of the Irish Chain Quilt. His parents returned to Ireland and every woman in his family joined in on the making of the blanket. Each square intricately made with four leaf clovers, horseshoes, and Celtic knots. The pattern represented the strength and resilience of the Irish people. It served as a reminder of their ability to find beauty and strength even in the face of adversity.

A plethora of memories sat on her nightstand. Pictures from their wedding day, the day she found out she carried their child, when they purchased their first home and he scooped her up in his arms. He stood by her mom and dad showing the small apartment like room the team helped him build because of her dad. He picked up the picture from their wedding day, feeling the happiness and joy. He noticed the small fingerprints, most likely Samantha’s, where she held the frame. He stood and walked to the other side of the house beyond the kitchen.

Rage built as he thought of the bastard who held a knife to his boy’s throat and a gun to his wife’s head. Leo told him Jameson remained hospitalized due to complications and will move to a rehabilitation facility in the near future. The team kept eyes on him, and an FBI Agent, Julio Hernandez kept them informed of any changes.

He scanned the now empty room except for the shampoo bowls and chairs. Kassie didn’t want Samantha recalling getting taped down to the seats. She replaced them with lavender colored ones and new bowls in the temporary location. He noticed the tea bins and in the back of the studio, her workroom. Dried flowers still adorned the table. Her notes and lists hung taped to the metal locker next to the bench. No wonder she and Kassie got along. Both enjoyed their lists. He shook his head.

The backyard held a tire swing and a barren patch of dirt he guessed she used as a garden. She made a happy life. She gave her son memories of him. A smile played on his face. The pride he felt at how hard she worked to make a comfortable life for the two of them welled up inside him. When Leo told him Patrice, Samantha’s mom, moved to Florida, it didn’t surprise him.

Patrice never understood her daughter’s drive. She didn’t agree with him encouraging Samantha to research and work on her skincare projects. When her dad fell sick, Patrice wanted to put him into a home. Knowing the close bond between his wife and her father, he insisted they stay with them. Both women loved Gerald and agreed to get along for the sake of him. Samantha burst into tears when she returned from visiting her parents for the weekend to find the remodeled garage and addition. She fell into his arms in relief and tears.

Whiskey swiped his forehead as he sat in one of the stylist chairs, taking in the room. He tried the team’s advice and attempted to text Samantha. At first, she responded when he asked questions concerning his son. Then she stopped answering the remaining days they stayed in New York. She told him she scheduled their return flight for this afternoon. He felt restless, almost antsy, as if his gut warned him of something significant happening. He hoped he contained enough courage to withstand the storm.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Claire sat across the desk observing Whiskey. “You asked to see me. Would you like to start?”

Whiskey tried to find the words to describe what he felt. “I want to ask if you’ll help me call Samantha and navigate telling our son I’m his Da.”

“Have you spoken with Samantha? Last time we met, she seemed agreeable concerning your son,” Claire questioned him.

“I might have buggered it up a bit. I sent her divorce papers. She went on vacation with LJ and since she’s returned…I don’t know. It feels different.” Whiskey stood and paced the room.

Claire nodded her head. “What drove you to making the decision?”

Whiskey ran his hand down his face. “Honestly, I hurt her when she comes here. I see the pain in her eyes. She doesn’t deserve this. She and my son deserve better.”

“Then why do you sound unhappy?” she pointed out.

“I hurt her even worse. I feel like I can’t make the right decisions. My team doesn’t even trust me. They’re on a job right now and they’re completely mum. Leo seems distracted and I know him well enough to know he’s never distracted on a mission. I can’t thank Kassie enough for giving me the cabin to stay in, but I feel like everyone’s moving on with their lives and I resemble the mountain. I’m stuck. With every move I take, I make a wrong choice,” Whiskey vented.

“Have you thought about getting a job?” she asked.

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