Page 15 of Come For Me
Chapter Six
Cool dark enclosed him as the door slid shut at his back. Dain waited a moment for his eyes to adjust, for the concrete staircase leading upward to differentiate itself from the surrounding walls in the faint glow of the EXIT light above his head, making certain no one waited nearby. Only then did he start up the stairs.
The quiet always took on an eerie quality on an op. It was the same quiet that normally encased a dark night or an unused part of a building or an empty room, but the urgency, the risk changed the air he breathed, the lack of sound taking on weight in his ears. He breathed in and out in rhythm with his silent steps, wrapped himself in control as he rounded each bend of the cool metal railing. In less than a minute, he was at the door with a large black four on the adjoining sign.
No window, no way to peek. And when he turned the handle, the door didn’t budge. Locked, just like the officers said. That meant whoever was doing this knew the back area of the offices, had been there at some point to secure it. Had they found Livie already?
He pulled a set of picks from his equipment belt and went to work.
He hadn’t been to the back rooms more than once. From the position of the staircase he knew he’d be at the end of the hall, and that the kitchen waited only a few feet away. Picturing the layout in his mind, he fiddled with the pick until he heard and felt the lock give. His hand dropped automatically to the GLOCK at his hip, drawing the weapon smoothly as he pocketed his tools. A quiet pull on the door and he was in.
The hallway was empty, all doors shut. He took a moment to settle the exit door back into its jamb without a sound, then glided on silent feet toward the kitchen.
Deep breath. He stopped outside the room and listened, but if Livie was in there, he couldn’t detect it. No sound. He released the air from his lungs at the same time he gave the door a push.
She stood with her back to him. He knew it was her immediately, the long line of her back and fiery red hair as familiar as his own reflection. A glance down the hall confirmed they were alone for now.
He moved inside.
The click of the latch closing caught Livie’s attention.
Next thing he knew, there was a fork coming at his face. Livie’s expression shone like a Valkyrie, fierce and bright, a mama bear protecting herself and her cub. No recognition, nothing but the determination to fight to the death—with a fork. Christ.
Dain caught her hand easily, gently, pulling her close with his grip on her wrist. “Livie, it’s me. It’s Dain.”
Her eyes seemed to clear, focusing on his face. He knew the moment she recognized him through the adrenaline coursing in her veins. That fierce expression crumpled, and so did his wife, right to her knees.
“Livie, baby.” Dain kept his voice low, but he couldn’t keep the emotion out of it, the relief. Dangerous on an op, but this was no ordinary op. He dropped to his knees next to his wife and pulled her trembling body into his arms.
Resting the GLOCK on the floor next to him within easy reach, he listened to the soft sound of her crying, felt her shake, let the knowledge that she breathed sink into his soul even as he ran careful hands over her, searching for wounds, for anything wrong, and maybe just reassuring himself that she was real, not a figment of his needy imagination. His touch on her body was as familiar as breathing, grounding him in the moment.
The soldier part of him, ever present, scanned the room for threats. That’s when he saw what lay on the floor beyond her. Or who. A hoarse “fuck” left his lips.
She’d put at least one fork to good use. Knowing what must’ve pushed her to that point, he felt nothing but satisfaction at the sight of the body. The faint scents of blood and vomit and disinfectant registered in his nose as he hugged Livie closer, breasts pressed hard to chest, letting her absorb his strength like he absorbed her tears. Her name escaped, a rough whisper he repeated over and over, a litany drawing her back from the darkness.
Time slowed, wrapping them in a muffled sense of safety until Livie’s crying finally shuddered to a stop. Dain eased back, but when he tried to kiss her, she jerked away.
“No. No, wait. I have to—” She broke off, stumbling to her feet, lunging for the sink before she fully stood. When she turned the water on full blast, he wondered distractedly if she thought he’d be offended that she hadn’t brushed after throwing up. He couldn’t care less. He wanted his wife in his arms, her mouth against his, the assurance that she was alive and well undeniable to more than his eyes.
Her ragged whispers shredded his suppositions and protests into confetti. “Wash him off. Wash him off. Wash him…”
Dain’s gut twisted hard.
Walking slowly up behind her, he settled first one hand, then the other loosely onto her hips. Livie didn’t startle, didn’t break her focus on the water rushing into the sink, into her cupped fingers. He tightened his grip, determined to wait until she was ready but unable to deny himself the feel of her, solid, real, beneath his hands, against his body. He couldn’t ignore the juxtaposition of this moment and this morning, how different the circumstances despite the fact that he’d held her just like this in the shower a few hours ago. Careful not to scare her, he curved his body around hers, sliding his arms beneath her belly to hug her close, needing to comfort her almost as much as she needed to wash.
When she finally turned the water off, Dain fished around in the drawers until he found a hand towel to dry her with. He held her still as he swiped the water from her face. “Livie, tell me what happened.”
“He heard me.” She sucked in a rough breath, but her gaze never wavered from his. “I was too loud trying to get the stair door open, and he heard me. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, a fierce heat filling him. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Not one damn thing, you got that?” He waited for Livie’s nod before dropping his gaze to her body. “Did he hurt you?” Blood spattered her clothes, but he didn’t see any rips or tears. He tried to breathe away the anxiety of knowing what else might’ve happened without the aid of a single piece of cutlery. Her silence didn’t help.
“Did he, Livie? Talk to me.”
She blinked rapidly. “He didn’t… I couldn’t let him close; I couldn’t risk… I couldn’t.” Her gaze skittered around the room, over the body, then returned to him as if he was her anchor. “I had to protect our baby.”
Our baby.
He’d waited as long as he could. Cupping her face, he brought her lips up to meet his descent. Their mouths fit together perfectly, just as their souls did, their bond locking into place as surely as their kiss. Livie’s mouth felt cool from the water, but he shared his heat as he forged inside. I love you. Maybe another man would feel bad about what she’d had to do, about the man’s death, but not Dain—he was a warrior through and through, and so was his wife. He’d rather a hundred evil bastards die than for her to be taken from him.
