50. Remy
Chapter fifty
Remy
I’ve never watched a woman sleep until the day I had Claire in my bed during her recovery from their trafficking attempt. It was weird, how I couldn’t bring myself to look away from her for long, how I almost feared she would stop breathing, or that she’d disappear if I had my back to her too long, but I didn’t question it.
I’ve spent plenty of time watching her sleep this past week, since she hasn’t done much else. But watching her now, something about her is different. The muscles beneath her smooth skin are more relaxed, her brows aren’t pulled together the slightest bit, and she doesn’t clutch the sheet to her chest the way I’ve seen her do every day since she seized on us in the hospital.
She looks… peaceful. So peaceful that I don’t dare move.
I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, but at some time in the night, she moved toward me. Her fingers are splayed across my chest, her body tucked against mine. It feels right, in a way that nothing has in years… not since I’ve been able to understand just how depraved the world around us is.
Claire is a little bit of heaven in the hell I’ve been condemned to, and I don’t think anyone would blame me for holding so tight to it. I’ve been stupid in my attempts to deny myself, to deny her. I thought I couldn’t have her because others needed me but isn’t that the whole point of a relationship? Pretty sure it’s even in the vows somewhere… “Forsaking all others”.
But I’m not the only one who feels this way. Kent has already made that vow, and his wife was taken from him. We know where she is now, and I owe it to him to help him get her back. He didn’t leave me when it was Claire, so I won’t leave him now.
I stay still as long as I possibly can, afraid that shattering the moment will also shatter her peace. I know it’s been hard-won, little by little. When I finally slip away from her, I hate myself for leaving.
I hate Rich more for being entirely too chipper when I walk into the industrial kitchen to find him eating from a pot of mashed potatoes on the stove.
“Morning.” He grins around a mouthful of food as I head to the coffee maker.
“You’re cooking in Elaine’s kitchen?” I grumble, knowing that my housekeeper is going to be pissed if he makes a mess. Never mind the fact that he made mashed potatoes at eight a.m. before she even rose for the day. With that thought in mind, I make the maximum amount of coffee the pot can hold, hoping I don’t fuck it up this time.
“Not me. They’re cold.” Rich shrugs, unbothered, and shovels another spoonful into his mouth.
I shake my head, scrubbing my hand over my face to try and chase away the last of my irritation.
“So, what’s your game?” I ask him, when I open my eyes to find him scraping the rest of the food from the bottom of the pot. He glances at me, confused, before putting the pan into the sink and rinsing it clean. When he turns back to face me, there’s a crinkle between his brows.
“My game?”
“Yeah. Your game. I’m done with this vigilante shit. I was looking for revenge, but I found something better. I know Kent already told you I’m not going to keep doing this, which is why you iced me out yesterday. I’ll help him recover his wife.”
Rich nods his understanding. “Honestly, can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t want to risk it all either, if I already had it all. ”
I want to tell him I don’t have it all, but I kind of do. Maybe Claire isn’t quite back to herself yet, but she will be, and then I will have it all. Because I don’t need anything more than her.
“That’s the difference between Kent and I, though.” Rich says. “I went to the military because I didn’t have any other idea what to do. But Kent? He’s always wanted to be a hero. This shit fills his cup, or whatever the saying is.”
“Speaking of filling cups…” I hold up a mug in offering, and when he nods, I pour him some of the coffee that’s churned out into the decanter.
The slight grimace when he tastes it suggests what I confirm when I taste it, nearly scalding my tongue on it.
Fucking disgusting.
Damn it. I can taste the grounds, and when I peer down at it, it somehow looks like a weak tea. I abandon it and turn back to find Rich doing the same. Costa Rica has some of the best coffee beans in the world, and I can’t make a good cup to save my life.
“So, you’re not going to stick by his side? I told him the keys to the kingdom are his. He can have my bank account, the hotel, the jet… I don’t want any of it. If he wants to keep going on these missions so he can play the part of someone’s hero, I’m happy to give him every tool in my arsenal. But what about you? We’re going to get his wife back. Where do you fit into that?”
“I don’t know.” Rich says honestly. “I don’t know if I can turn my back on them, but this was never my fight.”
I don’t press him for any more of an explanation, because it would be hypocritical of me. The things we’ve seen, what we’ve done… it’s the kind of thing that alters your brain chemistry. It takes everything you are, everything you believe in, twists it up until it’s something else entirely, and then spits it back out. He doesn’t have any skin in this game, which is exactly why I’m curious what he’ll do when I take my bride and run off to a little cottage on the French countryside. It would be nice to live in the middle of a field, somewhere, but then I remember Claire’s love for water. Maybe if we live on a lake? I’ll leave it to her to decide.
“I have a cousin who died the second year I was enlisted.” Rich says, so suddenly that it takes me a minute to remember that I’d even asked him a question. “He was murdered.”
“Shit.” I mutter. “What happened?”
“He was shot and left to bleed out in a bar parking lot.” Rich’s jaw tenses. “His boyfriend is in prison right now, but I don’t know. It never really felt like justice was served, you know?”
“Sometimes it never gets served… unless we take it upon ourselves to serve it.”
He points a finger in my direction, as if I’ve just said exactly what he was thinking. “So maybe I’ll serve it up.”
“Might be kind of hard to do if he’s already in prison.”
“Mm.” He shrugs, as if that’s just a minor detail. “I don’t know. I always had my doubts about whether he did it. Besides, he’s only in on some bullshit charge that’ll have him out in a few years… sooner, if he’s behaving in there.” Rich shrugs again, like he’s realizing that thinking about this isn’t serving him right now. It’s just as well, since Kent joins us in the next minute.
“Jesus.” I mutter. “Did you sleep?”
He looks like shit, and I know the answer to the question so I’m not sure why I even asked.
“Coffee will do,” he says, gesturing behind me. Rich chuckles as I step aside, deciding to let him figure it out on his own. We both watch as Kent pours himself a cup, barely aware of his audience, blows on the top, and takes a sip… which he immediately spits back into the cup. “Christ, Boudreaux. This your swill?”
I can’t help laughing as he wipes at his tongue like that will erase the memory of the taste and then stalks over to the sink to dump the whole pot down the drain. He may be mad at me right now, but over the last few months, we’ve formed a casual enough friendship that I don’t feel bad watching him cringe at the taste. “I’d offer you mashed potatoes, but Rich ate them all. ”
Kent scowls, probably wondering why we’re talking about mashed potatoes, and then rakes his hands through his hair. “I was up all night coordinating everything. We make our move today, or we miss our chance for a month.” Rich nods automatically, but Kent looks to me for approval. “I can’t wait another month.”
Neither can I.
The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can set fire to this life that I’ve inherited and take the one that I want—the one with Claire and not constantly looking over our shoulder. I’m going to take her so far off the grid that even Wes’ friend’s recovery software won’t be able to find us. I never fashioned myself a lumberjack, but Rich standing there in his flannel could probably teach me a few pointers. “I understand.”
“Declan’s software only hits on her face every thirty days during the spring and summer months… in Jarbidge, Nevada.”
“Nevada?”
I guess the surprise must be evident in my voice, because Kent nods. “About nine hours from Vegas, which is a hub for all sorts of lowlife thugs. It makes sense.”
I nod my agreement. Las Vegas has an exorbitant cash flow. Money turns over so fast there that it would be easy to wash.
“But what’s in Jarbidge?”
“No clue.” He says. “It doesn’t look like much, honestly. It’s an old mining town. She’s a fucking ghost until once a month when she goes into some sort of shop. Declan said it’s some sort of webcam that’s catching the photos.”
I can tell that the anxiety of that is enough to make him want to put his fist through a wall. How do you go for an entire month between sightings?
“Okay.” I nod. “So, what do we need?”
“It doesn’t look like we need anything. I’d run surveillance if we had more time, but—”
“I know.” He doesn’t need to remind me again. I know it’s been years since he saw her last, since she disappeared off the face of the earth. We’re doing this the best that we can as fast as we can.
“The three of us, Michael and Rook? A five man team seems like a bit of an overshot, honestly, but—”
“It’s better to be overprepared.” I agree. “Let me track down the others.” I take two steps toward the door and come to a dead stop when I see Claire standing there, watching us. I wonder how much she heard.
“Where are you going?”
I don’t know if it’s fear in her eyes or just a general distrust, and when I say nothing, she turns to the others.
They have no allegiance to her. Kent’s honestly been more of a dick to her, pretending she doesn’t exist, then I’ve seen him be to anyone. Sensing that she isn’t going to get an answer, she walks past us and sets about making another pot of coffee. Rich even fills the decanter with water for her.
As he passes it to her, Rich takes it upon himself to tell her the truth. “We’ve got a mission. Gotta get Kent’s wife back for him.”
“Your wife?” Claire turns to Kent, whose stare softens when she faces him. He nods, and then decides to tell her everything.
“She was kidnapped when I was in the service. Her entire life was just wiped away, like she never existed, but now we’ve found her.”
“Oh my God.” Claire breathes, clearly startled by that information. She nods curtly, and then her eyes meet mine. “I’ll be ready in five. I just have to go change.” She glances down at the pajamas she’s still wearing, a shorts set that is a remarkable improvement over the sweats. I didn’t mind those, really, but I hated how she hid her legs from me… legs I have thoroughly enjoyed her wrapping around me. Now I wish she’d put on the damn sweats before coming down, especially because Rich lets his eyes linger on her for just a touch longer than I like.
“I agree that you need to change,” I say gently, “but you’re not going with us. ”
Claire frowns, her lips jutting out into a pout that simultaneously makes me want to shake her and kiss the frown away. The last week has been the longest of my life, waiting for signs that she’s still in there, and suddenly, she’s coming back to me, little by little.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dangerous.” Rich answers for me. “She was kidnapped… whoever took her might decide they like you, too. You’re a distraction.”
“That’s rude.” Claire laughs, not seeming too put out despite herself. The coffee pot begins to churn, the only sound in the room as we all watch her. When she turns to Kent, her face is serious. “You’re a military man, right?” Kent nods curtly, looking none too impressed with however she managed to discover that. “So, you’re not exactly a paragon for safe and soothing.”
“I’m her husband .” Kent snips, his shoulders squaring like he’s getting ready to fight the woman in front of him despite the fact she’s over a foot shorter than him and far too thin. I noticed that she seemed smaller when I first saw her in the hospital room, but seeing her stand before Kent is a reminder of how much she’s slimmed, losing unnecessary weight that softened her figure. I guess Moose was right, when he said that Claire wasn’t good. I should have believed him. I wasn’t good either.
“You were. Legally, you are . But you don’t know what she’s been through. She could be confused, scared. Depending on what she’s been through, just the sight of any man could trigger her, and yet you’re going to go after her with four other men?”
I step quickly in front of Claire, just in case Kent acts on the look he’s fixing her with, which tells me he’s considering punching her in the throat. I can’t imagine he’s the type to ever lay a hand on a woman, but I’m not taking chances.
“You think I haven’t thought about that?” Kent scoffs. “All I’ve thought about was her and what she’s going through! Whether she’s still holding on for me, or if she thinks I abandoned her, whether she’ll ever let me hold her again…” His voice is dangerously close to breaking, and before he turns away to compose himself, I see the tears in his eyes.
“She will.” Claire assures him, stepping around me to move to his side. “But maybe not today. Maybe not this month. She’ll come back to you if you wait for her, but don’t do her the disservice of expecting her to fall right back into the way you were. Because she won’t be the same person she was before, either.”
There’s a pause as we all consider her words. They resonate, in a way I’m not even sure Claire realizes holds true for us. She isn’t the same girl she was that first night I met her, when I first began to fall for her even though I was too stupid to realize it. She’s not even the same girl she was before I broke her heart by refusing to give her the life she wanted from me. I’ve fallen in love with her a few times, each time not realizing it was with a different iteration of her. Even when I wanted to hurt her for her reckless compassion, I was falling harder for her.
But I don’t just love the versions of her that she’s been. Even in this moment, stubbornly trying to argue us into submission, I love her light. She can’t even see it, but I can’t not see it. It’s still there, despite how many people have tried to take it from her.
Loving her, I realize, isn’t enough. I have to tend to her light… to keep it burning instead of just admiring it. Even when doing so may not always be to my taste.
Kent turns back to meet my eyes, seeking my permission to confirm what he’s already realized. “She’s right.”
“She usually is.” I agree, waiting for her to turn to me. When she does, there’s a little smirk on her face. “Go get ready while I gather the others.”
The minute she’s gone, Rich lets out the laugh he’s at least been trying to hold back. “God damn, Rem. You’ve got it bad.”
He isn’t wrong. This love I have for her? It’s the strongest thing I’ve ever felt… and the most terrifying.
I help myself to the coffee Claire made, enticed to try again by the heavenly aroma. When it touches my tongue, I decide that even if it weren’t for the rest of it, I’d have to keep her for her coffee-making skills alone.
“Don’t worry, Rich,” I assure him with a clap on the shoulder before I head out the door, the mug clutched in one hand. “Maybe one day you’ll find someone who you love. And, more unlikely,” I smirk, “someone who will love you back.”