Page 72 of Heston
“Honest. It’s already healed. I’ll show you once we get home.”
She nodded, willing to compromise for now, because Alex didn’t lie. “Okay then. Go on.”
His belly expanded with another deep inhalation. “There are lots of moving parts to this mission, sweetheart, but it all comes back to Mel and his ties to the Irish mob. Pops Delaney was Lancaster Wirth’s lieutenant, his go-to man for his dirty business in Boston. Delaney wasn’t the true Irish Mafia boss. Neither was his daughter. Lancaster Wirth was, and his son was in it up to his neck, too. It’s a long, complicated story, but the bottom line is you’re safe now, and every last bastard behind your getting shot is either in FBI custody or in the ground.”
Kelsey lifted her bandaged hand to his chest. She wanted to flutter her fingertips over those hard-as-rocks pectorals, but settled for patting him instead. “I’m always safe with you.”
He made an odd choking sound deep down in his chest and Kelsey knew precisely what he was thinking. “Stop it. I’m alive, Alex. Hold me. Never let me go.”
A gruff “Never,” reverberated under her ear.
“Good,” she snapped. “I know damned well I wouldn’t be here today if not for you and your TEAM. Let go of all the what-ifs. I made it. We made it. That’s all that matters.”
“I’ll never let you go,” he breathed into her hair. “Thank God for ice-cold water.”
“Oh!” She bolted upright. “I remember that, but… but…” The memory was lost as quickly as it had come to her. Kelsey sank back against Alex. “Remember what you told me that time you recovered from almost dying?”
“You mean when Harley finished the job I should’ve and sniped your ex before I could?” he replied bitterly.
“Yes. What’d you tell me after I pretended to be your nurse and unwrapped the packing on your eyes? Remember?”
He should. Her ex had tried to kill her, and Alex had survived one hell of a beating the same night. He’d temporarily lost his sight as a result of severe head trauma. The doctors hadn’t expected he’d survive. But he had. Once he’d come to, he’d been an ornery beast and had ordered Kelsey to get away from him. To leave. And she did. But after she’d had time to think, she’d returned on a mission to save him from himself. She’d worked a deal with his doctor and surprised Alex by standing in as his nurse the day the bandages came off those poor, sad blue eyes. She’d been the one who cleaned the medicinal residue from his eyelids and lashes. It was still a very intimate memory. Him so helpless and still so angry. Her so timid, afraid of hurting him. So tentative that she’d known he’d lost patience with her. That was when she’d fallen in love with this grumpy man all over again.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Well? What’d you say?”
“Just that I wanted to go home.”
“Me, too,” Kelsey whispered. “I just want to go home, Alex. Can you make it happen?”
Her crazy, bossy man huffed like a spoiled brat who wasn’t getting his way. There was no way he’d be able to refuse her. He couldn’t. Because he’d already made it happen.
Kelsey was home the moment she opened her eyes and saw him.
Home to her was simply—Alex.
Chapter Thirty-Three
London was broken. Not just broken, but withdrawn and growing farther away from Heston each day. Worse, hopeless. There was no spark in her. The light in her eyes was gone, and she’d replaced that sassy turquoise with the mousey blonde Heston hadn’t seen in years. The zest that had once fired her soul, fervently enough that she’d stood up to her parents for what she believed in, then left for the same reason, had retreated to someplace deep within her psyche. If it was still there at all. Heston didn’t know.
He’d cajoled, pampered, and gone out of his way not to mention what happened the day she’d been rescued. All with no reaction. It was as if her insides had been hollowed out by what she’d lived through and what she’d seen. Heston worried she’d had enough, that she was on the verge of leaving him. That she didn’t want to live with the killer she now knew he was.
He took time off, then he took more time off, needing to be there for her. Whatever it took for as long as it took. Still… nothing. Physically, she’d recovered. The bruising had faded. Her ribs were still tender, but she was back to breathing without cringing with every breath. The signs of stress remained. For nightwear she’d traded her tiny tees and boxers for long flannel bottoms and long-sleeved tops. She said she needed to keep warm, but Heston knew better. She wanted distance from him and to keep him at bay. She didn’t want to look sexy, so she wore layers. She flinched when he touched her. She never stepped into his side anymore. Never bumped hips, and she retreated whenever he came too close. She hadn’t teased him once inthe week they’d been home. Didn’t smile. Refused to leave the house.
Despite how much she’d needed Heston after he’d found her with Obermeyer, she didn’t seem to need him now. Wouldn’t talk about it. Refused to share. He was afraid he knew why. She must’ve been raped, but she wouldn’t admit it. She hadn’t allowed him to join her in the examination room at the ER, so he had no way to know for sure. Maybe just because he was a man? Maybe because of what she’d witnessed him do to Obermeyer?
Worse, London didn’t seem to want to live anymore. She’d lost the effervescent joy that was her trademark, her way of facing life head-on. She’d become indifferent. Numb.
Heston now knew Obermeyer, Keane, and the senior Wirth had personally beaten London in that damned container. They’d laid their hands on her. They’d hurt her. The knowledge turned him nuclear if he thought on it too long. If he could, he’d dig Obermeyer’s dead body up and kill him again. He’d gotten off easy.
Miles hadn’t touched London, though. He wasn’t behind Malloy’s murder or London’s abduction. Not like that made him any better than his old man. He’d still acted on his father’s orders. He’d been an active accomplice.
It was an interesting side note, given that his father seemed to have favored Alex over his only son. Lancaster had certainly used Miles as nothing more than an errand boy to get at Alex, then as chauffeur. While Lancaster had focused his very persuasive power on the man who could get him and his schemes inside the White House, he’d treated his only kid like a lackey. Which seemed logical. Miles had never served in the military. Had no weight training. Hadn’t worked out. Hadn’t known how to shoot or defend himself. His federal career was lackluster at best. His only value was that he was his father’s son.
The difference between Alex’s and Miles’ ambition, dedication, and drive could be measured in light years. Hell, they weren’t even in the same universe. Not to mention Alex’s love for his wife and family, his loyalty to his TEAM, and his love of country. America surely had her flaws, but with men the caliber of Alex Stewart standing guard at her moral frontiers, jackals, wolves, and snakes the likes of the Wirths, Obermeyer, and Keane, didn’t stand a chance.
The TEAM meeting Alex called this morning was an unwelcome interruption to the uneasy truce between Heston and London. She’d flat-out refused to go into TEAM HQ, like Alex requested. Said she wasn’t a TEAM employee, that she’d reconsidered and might work for Tucker Chase after all. That she needed time and distance. She’d staked out Heston’s spare bedroom as her own. They hadn’t slept together since he’d brought her home. If he gave her any more distance, she’d be out the door and gone. That worried him the most. That she’d leave again, only this time he’d never get her back.
