Chapter
5
Bobby
Four days. How could the woman manage to dodge me for four damn days? If Belle saw me walking towards her, she would turn around and walk in the other direction. If there was a team meeting, she made like a ghost the second it was over and disappeared before I could say a word to her. Now, here I stood, ten o’clock at night, in the breezeway outside of my hotel room staring at the cigarette in my hand like it was the question of life.
To light or not to light?
I hadn’t lit up a smoke in over two years. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me, either. I’d started smoking after having Mom and Dad tell me Belle had disappeared from Sylvania. The stress of not knowing where she was, or if she was safe, had driven me to bumming a cigarette from a buddy in the barracks. The residual pain that centered around my heart the following months after the letter caused me to start buying my own packs of cancer sticks. Every time the phone rang, my hopes rose sky-high it was my parents telling me she’d come home, but Belle never came home; the crash of disappointment from those phone calls resulted into trips to the walkway outside of my barrack’s door so I could light one up and puff away some of the pain.
That was fifteen years ago and, since then, I’d quit smoking six times; mainly because Mom would bitch about how it was going to kill me and who would give her grandbabies if I up and croaked from cancer? I’d been free and clear of the little, white sticks of death for the last twenty-seven months, so I’d thought I had the habit kicked for good this time. Yet, here I stood, holding one I’d bummed from Riley in my hand, looking at the damn thing while listening to the internal debate going on in my head on whether I was going to light the son of a bitch or not. All because I couldn’t handle not having her in my life. How lame was that? This lack of control shit made me a pansy of the highest order.
“Don’t do it, Baker,” Jaxon’s gruff voice commanded me. He stepped out of the shadows that blackened out the end of the breezeway on his right. How long had he been standing there? I didn’t know because that motherfucker moved around as if he was made of smoke and shadows, instead of flesh and bone like the rest of us. One minute there, gone the next, without ever making a sound. If I were a lesser man, I would have pissed myself at his sudden appearance. Instead, I chose to lift an inquiring eyebrow in his direction.
“You sound like a negotiator in one of those awful movie scenes where the guy is standing on the ledge of the building, threatening to jump.”
Jaxon grunted in disgust. “It may not be dire, asshole, but I’d hate to see you throw all your hard work down the drain because you’re letting your emotions get the best of you. You’re a highly trained soldier. It’s a shame you’re not using the brains God gave you and the skills the Army taught you to handle this better.”
My jaw bunched in frustration. “Really? What should I do? Kidnap her and keep her hostage until she agrees to hear me out? I think Uncle Sam would have a problem with that plan because I’d have to go off the grid for a while to do it.”
Shaking his head, he said, “You’re not a pimply-faced, little punk sitting in his boxers at home playing war games on his computer. You spent eleven years in the Army as a Ranger, and you’re telling me they taught you nothing about how to approach a mission? You know nothing about strategy? You have absolutely no understanding of tactics?”
Cocking my head to the side as I considered his words, I thought about what he was trying to say. “You’re telling me to dial down the emotions and analyze Belle as if she’s a target; recon her movements, figure out what makes her tick, then find the best way to break her down so I can reach my endgame?”
“Isn’t that a better idea than shooting two years of hard work down the shitter by sticking that disgusting thing in your mouth and smoking it?”
Looking back down to the cigarette in my hand, I decided Jaxon was right. Dropping it to the ground, I used the bottom of my boot to crush it to pieces. When I looked back up to Jaxon, it was to see the smallest hint of one side of his mouth tipped up.
The slight grin disappeared, though, when he nodded his head towards the decimated cigarette and then said, “You tell Sullivan if he gives you another poison stick, I’ll kick his ass.”
Then he disappeared back into the shadows, leaving me alone again. Only this time I wasn’t standing there like a jerk with my thumb up my ass, with no idea what to do. No, now I had motivation again. Belle couldn’t avoid me forever. One way or another, I’d find a way to get her alone to talk to me. Even if I had to grab her and tie her up to keep her in one place long enough to listen to what I had to say.
~~~
Annabelle
Three days later…
Frustrated. Tired. Seriously pissed off. I was feeling all of that and more as I sat at the piece of crap table in Declan Sullivan’s room, holding a hand of playing cards and drinking cheap beer. This was after yet another pointless information and strategy meeting with the EX Ops team. It was a week after our initial undercover surveillance at the Big Bull Bar, and nothing was happening. When I say nothing, I mean nothing. Not one teeny, tiny movement from the bar involving those crates. No chatter from our snitches or undercover officers concerning our investigation. No word from our informant inside the Mexican cartel. No progress whatsoever. I was starting to feel downright itchy to get this case solved. When I got itchy, things got twitchy, like my left eye and my trigger finger.
Of course, I didn’t know who I wanted to shoot more. The assholes behind this black market problem, or Bobby Baker for being a constant pain in my ass. Every time I turned around, there he was. Asking for a minute of my time. Asking to take me out to dinner. Asking me if we could get naked to have hot, angry sex and then I could go back to hating him again after we were done.
Okay, he hadn’t exactly asked for the hot, angry sex, but I could dream about it, right? I mean, dag-gum. The man had almost doubled in size from when I’d last seen him. He had all of these delicious muscles now that silently begged for me to explore them. When they rippled as he moved—even if it was simply him walking from one side of the room to the other—it was like they were talking to me. Tempting me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear his crazy ass was doing it on purpose! Was it possible for a wily man and his rippling muscles to seduce a woman to the dark side? As I considered the possibilities to that answer—absentmindedly grabbing my bottle of beer off the table to take a swig—I realized the room was too quiet. Looking up from my cards, I saw all eyes were on me.
“What?”
Declan cocked an amused eyebrow. “Did you feel like playing that hand of cards you’re holding, or did you want to have us bronze and memorialize them for something?”
Looking back down to my cards, which were shit, I decided to fold. Putting my cards on the table, I waved for the others to continue with the game. There were four of us in this room. Declan, Riley, myself, and him. I was still ignoring him, though. The three men had an easy camaraderie that made it obvious they not only got along, but they spent a lot of time together, too. Somehow, Declan had talked me into staying for drinks and a game of poker after the meeting, only to blindside me with Bobby as the cards were being dealt. I’d been set up. Apparently, you could trust these off-the-grid, special ops-type guys about as far as you could throw them. Sneaky jerks.
Since I didn’t want to flounce out of there like some dramatic prom queen, I chose to sit here quietly, start the process of peeling the label off my second beer, and play poker with half of my mind hatching a plausible escape plan. One minute, I was quietly picking at the corner of the bottle’s label, the next I was staring at the whisky bottle and shot glass that had magically appeared in front of me.
Tada! Hello temptation!
Giving a suspicious, squinty eye to the three men watching me, I asked, “What are y’all up to here?” My finger waved around in a circle to encompass what was probably a terrible idea in a bottle in front of me.
Riley shrugged. “We’re not up to anything. You look too tense. Throw back some shots and chill the fuck out. None of us are on call, it’s ten o’clock at night, and you might as well enjoy yourself.”
After a short lived staring contest with Riley, which I lost—dammit—I cracked the bottle open, filled up my shot glass, and threw it back like a seasoned drinking pro. I even managed not to gasp from the burn of the fiery liquid going down my throat; although, it felt like it was lava and not alcohol. I was playing it off brilliantly like I drank shots all the time instead of the once in a blue moon I actually did. Riley grabbed the bottle and poured out four more shots, one for each of us, and I knew then and there I was doomed. This had all the ingredients of a recipe for disaster—alcohol, temperamental female emotions, and drool worthy muscles.
Well, they always said the road to hell was paved in good intentions. That must mean, with all of my bad intentions, my trip would be bone jarringly bumpy, traveling at the kind of speeds one saw on the Autobahn with a predestined crash at the end and not a seat belt in sight.
~~~
Bobby
Men don’t wax poetic on how they feel about other men. It was in the unwritten man rules somewhere that we were allowed to burp, fart and scratch our balls around each other, but there would be no wordy displays of affection. Anyone who violated that rule would have to turn their man card in. Even if the other guy was my best friend and had covered my ass on more missions than I could count. At this moment in time, though, I was willing to make a serious exception to the man rules since Declan had talked Belle into staying for a game of poker and beer.
Now I was on the verge of telling Riley that Belle and I would name our first child after him because he was loading her up with booze. It was a low-down dirty play, but she wasn’t giving me another in. If I could get her drunk, then get her talking, it could be the breakthrough I’d been looking for. In essence, maneuvering her into a drunken corner in order to keep her in one spot long enough for me to talk to her because, God knew, the woman wouldn’t give me the time of day otherwise.
The game continued, and it was easy to see Belle was quickly slipping into a drunken stupor since she’d been squinting at her cards for the last four hands, trying to figure out in her head what she was holding. As if that wasn’t cute enough, now she had the tip of her tongue peeking out of the side of her mouth like the crap hand of cards she was holding was a three thousand year old treasure map, and she was trying to figure it out to get the treasure. When I looked over to see the amused grins on Declan and Riley’s faces aimed at Belle because she was once again holding up the game, it caused me to shake my head in feigned disgust. It was easy to see, after all these years, my girl still had no idea she was a natural at being cute.
Looking back to her, I muttered, “Baby, you going to play that hand or keep staring at it?”
Her head flew up and, for a moment, I braced myself for what was probably going to be a seriously pissed off woman’s rant about how I had no right to call her baby anymore. Instead, she threw her hands up in the air in disgust, and then plopped them down on the table with not a care in the world she was flashing her cards to everyone. Huffing in annoyance, she exclaimed, “Gimme a second here, Ace! I’m tryin’ to concentrate on what I’m doin’!”
My breath caught in my chest. You could never pay me enough to admit this aloud, hell, I’d never let anyone torture this fact out of me, but hearing her say the name ‘Ace’ for the first time in fifteen years was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. Hearing one little name again made my chest constrict painfully for a few seconds before slowly turning everything inside me into something warm and good. It was the closest thing I’d felt to being whole in a long damn time.
Not that Belle gave me any time to enjoy the nice warm feeling. Upon realization of what she’d said, all the color drained out of her face, and she was halfway out of the Sullivan’s room before I could blink. Not that I was letting her get away from me this time. Throwing my cards on the table, I hauled ass after her, leaving the smirking Sullivan brothers in my dust. Luckily, the alcohol had slowed her down, and she hadn’t made it very far down the breezeway when I caught sight of her again. By the time I was in arm’s reach of her, she was unknowingly four steps short of my hotel room’s door. Opportunity wasn’t knocking, he was telling me to haul my girl, kicking and screaming, into my room and kick the damn door down to get there, if I had to.
Grabbing Belle’s arm to stop her escape, I swung her body around until she was standing sideways in front of me, somewhat hysterical and confused. Before she could try to get away from me again, I scooped her legs out from underneath her, cradling her body in my arms like the precious package that it was. As I opened the door to my room, she started struggling to get away. It was too late for her, though. In my room—with the door closed, locked, and my body standing in front of it—there was no escape. Gently setting her feet on the floor, her body wobbled unsteadily from her inebriated state as she tried to slap my hands away from her.
“Gawd, Bobby! What in the hell are you doing? Get out of the way so I can go home!”
“No.”
She froze in front of me at my answer. “No?”
“No.”
“Why no?”
“Because, if I let you out that door, then you’ll go back to this little game you’ve been playing at avoiding me and, baby, I’m tired of the fucking game.”
Belle’s mouth dropped open as she stared back at me in shock, mixed with resentment. A moment of silence passed between us before she angrily hissed, “You think I’m playing a game with you?”
My heart was thundering in my chest. This was it. Finally! Finally, we were going to have this come-to-Jesus talk that was so overdue between us that if the talk itself had been a library book, the late fee would resemble the national debt.
Planting my hands on my hips, I growled, “You trying to tell me that you haven’t been playing some kind of game? You disappear for fifteen years without so much as a clue to where you’re headed, then waltz back into my life and try to pretend I don’t exist? You don’t have the kind of love we had, Belle. Hell, you don’t have a man like me—who’s had his mouth on you, his cock in you—and then pretend like he doesn’t exist. Now, I’m telling you I’m tired of this game and I’m tired of fucking waiting for you to give me a second of your time so we can talk about this shit.”
Throwing her hands up in the air, she stumbled backwards a few steps and then screeched, “There’s nothing to talk about, Bobby! Besides, I didn't have the man's mouth and cock. I had the boy's. There's a difference. A man, a real man that is, keeps his promises. Like the ones he made to come back. A boy hasn't grown up enough to realize how important promises are to keep.”
My whole body jerked as if she’d slapped me in the face. It might have been words spoken instead of physical actions, but her accusation, sure as shit, had hit me hard enough to feel physical. Ignoring the way my airway suddenly felt closed off, I rasped, “I fucked up. I get that. I tried to make it right. Hell, I’m still trying to make it right. But. You. Won’t. Let. Me.”
The next thing I knew, she had her hand in my face, like she could stop the words coming out of my mouth as long as that hand was there to block them, which was a joke because, at the moment, she was so drunk she couldn’t stop a fly from landing on her. The momentum of throwing her hand in my face had caused her to start a slow lean to the right and she didn’t look like the lean was going to stop until she was face first in the carpet. If she didn’t stop flailing around like this, she was going to fall and hurt herself. “Stay still and calm down.”
Ignoring me, she continued waving her arms around. “Don’t you get it? We’ve been over for fifteen years!”
Her body tipped dangerously the other way and, for a second, I thought for sure she was going to go head first into the wall now, instead of the carpet. The thought of her accidentally hurting herself was driving me crazy. I ground out between my teeth, “Calm down and give me your attention, dammit.”
Instead of doing as I asked, she screeched, “What in the world do you think we need to talk about?”
I grabbed her by the hips to keep her from falling on her ass. The gesture clearly wasn’t appreciated since she started trying to pry my hands off her. Ignoring her attempts to remove me, I pulled her closer until we were only an inch apart and she had no choice except to look me in the face.
The pupils were dilated in those big, beautiful, green eyes of hers. She was panting and clearly more nervous than outraged. Most of all, she was vulnerable and doing her best to hide it. What she didn’t understand, yet, was I had no intentions of hurting the vulnerable side of her. I wanted to do the exact opposite. I wanted to protect it and her, so nothing could ever hurt her again the way I had.
“Do I have your attention now?”
Eyes wide, she nodded.
“Good, now listen closely because this is important and I want to make sure it penetrates somewhere through that thick skull of yours. We were never over, Belle, not as far as I’m concerned. Maybe on hold until I found you again, but never really over. I’ve been looking for you since the day you left Sylvania so I could tell you that I fucked up. I should have never sent you that letter.”
Belle’s breathing was ragged now. Eyes watery, threatening tears at any given second. Still, she didn’t say a word.
“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, baby? I’m trying to say I’m sorry. I was so fucking stupid and I will go to my grave regretting how badly I hurt you, but I didn’t just hurt you, I hurt us both. I’ve been walking around all these years in pain with what feels like these chunks of my soul missing. Moving through life with a heart that felt as if it wasn’t actually beating, and how could it? It wasn’t possible because everything that was ever good about me was missing and it was missing because I didn’t have you.”
Tears were streaming down her face now. She face planted into my chest as sobs racked her body uncontrollably. I’d started worrying I’d messed this all up more than fixed it because she was seriously drunk and crying so goddamn hard it wasn’t possible for her to breathe. If I hadn’t been holding her up, she would be a heap on the floor.
Raising my hands to frame her face, I tipped it gently back, wiped the tears away, and then made sure she was looking in my eyes again before I continued, “What I’m trying to say, Belle, is that I still lov-“
That fast she was on me. Practically climbing up my body with her own, causing me to stumble backwards until I landed against the door. Her lips slammed into mine as she forcefully thrust her tongue into my mouth; it was desperate and wild. She was holding onto me with her hands as if she was terrified to let me go and let me finish my sentence. That bothered me, too, but she felt so good against me that I couldn’t bring myself to push her away and ask her why she didn’t want to hear me say the words. Her soft tongue tangled with mine and the taste of whisky, beer and her own sweet essence was a heady combination that sent my senses whirling. One of her hands slid up into my hair just like she used to do when we were younger and, in that moment, I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven.
Moving on autopilot, my hands slid down her back, over her behind and didn’t stop until they hit the tops of her thighs which allowed me to pick her up so she was pressed tight against me. She wrapped those sexy legs of hers around my waist and I held onto her by her lush bottom, an ass cheek in each hand, while I walked us quickly forward until my knees hit the edge of the bed. Holding her tightly, never stopping the hungry kisses, I moved us gently down onto the bed until she lay underneath me and I was settled between her thighs. Her kisses were starting to become a bit sloppier, but it didn’t stop me from appreciating the feel of her lips on my own.
I thought when she’d used my nickname earlier that life couldn’t get any sweeter. I was wrong. So very wrong. Holding her like this, kissing her like it was the most important thing I would ever do, I knew this would never be enough. I would always want more. Want to feel the soft glide of her bare skin against my own. Want to use my hands to pet and stroke her body until she was burning up from the inside-out for me. Need to kiss her all over so there wasn’t a spot on her left untouched by my mouth. Feel her surrounding me in every sense of the word for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t do any of those things, though. Not now while she was drunk so she could try and use this night to keep me at arm’s length again tomorrow.
I let more of my body weight settle on top of her so I became too heavy for her to grind against me anymore; effectively trapping her beneath me. Then I started to slow our kisses down so that, eventually—after a few aggravated growls on her part—we were now enjoying each other’s touches with long, lingering effects instead of racing towards something else. Her body started to relax into the bed, the movement of her hands moving up and down my back becoming sluggish, and I knew she was moments from passing out from the alcohol.
Pulling away from her lips, she gave a soft mewl of disappointment, and then quieted when I rolled to my side, taking her with me. My right arm became a pillow for her head and my left arm clamped tightly around her waist, pressing her soft curves into my front. I should have loosened my grip, giving her a little breathing room, but I didn’t want to take the chance she’d try to get away from me again, so I didn’t. Belle buried her face against my chest as I felt both of her hands fist the fabric of my shirt. Kissing the top of her head, I patiently waited while her body’s weight slowly went limp against me and she started slipping into sleep.
Just when I thought she was out, she mumbled into my chest. Slowly rubbing my hand up and down her back to soothe her, I felt her raise her face up a little before she mumbled, “Missed you, Ace. I’m so, so sorry.”
Was she awake and trying to talk to me after all? My heart skipped a beat at her admission that she missed me because I’d missed her so fucking much, too. Pulling back, I looked down at her face, but it was slack with sleep, except for the cute little furrow between her eyebrows. She was talking in her sleep. Well, at least her subconscious was willing to admit she missed me, but what in the hell could she be sorry for? I was the asshole that screwed it all up between us.