Chapter 18
“ S am?” Maggie said, and she didn’t have to force the shaky wobble into her words. Her knees gave out and she slumped hard against the door.
“Hello, Maggie,” Sam said, much calmer than she felt. Then, as if suddenly remembering where they were, darted furious glances up and down the hall before shoving her into the room behind her. He flicked on the lights and grasped her biceps. “What are you doing here?”
“How?” she asked. “How are you here?”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, giving her a little shake.
“The guy, I came with the guy.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know, some friend of a friend from work. He needed a date, and I thought it would be fun to go to a fancy party. Apparently not.” She stared up into his face. “How are you here? You’re dead.”
“Apparently not,” he said, his lips twisting into a wry smile. “Maggie, don’t cry, please don’t cry. I can’t stand it.”
She hadn’t realized she was crying until he said so. All she knew was the pain of seeing him again hurt worse than she could have imagined. She thought she was fully over him, but seeing him again, up close and in person…It was an agonizing mixture of love, longing, grief, and anguish. He brushed his fingers on her face and kissed her cheeks.
“I’m not sure I want you to touch me,” she said, but she clung to him nonetheless. The smell of him, so familiar, knifed through her senses, making her feel almost delirious with confusion. She had cut him out of her memory, told her brain over and over he was gone and needed to be forgotten. And yet he was here .
“How can this be?” he asked.
“How can you be the one who is confused?” she countered.
“I followed your steps to Washington and the college job, but then you disappeared.”
“I needed a change. I thought it would be fun to live in the city,” she said.
“You hate the city.”
“A lot has changed in six years,” she told him, remembering her fury all over again. She would have pulled away, but he had her sandwiched between himself and the wall. “Why, Sam, why did you do it? You could have told me you didn’t want to get married.”
He gave a humorless little chuckle. “You think this is about our wedding?”
“Isn’t it?” she asked.
“Maggie, if I’d had my way, you would be with our second child as we speak.”
“I never agreed to that many kids,” she said.
“I would have won that argument, and you know it,” he said. “Look at you. Look at you. You look even more beautiful than when we met, and until this moment I never knew that was possible. You know I still remember the first time I saw you, strolling through campus, reading a book, and smiling. I had never seen anyone do all three things at once. And do you remember what I said to you?”
“You said you were about to change my life forever, and I suppose that turned out to be true.”
He continued, undaunted. “Do you remember your response? ”
“I laughed and said stranger danger seemed suddenly all too real.”
He laughed and she smiled. He had the best laugh. “Then when I finally, finally convinced you to go out with me, you wore your hair down on our first date, and I begged you to wear it down from then on.”
“I haven’t been able to wear it down since you died. Or since I thought you died. Sam, what happened? Why? It’s been six years and twenty minutes, and I still don’t have an answer.”
“I can’t give you an answer,” he said.
“You owe me an explanation,” she said.
“Do you not understand that I’m trying to protect you? That everything I’ve done has been to protect you?”
“No, I don’t because you won’t tell me. You used to tell me everything. We had no secrets, or so I thought.”
“We had one very big secret,” he said. He put his hands over his face and drew a deep breath.
She peeled his hands away and looked in his eyes. “Please, I need to know. Please, Sam. I need an explanation. You can’t understand what it’s like, thinking you were dead. Do you care what that did to me? Do you have any idea how I grieved for you? I threw myself on your coffin and begged them to put me in the ground with you. My dad and my little brother had to peel me off and carry me away, kicking and screaming and clawing to get back to you.”
He covered his ears. “Stop it, stop.”
“I was catatonic for three weeks. They had to put me in the hospital and give me fluids through an IV because I couldn’t eat or sleep or even function. I’m not sure I was alive during that time after your funeral because it’s all a black blur.”
He put his hands back over his face. “Maggie, don’t.”
She peeled them away again and held his wrists. “Do you think I was the only one who grieved for you? Do you think my mother and father and brothers and sister didn’t also weep for you? Do you understand what your disappearance did to Johnny? He cried every single night for a solid year, and I seemed to be the only one who could hear him, so it was up to me to comfort him, and I couldn’t stop crying, either.
“I haven’t been able to get close to a man, for fear he’ll disappear like you did. You have made me untouchable. I died when you went away, and now you have the audacity to stand here and say you can’t tell me what it was about? How dare you?” Her chest was heaving. She had completely forgotten all the people listening to their conversation, forgotten Ridge, forgotten her assignment, forgotten everything but her pain and the aching need for answers.
The silence hung heavily between them as Sam refused to speak. Eventually the energy drained from her. She sagged against the wall and let go his wrists. He touched his fingers gently to her chin and tipped her face toward his. “I can’t tell you what happened, but I can tell you that I loved you then, I love you now, and I begin to believe I will always love you. Why would I hurt you without reason?”
“I don’t know. You tell me,” she said, her tone more bitter than she intended.
In answer, he pressed his lips to hers, gently, tenderly. Maggie didn’t mean to respond, but it had been so long, and she was under such a confusing pall of emotion. She slid her arms around him and deepened the kiss, and it took on a life of its own as six years of emptiness and longing came pouring out of her.
“You are not to be in this part of the hallway,” a man outside the door said. Sam stepped away from Maggie as if he had been electrocuted.
“It’s them,” he whispered, his dark face going pale.
“Who?” she whispered, though she already knew .
He shook his head and put his finger to his lips.
“Have you seen my date?” Ridge twanged. “Little blond gal, gray dress?”
The uncles were coming, and Ridge had intercepted them. And she would be caught with Sam. How could they all possibly get away unscathed?
“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispered.
“For what?” Maggie started to say when the door was ripped open and the three men from the hallway tumbled inside. She barely had time to register what was going on before Sam’s open palm cracked across her cheek, striking her so hard she reeled into the wall behind her. He hurled an epithet at her in Arabic, something so horrible and ugly Maggie would never utter it, not in a million years. Then he turned his back to her and spoke to Ridge.
“There’s your trash, I’m done with her.” Head up, he walked out of the room, followed by his uncles, who didn’t utter a word.
Maggie thought she might black out, the pain and shock were so intense. She had taken a few hits during her training at Quantico, but never like that, not a purposeful assault to her face. She could already feel her cheek swelling and a goose egg beginning to form on the back of her head. Were her molars loose? They felt so, at least a little.
“We’re done,” Ridge said, rushing forward to offer her his arm for support. She thought at first he was talking to her, and then she remembered their eager crowd of listeners.
“We didn’t get the…” she began, but he cut her off.
“I said we’re done,” he snapped, his tone brooking no rebuttal. She nodded, dazed, and allowed him to lead her back through the mazelike house and outside to the car. Miraculously, no one seemed to notice them. Possibly because some type of belly dance performance was taking place in the main party hall and everyone was absorbed.
He tucked her in the car and knelt beside her. “Are you going to pass out?”
She shook her head.
“Are you going to throw up?”
“Possibly,” she said. He opened the glove compartment to search for something but came up empty.
“At least it’s not my car,” he said. He closed her door and came around to his side. “I’m taking her home.”
“Are you talking to the car?” she asked, still very much dazed.
He tapped his ear. “She’s had enough. I’ll do the report and de-brief myself. I’m taking her home.” He was using the tone again, the one that said you’d be a fool to argue. She dearly hoped he wasn’t talking to the Colonel, but realized he probably was. He plucked the earpiece out and tossed it into the console.
“We can go to the office. I can do the debrief,” she said weakly.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked.
“Three?” she guessed.
“Both hands are on the wheel. Home for you,” he said.
“Are you going to get fired?” she whispered, covering her bodice to block the microphone in her bra.
He shook his head and winked at her, and she realized they could hear her, regardless of how she tried to stop it. For all she knew, the car could be wired and probably was. She closed her eyes and tried to stave off the encroaching nausea by breathing purposefully through her nose.
A minute later they stopped at the sound trailer, the one being used as a staging area by their team, the one where Maggie had gotten ready only a few hours ago. Marla met her at the car, removed the necklace from Maggie’s neck, stuck a pen in her hand, and had her sign a release paper.
“You did good, Maggie,” Marla surprised her by saying. Maggie was about to argue with her, to protest and point out how badly she had failed, when Marla continued. “No blood on it,” she said, inspecting the necklace with something like reverence before snapping the lid shut and closing the car door.
Maggie tipped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. Home. The safety and shelter of her house and dog were all she wanted right now. It came as a surprise when they stopped sooner than she would have imagined, but when she opened her eyes, she saw they were in the drive-thru lane of a fast food restaurant.
“You haven’t eaten all day,” he explained. “And neither have I. You’ll feel better with something in your stomach.”
She didn’t argue, but she doubted it. When the aroma of food filled the car, however, she realized she was famished and polished off her meal and soda immediately, all while handing him his food so he could eat, too.
“Better?” Ridge asked after she had eaten.
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
“What are bosses for?” he asked. His tone was casual, but his expression was anything but. His left hand white-knuckled the steering wheel while his right reached for her hand and twined their fingers together. “You okay?” he mouthed when they came to a stoplight.
She shrugged, not knowing how to answer. Which hurt more—her face, her heart, or the fact that she had failed her mission?
At last they reached her house. Ridge used his key to let them in and then checked Samson’s food and water while Maggie remained standing in the entryway like a stranger. He clasped her hand and led her to her bedroom, Samson trotting happily behind them. Once there, he turned her around and tried to unzip her but, as she had been sewn into the dress, there was no zipper. He pulled a knife out of his pocket and cut the seam. The dress fell to the floor like the empty shell it was. Maggie stood in her underwear and bra. She should be embarrassed about that, but she was too numb. Ridge searched in her top drawer until he found a pair of pajamas. She dutifully and wordlessly lifted her arms while he slipped the shirt over her head and then held the legs for her while she stepped into them like a child.
When she was dressed, he led her to the bed, tucked her in and perched beside her. She reached into his inside pocket, pulled out the little notepad, and wrote him a note.
I’m sorry.
He scowled, perplexed. “Why?” he mouthed.
I failed , she wrote.
He shook his head. She nodded. He pulled her upright so he could whisper directly in her ear. “You did perfectly. You made contact, you got information.”
“Not the information,” she said.
He chuckled. “It would be great if intelligence worked that way, if you had gone in and found out exactly what they were planning and brought back evidence. But that rarely to never happens. It comes in bits and pieces. You got a foot in the door, you gave us a start. The plan went as it was supposed to, and I can’t think of a way it could have gone better. We know mounds more now than we did before tonight. ”
“Like what?” she asked, lying back again. It was safe to talk about work out loud.
“Like the fact that the uncles own the house. That gives us a paper trail. Like the fact that there are hidden rooms that didn’t show up on our blueprints. Like the fact that…Sam,” he had to force the name out, “is terrified of his uncles.”
“What does that tell us?” she asked.
“That he might not be working with them willingly.”
“It never made sense that he was,” she said.
“We’ll see,” Ridge said, sounding surly once more. He caressed her head, smoothing the fallen hairs away. He took the notebook and wrote.
You’re beautiful.
I’m purple , she wrote, and pointed to her cheek.
“It’s a good color for you,” he said. “I have to go do the de-brief and write my report.” He took the notebook and wrote,
I’ll be back after.
She nodded.
He pulled out his notebook and scribbled again, his mouth sliding into a wicked grin as he wrote.
Do you want to peel off the mic, or do you want me to do it?
She reached into her shirt, peeled off the mic, and placed it in his palm.
“I don’t have to tell you how disappointed I am you chose to do that yourself.” He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “You were brilliant, as good or better than any fulltime field agent. You kept your cool and stayed on task.”
She had done neither of those things, but she didn’t argue. Maybe it had sounded like she was doing her job when she was pleading with Sam for answers. She hoped so.
“Thanks for having my back, boss,” she said.
“Always,” he mouthed.
“Hey, can I ask you one more thing before you go?” she said.
He stood and paused by her bed. “What’s that?”
“Do you have chaps and spurs, and what are the chances that I could get you to yodel?”
He took the notebook and scribbled furiously.
When you’re all healed up, you will pay dearly for that remark.
She took the notebook and replied, Big talk, no action .
He kissed his finger and touched it to her lips, laughing when she licked him. “Weirdo,” he said, wiping his finger on her pajama shirt. He paused to scratch Samson behind the ears. The dog had grown on him to the point where he didn’t so much mind the slobber and shedding. Maybe when this was over he would broach the subject of being roommates again.
He reached the door and turned once more to look at Maggie. She was curled into the fetal position, eyes closed. He could see the purple rise of her cheek from across the room and had to force himself to turn and walk away.