Chapter 30
Cal closed his eyes, savoring the feel of Io in his arms. Safe. Unharmed. Back to normal.
He’d realized something today while she’d been dealing with her panic attack. He preferred kickass Io—even if it left him worrying about her. Because that was who she was. Fierce and brilliant and adventurous.
He’d told himself he couldn’t see past the risk. That had been the story he clung to, the excuse he’d wrapped around himself like armor. He knew better now.
But she’d said something else. He couldn’t remember if it was recently or while they were arguing back in Germany. It didn’t matter. Her message was that she could get in a car accident driving to the safe job he wanted her to have.
She was right.
There was no way to erase potential danger. There was no way to ensure Io outlived him. Yes, his sister had died because she’d done something reckless, but she’d been fourteen years old. Io wasn’t Elena.
When they’d gone rock climbing while he’d been in California, she’d triple checked all her equipment.
Same for when they’d skied in the Alps. She hadn’t just strapped on the skis, grabbed the poles, and hopped on the lift.
Instead, she’d verified every piece of her gear was secure and in working order.
Cal had considered her impulsive because why?
Because she agreed to elope with him?
All that proved was she’d loved him enough to make a commitment.
Eloping wasn’t recklessness. It was faith. Trust. Love.
Pressing his lips to Io’s temple, he stroked her back lightly, trying to tell her without words how precious she was to him. How grateful he was that she was safe and holding him. How much he still loved her.
Ugly dagger tattoo excepted, Cal wasn’t impulsive either. He’d suggested they elope because he couldn’t imagine his life without Io in it. Because he loved her enough to make the commitment, to be with only her forever.
Going out to shoot baskets in the front driveway hadn’t been reckless.
It hadn’t shown he was irresponsible. He’d done it a hundred times.
He couldn’t know that day would be the day his kid sister, who normally listened to what she was told, would leave the house.
What had Io said? Something about Elena finding a way to sneak out even if he’d been sitting in the kitchen?
He carried that day like an unhealed wound, one he wouldn’t allow to turn into a scar. Elena wouldn’t have wanted that. Never. She’d been full of life. She laughed easily and forgave others for their mistakes. She wouldn’t want him to punish himself for her death.
If Elena could talk to him, she would tell him he was a moron for pushing away the woman who made him happy.
His sister’s death didn’t mean he had to deny himself a future with Io. It meant that life was fragile and precious and he should spend every fucking minute he had with his Wild Thing. Talking with her, laughing with her, loving her, building a marriage with her.
Hugging Io tighter, Cal allowed himself to say goodbye to Elena. To finally let her rest in peace. The way he should have years ago. He wasn’t just saying goodbye to his sister—he was finally saying yes to the life, the love, and the future waiting in his arms.
Io sighed and levered herself away. “I need to get your cuts bandaged.”
Cal smiled. Damn, he loved her fussing over him. “Nah, none of them are deep enough for you to fuck around with those tiny bandages.”
She frowned. “I don’t know.”
“They’re not bleeding, and if you’re concerned about infection, you can monitor them easier if they’re uncovered.”
“You’re worried about looking like a dork.”
His smile widened to a grin. “You already know I’m a dork. Who else are you going to meet who knows as much about old cartoons as I do?”
“Probably no one.” She returned the smile and moved to the bed to begin putting away the overwhelming amount of supplies she’d bought when his arm was injured. “I’m fine with the cartoon obsession. It’s your choice in hotels we need to discuss.”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I know it looks bad, but it’s clean.”
She shook her head with mock sadness and continued gathering up the gauze.
“Last night, it was the psychedelic circus. Today, we have a sink in the room two feet away from the headboard, a bathroom without a ceiling, and a bed that even you checked twice to make sure there wasn’t anything living in it. ”
“Don’t forget the loose wire climbing up the wall, dangerously close to the shower,” Cal added. The place was a disaster and he didn’t mind being teased about it. And that’s what Io was doing, teasing him.
“You’re lucky my parents liked adventures off the beaten path and that meant lots of hotel rooms like this—or worse. If you married someone without my background, you’d be getting an earful.”
“Don’t worry, Wild Thing. I know just how lucky I am.” Cal was dead serious when he said that. Serious enough to make Io freeze and glance over at him.
He wasn’t sure what she saw on his face, but Io turned her complete focus on reloading the supplies in his pack. “Tomorrow, I’ll choose the hotel,” she said as if the small break in the banter never happened. “It won’t be Palacio Monasterio, so you can relax.”
“I wasn’t concerned. I know you understand our situation.”
She zipped the bag. “It’s probably one of the two hotels in Trujillo the Russians have under constant surveillance.”
“Agreed,” he said, hiding his amusement. Io was rambling now, saying words that didn’t need saying. For a woman comfortable with silence, it was telling. Cal crossed to her, took his pack, and set it down next to the wall, out of the way.
He walked toward her, and stopped a couple of feet away. Holding out his arms in invitation, Cal waited.
And breathed a sigh of relief when she buried himself in his embrace.
I love you, Io.
Cal didn’t say the words aloud, though.
Instead, he pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. He wasn’t letting her go again. Not if he could help it.
Io wasn’t sure this was smart, but she couldn’t deny herself the warmth of Cal’s arms around her. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she could have lost him forever today.
The thought sliced through her like a blade, making her breath catch. If things had gone differently, she might never have felt this again. She tried to imagine never seeing his smile, never hearing Cal laugh, not arguing with him about strange hotels.
Of no more chances to fight with him. To fight for him.
The ache in her chest was too sharp to ignore. Her arms tightened around him, as if hanging onto him would prevent losing him.
She needed to see his face, had to verify that those little cuts were all the damage he’d sustained while protecting her.
While he used his body to shield her. Io lifted her head and met his eyes.
He was watching her and something was different in his expression, but she didn’t know why she believed that.
Patience, steadiness, affection—but those weren’t new. Just maybe something she hadn’t seen this strongly since Germany.
“Cal…” Her voice came out husky and she let it trail off, uncertain what to say.
Instead, she went to her toes and pressed her mouth to his, claiming him with a fierceness born of fear.
She could have lost him today. She could have lost him forever.
That idea continued to echo in her thoughts.
Io needed the taste of him, needed the reminder that he was alive, that they were both alive, and that he was here.
That he was hers.
His arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. This kiss wasn’t fueled by adrenaline. It came from love. From need.
Her fingers slid into hair. It was shaggier now and she threaded her fingers through the strands until her palm cupped the back of his head. Io opened her mouth, inviting him to deepen the kiss. Cal didn’t hesitate.
The taste of him, the warmth of his body, the steady strength of his embrace—she hadn’t forgotten and feeling him wrapped around her now? It was like coming home.
Home. It wasn’t a place. It was this man.
Her husband.
She met his tongue with her own. Cal groaned softly, the sound vibrating through her, and the ache shifted into something hotter. Something sharper. Io pressed closer to him, feeling the hard muscles of his chest against her breasts.
Cal’s hands stayed at her waist. He was letting her set the pace. Letting her decide if this was just a kiss or if it was more.
Honorable. She’d never met a man as honorable as Callum Baggnell. It was among the reasons she’d fallen head over heels in love with him more quickly than she believed possible. And it was one of the reasons why she would always love him.
His patience, his consideration, his respect undid her.
Io broke the kiss and whispered, “I need you, Cal.”
“I need you too, Thing. I’ve missed you like hell on fire.”
Io’s breath came out on a serrated sigh because she knew he wasn’t talking about missing the sex. He actually meant her. For real. Only her sister had ever cared enough to miss her when she wasn’t there.
Until Cal.
It hit her hard. To know that he missed her the way she’d missed him mattered.
It mattered a lot. Her throat tightened, the ache in her chest spilled into something powerful, something she didn’t want to stop.
Io moved her hands to frame his face between them.
She loved him. So much. “I want you. Stop holding back.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“If you change your mind—”
“I’ll tell you. You know I’m not shy about speaking up.”
He still hesitated. “I’ve been faithful to you. There’s been no one else. I’m not going to last long.”
Her lips curved. “There’s been no one else for me either. We can do hard and fast the first time, and go slower the second.”
“You—” Cal stopped to kiss her. “Are—” Another kiss. “Incredible.”
She was starving for him and he was teasing her. Io nipped his lower lip. “Stop playing around. Show me how much you want me.”
“Why don’t you show me how much you want me?”
It was a dare.
Io pushed Cal’s camo fatigue shirt off, hardly noticing when it hit the floor.
She was too focused on the drab-green T-shirt, the way it strained across the muscles of his chest and arms, his tattoos.
The one on his right shoulder peeked out below the sleeve of the tee, but the ones on both forearms were fully visible.
So was the shoulder harness with the pistol.
“Want to lose the weapon, Sergeant?” Io stepped back, giving Cal room to move.
“You going to disarm me?”
Io smirked. “I know better than that. If you want to continue, you’ll need to disarm yourself.”
His lips curved as his brows went up. “Noted.”
He unfastened the harness and hung it on the headboard of the bed. Her smirk deepened as Cal divested himself of another pistol—this one smaller—a variety of knives, clips of ammo, and something that looked like a shiv.
“You’re carrying heavier than usual.”
“This assignment is more important than the usual.”
That wiped out her amusement. His assignment was to protect her. She struggled to find the tone again. “Is that everything?”
He nodded. “You can frisk me if you want to make sure I’m telling the truth.”
“Don’t worry, Cal. I’ll have my hands all over you, I promise.”
She went toward him and he met her halfway.
Io slid her palms over his chest, down to the waistband of his fatigue pants, and pulled the T-shirt free.
As she raised the hem higher, he lifted his arms, helping her get it off.
No dog tags. It surprised her for a moment, and then she remembered he was undercover.
He couldn’t wear them in his role of a mercenary.
Io stepped into him, her arms going around his neck to pull his lips back to hers. She was done with restraint. Done with the teasing. Apparently Cal was too. He tugged her against him, holding her tightly, returning her kiss with the same desperation she felt.
Five months.
Almost five months without the man she loved with her whole heart.
“Need you, Thing,” he muttered, lips near her ear. He nipped her lobe, the little love bite sending a thrill of arousal through her.
She lost herself in Cal, in the way his fingers caressed her, in the heat of his kiss. Her brain turned off and there was only her husband and the fire between them. Io sighed softly as he finally—finally—raised her shirt and tossed it aside.
It wasn’t until everything came to a screeching halt that Io remembered.
Her eyes opened. Cal was staring at the chain she wore around her neck.
When he realized she was watching, his gaze met hers and he gently lifted the necklace from her skin. “You’re wearing your wedding rings.”
The world narrowed to his hand, her rings, and the look in his eyes.
Did he know why she wore them?
Did Cal realize she didn’t want to let go of their marriage?