Irresistibly Mine Page 19

  He had to go.

  "Why do you rescue people?" Harlan asked. "And don't give me the bullshit about how it's what you were born to do. I'm tired of that shit, and neither of us have time for bullshit anymore. I have about five more minutes and then I'm taking my family out of here, and we're going to go home, and I'm going to make sure the kids know that they're safe and secure forever." His eyes were blazing. "I've been through hell and back with you, Blue. I know there's shit that drives you that you never talk about. So, I'm asking again, why the hell do you do it?"

  Blue tensed. "I don't want to talk about it."

  "Did someone you know get kidnapped?"

  Blue's gaze shot to Harlan, and he was unable to keep the shock off his face.

  Understanding dawned on Harlan's face. "Son of a bitch. I knew it. Who was it?"

  Blue's instinct was to deny it, but the denial died before it reached his lips. This was the man who had cheated death with him hundreds of times, who had dared breach so many lethal boundaries, in order to save innocents. He'd give his life for this man, and he knew Harlan would do the same. Suddenly, he was tired of the shields that he kept around him. He was tired of being isolated. Chloe had brought down the shields, and suddenly it felt like too much effort to raise them again. He took a deep breath. "My little brother. I was babysitting him, and I wasn't paying attention." He shrugged. "Longest week of my life."

  Harlan studied him. "Damn. How'd that turn out?"

  Blue shrugged. "They got him back. He wasn't hurt."

  "When are you going to stop blaming yourself?"

  Blue tensed. "Never."

  "That's bullshit right there." Harlan turned away, and leaned his forearms on the railing, looking out across the woods. "You know no matter how many people you rescue, you can never change the past. You'll never be able to take that week back. You'll never be able to erase that from your brother's mind."

  Blue ground his jaw, and leaned on the railing beside Harlan. "I know that."

  "And since Renée has a full staff, you're not some irreplaceable source of victory for these kidnapped victims. Any of us could do it."

  "I know." Blue's voice was clipped, his shoulders tense.

  "So, why do you still do it, then? It's not going to change the past. It's not because no one else can do it. Why do you push yourself so hard? Why can't you let it go?"

  "Because..." But Blue didn't have an answer. Not when Harlan put it that way. "I don't know. Maybe it keeps the demons away."

  Harlan slanted a glance at him. "Does it keep them away?"

  "No." They both knew damn well about Blue's nightmares. They'd slept in the woods together too many times for Harlan not to be aware of the nightmares that haunted Blue's sleep.

  "When you get on the plane tomorrow, you're walking away from a woman who loves you. A woman who needs you. You better make damn sure you're doing it for the right reasons, because saving strangers isn't any more important than saving someone you love."

  Blue said nothing, but anger was fermenting inside him. "What I do is important."

  "Yep. They're both important. So you have to pick."

  "I've made my choice. I made my choice years ago."

  "Yeah, but you have a chance to make it again." Harlan looked over at him. "If you go on this mission, and you get shot in the chest, and you're lying there, bleeding out in some bullshit South American hellhole, what are you going to think about? Are you going to think that you did all you could and you're good with it? Or are you going to think about a woman in Maine who has never had a home, who has never had a family, who has never opened her heart to anyone…except you?"

  The muscles in Blue's chest tightened, clamping around his lungs like a vice. "You don't know anything about Chloe. You're making shit up."

  "Maybe, but Emma spent several hours talking to me about her earlier, and she was concerned. She loves Chloe, and we both owe her a debt that can never be repaid." He looked over at Blue. "Do you realize how hard Chloe had to work to get Mattie and Robbie placed with us? I had majorly fucked up, and I almost ruined it all. But Chloe believed in me, and she believed in Emma, and she fought like hell to bring Robbie and Mattie into our lives. That woman gave me the most important things in my entire life, and yet she has no one to fight for her, no one except for Emma, and I'm on that train too, which means I'm going to ride your ass about her."

  Blue ground his jaw, refusing to look at Harlan. It didn't surprise him that Chloe had fought like hell for them. She cared more than anyone he'd ever met, and she was so damn strong. "She's lucky to have you looking out for her." And he meant it. When he left town, he knew Harlan and Emma would have Chloe's back. She didn't need him.

  "You know who else I look out for?" Harlan asked. "You. You saved my life a million times. Without you, I wouldn't be standing here alive, let alone living this life. Robbie and Mattie wouldn't have a dad, and Emma wouldn't have a husband. So, as much I owe Chloe, I owe you the same."

  Blue looked over at Harlan. "You don't owe me anything. We're partners. You've done the same for me."

  "Walk away, Blue. You've done all you need to do. It's time to hang it up, and stop running from the shadows that won't leave you alone."

  "I'm not running —"

  "You are. I know it, because I did the same thing." Harlan sighed. "At least take a couple more days. Give it a chance. Give her a chance. She needs you. And you need her, to be honest. Your job is killing you. I can see it in your eyes."

  Blue ground his jaw. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm not ready to walk away from my job. Maybe someday, but not now. And neither is Chloe. So, let it go."

  Harlan sighed, but he inclined his head. "Fine, but at least think about it. For me."

  Blue sighed. "Yeah, sure. I'll think about it. Good?"

  "Good." Harlan held up his beer, and the two men tapped the bottles against each other. "To teammates."

  "To teammates," Blue agreed. But as the glass clinked, he knew that he couldn't come back to Birch Crossing again. Harlan's argument was tempting, and so was Chloe...a temptation that he couldn't afford to succumb to.

  Chapter 23

  This was one night when Blue wasn't going to fall asleep.

  Not because he had to worry about someone sneaking up on him with a knife or a gun while he was asleep, but because he didn't want to miss even one second of feeling Chloe in his arms.

  He pulled her tighter against him, smiling when he heard her sleepy murmur as she burrowed more tightly against his chest. They were both naked, intertwined along the length of their bodies, the warm heat circulating through him like the sunshine bursting through clouds that didn't want to part.

  He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent he'd already gotten used to, the one he associated so much with her. Eucalyptus, fresh air, and the faint scent of something flowery.

  They'd made love four times since everyone had left. The first time had been hot and intense, but this last time had been something so beautiful that he still couldn't stop thinking about it. There had been something soulful and powerful in their final connection, kisses that seemed to strip him bare, caresses that wrapped around his heart, and whispers that seemed to settle in every cell of his body.

  Her breathing was deep and even, and he knew that she'd finally fallen asleep a few minutes ago. Like him, she had wanted to stay up all night, trying to take advantage of every last minute together. He'd never felt so desperate in his life to make time stand still, and yet it had still slipped through their fingers, the inexorable march of time through the night.

  His phone dinged, and he reached across Chloe to silence it. When he picked it up he saw he had two text messages from Renée. He also saw that it was five minutes after four. He had to be out the door in ten minutes to head toward the airport.

  Ten fucking minutes.

  For a split second, his fingers tightened around his phone, the temptation to text Renée to tell her he wasn't coming so great that his hand actually cramped. He ev
en slid his finger across the screen to open her text messages. The first one was the video that she had promised to send, but he didn't even bother to open it. The second one struck him hard.

  * * *

  Blue. Harlan texted me and said he didn't think you're ready to return to the field. Do you need a couple more days? Let me know. I have someone else available if necessary.

  * * *

  He stared at the text, reading it over and over again. She had handed him an out, an excuse. All he needed to do was type a few words, and he'd have a reprieve, another couple days to be with Chloe, to take that time to think about it like he'd promised Harlan. His thumb hovered over the screen, tempted, so damn tempted, but then his gaze flicked to the video just above that text. It was still, a blurry image, but it was clear that there was a man's face. A man, a father, whose son had come home because Blue had found him.

  Blue stared at that image, and his gut tightened. He knew he had no choice. There was no way he could walk away from that job. Yeah, maybe Renée had other people, but those other people weren't him.

  Hardening himself, he turned off the screen, sending it into darkness. He set it back on the nightstand, and pressed a kiss to Chloe's hair, tightening his arms around her. He had only a few minutes left. Should he wake her up, or just go?

  Maybe it would be easier to just go. Easier for both of them. Goodbyes sucked, and he had a feeling this one would suck more than any other he'd had in his life. It would be merciful to both of them if he just got up and left, sliding away in the darkness of the early morning to allow both of them to continue the lives they were destined to lead.

  His arms tightened involuntarily around her, pulling her tighter at the mere thought of getting out of that bed and leaving her behind. It was that need to hold onto her more tightly that made him realize that he needed to just leave. He needed to just get up, get dressed, and get out, or he was afraid he never would.

  "Blue?" She stirred in his arms, taking away his choice, taking away the option of sneaking away without facing what he was doing. "What time is it?"

  He closed his eyes, his throat tightening against the words he had to speak. "It's a little after four."

  "Four?" She suddenly sounded much more awake, and she sat up, the sheet falling to her waist. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were sleepy, her brow furrowed. "How soon do you have to leave?"

  "About five minutes."

  She looked at him then, her eyes full of emotion. He tensed, trying to prepare himself for what she might say, for her to ask him to stay, to give up what mattered to him. But she surprised him. She didn't ask him for anything.

  "I'll be right back. I have something for you." Before he could respond, she scooted out from his grasp and darted out of the room, not even bothering with clothes.

  He heard her feet running down the stairs, and he leaned back in bed, clasping his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. The moon was full, full enough to cast silvery shadows across the old ceiling. Her clothes were still in the suitcase on the floor, and at the foot of the bed, on the wall, was that same painting of the picnic. It was barely visible in the dim light, but he knew what was on it. He knew it was family, celebration, all the things that neither of them had in their lives.

  He ground his jaw, knowing that he should get up and get his pants on. His shoes. His shirt. He needed to get the hell out of there in about two minutes.

  But he couldn't make himself get up. He just listened to the sound of Chloe's feet racing around downstairs, knowing she would be back up there in a moment and climb into bed with him. He'd have one more minute, maybe two of feeling her against him.

  He could get dressed in about five seconds, and he was only going to allow that much time.

  Anticipation rolled through him as he heard her feet on the stairs as she raced back up the steps. She ran into the room and leapt onto the bed, bouncing next to him, her eyes bright and wide-awake. She had something clasped in her hand, small enough that he couldn't see what it was.

  Regret suddenly flashed through him. He wished he had something for her. He hadn't even thought of it, not that he'd been out of her house and would've had a chance to buy anything. But he wished he had something he could offer her, something for her to hold onto as she went forward in her life, something to remind her of how amazing he thought she was.

  Chloe sat cross-legged on the bed, entirely unconcerned about modesty as she faced him. He smiled and ran his hand along her thigh, enjoying the fact she felt comfortable enough with him to simply be herself. "I'm going to miss you," he said. The minute the words were out, he grimaced. He hadn't meant to say that aloud. Hell, he hadn't even meant to think it. But when he saw her face soften, he was glad it had slipped out.

  "And I will miss you, my delicious heroic rescuer." Chloe held up her hands. They were cupped around something. "So, remember how I told you about my backpack I had growing up? The denim one? How everything that mattered to me was in that backpack, and I took it with me all the time?"

  He nodded. "Of course." No chance he'd ever forget her story about her backpack, and how her ex had made her toss it.

  She smiled. "It had about twenty pockets, and I used to shove everything I could into it. I had so little, so what I did have, I treasured."

  Blue's heart tightened at the image that flashed through his mind of a young Chloe, hiking a heavy backpack around with her everywhere she went, every second of the day, terrified of losing what little she had. He thought of the nice house he'd grown up in. His parents. His brother. Their big backyard. He had it all, and Chloe had made due with one small backpack.

  "Oh, no." She shook her head in warning. "Don't give me that look. I don't want sympathy right now, so stop it. Got it?"

  He grinned, appreciating the raw strength that was such a part of her. "Okay, I promise no sympathy for you. I'll just feel sorry for myself that in about two minutes I'm going to be deprived of your presence. You can give me sympathy if you want for that. I won't turn it down."

  Chloe grinned. "See, that's why I have this present for you. Hold out your hands."

  Reluctantly, Blue lifted his hand from her leg, and held it out, palm up.

  "Close your eyes."

  Blue grinned, but he did as instructed. He felt her gentle touch as her fingertips brushed his palm, then something cold and hard settled against his skin. She gently closed his hand around it, and he realized it was something metal. It had a ring, and a thin chain, around some sort of metal disk.

  She squeezed his hand between hers, holding his fingers together. "When I was little, I had a book about a little girl who went to France. She had tea parties, and went to the Eiffel Tower, and found a little dog named Tiffany, who became her best friend. I loved that story so much. It represented a world where dreams come true."

  He opened his eyes, needing to see her face as she told him the story. Her eyes were vivid and expressive, watching him with open honesty.

  With her hands still wrapped around his, she continued. "When I was nine, I drew a picture of the Eiffel Tower for art class. My art teacher asked me if I had ever been to Paris, and I told her the story about the little girl and Tiffany. The next day she brought me a keychain. It had a disk on it that had an engraving of the Eiffel Tower on it. I put the keychain on my backpack, and I kept it there. Every night when I went to bed I would run my fingers over it, and imagine the most magical thing I could think of, and pretend I was there. Paris became my special place, and the keychain helped me forget what my life actually was. Instead, I could pretend I was someone else, living another life." She released her hands from his, allowing him to open his fingers.

  He looked down. Resting on the palm of his hand was a worn, scratched, metal key ring with an engraving of the Eiffel Tower. The engraving was almost smooth now, as if little fingers had rubbed it a thousand times over the years. He suddenly felt like his throat was clogged, and he looked up at her. "I can't take this from you. You kept it all this ti
me."

  Chloe closed his fingers around it again, this time squeezing her hand tightly around his. "I want you to have it. You're as close to any kind of home that I've ever had in my life. When I'm with you, I feel like it's where I was meant to be. When I'm with you, I stop looking ahead, or to the sides, or behind me. I just want to be where I am. That's what I always thought home would be. A place where you're simply happy to be present, and you don't want to be anywhere else, or doing anything else." She smiled at him, a tender, intimate smile just for him. "You're my Eiffel Tower, Blue. But you don't have one. I want you to have this, so that when you're off in those dangerous places trying to save other people, that you can run your fingers over this, and be transported back to this moment, with me, with us, when we were together."

  Blue's throat tightened, and the emotions surged over him, plunging through him with fierce strength. His fingers closed tightly over the keychain, and he slid his hand through her hair, pulling her up against him. He kissed her, taking her mouth in a kiss that said everything he didn't have any idea how to articulate with words. How much she meant to him. How much he would treasure the Eiffel Tower keychain. How much he admired her. How much he loved her…

  He froze, his lips still on hers as the thought rushed through his head. How much he loved her. How much he loved her. Son of a bitch. Was it possible? He pulled back, searching her face, searching for answers to questions he didn't even realize he wanted to know.

  Chloe smiled, and set her hand on his cheek, her fingers brushing against his whiskers. "I love you, Blue," she said. "If our lives were different, if we were different, if we didn't both have things we had to do… God," she whispered, "I can't believe how hard it is to let you go. You make me want to crawl under these covers, snuggle all morning, then get up and sell yarn, learn how to knit, and watch you putting up more shelves for a bunch of wisecracking old ladies."