Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
She shouldn’t have kissed him. That was stupid of her.
No! Kissing wasn’t anywhere in the plan. No more kissing.
Although, deep in her heart, she longed for him again. Just once more, she promised herself.
With his lips still swollen, his jaw more purple than black and blue, she didn’t want to hurt him. But the instant their lips met, heat passed between them, sending a calm through her that only he could bring. She gave in and let him take what he needed while she absorbed whatever he would give her.
She would take these few precious moments for herself and cherish them forever. They might be her last with Jacin, the only man she’d ever wanted to keep…but couldn’t.
With his only free hand, he pulled her to him. She hadn’t taken the time to free his other wrist. They had both wanted that kiss. Needed the connection as much as their next breath. When he pressed into her mouth, she savored the taste of him. Pure Jacin. She moved her head for a better angle and bumped into his cheek.
Wincing, he gasped.
She immediately jerked back. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Her words rang true on so many levels, he had no idea.
Melina took a deep breath, dreading what she had to do next. The CIA had been breathing down her neck to return to Langley for her debrief, but she’d put them off, claiming she could control Jacin better when he finally awoke than an unknown agent. Now that he was fully cognizant, she no longer had an excuse.
Shifting into handler mode, she began her own series of questions. “Do you know who I am?”
Managing only to lift the right side of his lips a quarter of an inch in a smile, he said, “You’re my wife.”
She raised one eyebrow and asked. “Are you sure?”
He sighed. “No. We’re not married, but I wish we were.”
Melina’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Damn him. He could be so charming and wonderful, yet he was more off-limits now than he’d been in Colombia. Did he mean what he’d said? Jacin had always known the right things to say to her as a woman. Of course he was just kidding. He’d always teased her.
She returned to her interrogation. “What country were you in when you got hurt?” Sometimes memory was quirky. That should have been a simple question for him.
Jacin ignored the inquiry and leaned away from her to untie his other hand. When he rolled back, he stared at her for a long time through swollen eyes. She repeated the question.
“So, you and I are going to play fifty questions, too?” That one corner of his lips cocked up a little. “I’d rather play doctor with you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at him.
“Okay. Okay.” With swollen and bandaged hands, he managed to retrieve the glass of ice shards. After letting a few melt in his mouth, he finally answered. “We both know I was under cover in a Colombian cartel headed by Turi Solis. I was followed when I went to visit you. My cover was blown, and two men I’d worked with for over a year spent days beating the shit out of me. Now I’m here. You don’t have to worry. My training won’t allow me, even under extreme torture, to tell anyone anything I don’t want them to know.”
Melina let out a slow breath. His brain was functional enough to not give away any state secrets, and he did not seem drug impaired. “How did you get here?”
He took a long draw on the water and tried to set it back on the tray. She grabbed the glass from him and deftly set it within his reach before he dropped freezing water onto his lap. She repeated the question.
“I have no fucking clue, if you want to know the truth.” His admission seemed to hurt him physically.
Her phone buzzed. She took it out of her pocket, and saw the text was from Bill Smedley, Jacin’s new protector. He was on his way up the elevator and would be there within minutes. She needed to finish this, now.
Keeping the facts true, but not necessarily as perceived, Melina proceeded with her rehearsed speech. “Well, it seems like you are doing considerably better. I guess I can leave here knowing you are in good medical hands. Rafe is in D.C., and I need to get there right away.” Every statement she’d said was accurate, but her former agent, Rafe Silva, had nothing to do with her return to Washington. Although it was essential for Jacin to incorrectly connect the two.
According to standard operating procedure, upon landing she should have left Jacin in the hospital with another agent and immediately reported to CIA headquarters for weeks of debriefing. But she couldn’t leave him, not after almost losing him so many times.
When they had arrived at the Texas hospital, she’d made up her mind. She was staying at his side until… She never could have lived with herself had he died alone. Too many times on the hospital plane from Bogotá, the medical transport staff had nearly lost him.
Now, though, she had to go. She knew the mention of Rafe would set Jacin off.
“You’re still seeing him?” Jacin seethed.
Again, staying to the truth, she explained, “He’s been debriefing while I’ve been here with you. And, yes, I plan to see him while I’m in D.C.” She had plans to see both Rafe and his new fiancée, Harper Tambini. If the rumor mill was right, he’d asked the ATF explosives expert—who he’d unwillingly kidnapped then helped escape from Colombia—to marry him. But if Jacin didn’t remember how he’d been extracted from his cartel torture chamber, he’d missed a lot. At the moment, though, that was an advantage she would exploit.
“What about us?” The pain in his heart reflected in his hazel eyes that looked nearly brown in the low light of the hospital room.
Melina swallowed the hard lump of truth and lied, “Jacin, you’ve known from the beginning a lifetime together could never work for us.” But damn it, she wanted that more than anything in the world. Gathering inner strength she didn’t know she had, she continued to cut the emotional ties that bound them together. “I’m sure we’ll both be reassigned within the next few weeks. For security reasons, I can’t tell you where I’m going, but I’ve heard rumors that you may be headed into Mexico next.” Hopefully that lie came off better than she’d expected. She’d practiced her speech several times in front of the bathroom mirror at her brother’s apartment.
She couldn’t stop her body as it approached the bed once again. She slid her hand into his, needing to touch him, and she told him the truth one last time. “Believe it or not, I have truly enjoyed working with you.” She felt the burn behind her eyes as she confessed, “I will never forget you, Jacin.” Or any minute we spent together. She had placed all those cherished memories in a special box to be savored later, when she needed him but couldn’t have him.
“You’re really going to him ?” Jacin said through clenched teeth.
Melina couldn’t speak, only nodded.
“Get the fuck out of here.” He turned his mangled face away from her.
With perfect timing, there was a knock just before the door opened.
Her heart breaking, she pasted on a smile as she passed Bill. “He’s all yours.”
She didn’t remember walking down the hall she’d traveled daily to visit Jacin over the past ten days. To avoid meeting other people, she’d taken the stairs. From there, everything was a blur through tear-filled eyes. As she sat in her brother’s car, she let her pain flow in salty rivulets down her cheeks.
As always, she’d done what was necessary, not what she had wanted. Times like this, she hated the life she’d chosen for herself and questioned why she continued to work for the CIA. She knew what lay ahead. The analysts would interrogate her for a week, maybe two, then the psychologists would take over to determine if she was fit for continued duty. Briefing on her next assignment could take weeks or even months. Thankfully, she had a few days before the barrage of questioning began.
Since it was Friday, Langley had given her until Monday morning to make her way to Washington D.C.
Wiping her eyes, she chose to look at the bright side; she might get to see her brother, Austin. His Special Forces team was on its way back home from the Middle East. Although it may only be a few minutes together, it would be more than she’d had with him in years. She missed him more than she admitted to herself until she walked into his apartment nearly two weeks ago.
The corners of her mouth quirked up. The universe worked in strange ways. Fort Cavazos was not on the flight plan as the U.S. medical transport plane left Bogotá. Turbulence over the Caribbean had bounced Jacin just enough for a broken rib to pierce his lung. Melina had never been so scared in her life as she watched the medical staff attempt to re-inflate his collapsed lung. He’d fought them, grabbing at the oxygen mask, until they had to tie down his raw wrists. When his lung refused to hold air, the physician on board requested an emergency landing in Texas since Jacin would never have made it all the way to Walter Reed Hospital.
As soon as she’d heard they were headed to Fort Cavazos, Melina texted the brother who had raised her most of her life. Even though their mother had lived in the same house with them, she was more often gone than home. Austin had always been her protector, especially as Melina matured into a woman’s body. At fourteen, her mother had simply disappeared, leaving Melina and her sixteen-year-old half-brother alone. By then, lying had become so much easier than telling the truth.
Fate seemed to have dropped her exactly where she needed to be, but she was extremely disappointed when Austin returned her text informing her that he was out of the country. At least he’d allowed her to stay in his apartment and use his SUV. She’d thank him by filling his empty refrigerator and restocking his pantry. It gave her something to do while waiting for him to arrive home since she would never return to the hospital.
After the fight with Jacin, her stomach roiled. Day after day she’d sat at his side, holding his hand, listening to the beep and shush of his lifelines. Once, and only once, she’d eaten food from the hospital cafeteria. After that, she’d eaten a big breakfast and brought PowerBars to hold her over. Every night, after visiting hours had concluded, she’d stopped into the only grocery store she passed on her way back to Austin’s apartment. She’d lived in Colombia for so many years, her first trip through a U.S. grocery store was like a culinary fantasyland.
Melina loved to cook, thanks to Giuseppe. A few days after their mother had disappeared, so hungry she was ready to start eating out of garbage cans, Melina and Austin landed jobs at an Italian restaurant. They had both lied about their age, not that they could have produced birth certificates had the grandfatherly owner asked for one. He seemed to understand their situation when they insisted on working the same shifts and explained they had to go to school. He’d allowed them to eat as soon as they reported for work, and if there were leftovers, the septuagenarian had insisted they take the food home, often filling take-out bags to overflowing.
As though he’d known Melina was underage, even though she was tall and looked much older than her years, Giuseppe had put her to work in the kitchen, hiding her from the public. She loved the fast pace of a busy night, but when things were slow, she and her mentor would experiment with spices. Over the next dozen years, she found cooking relaxed her.
Well, nothing relaxed a woman quite like good sex. That thought brought her full circle to Jacin. Unwilling to go there, she focused on food choices.
As Melina filled her shopping cart with name brand items, she was extremely thankful for the money she’d stashed away all those years she’d worked outside the United States. Perusing the meat counter, she was once again thrilled that professionals had created easy-to-make main courses and lined them in neat rows garnished with crisp greens. When her stomach growled, she wasn’t sure if she could handle food yet, thanks to the angry scene at the hospital.
That morning, she hadn’t been able to eat a thing, knowing she’d have to end her relationship with Jacin. She’d managed to keep down her favorite Colombian blend of coffee, though the smell of toasting bagel and scrambled eggs had flipped her stomach. She’d tossed them in the trash and left to face her future…alone.
Admitting she should eat, Melina studied the offerings. Did she want chicken Cordon Bleu? It was one of her favorites. Was she hungry enough for a steak? She’d seen a gas grill on Austin’s balcony but wasn’t sure if the propane tank was full. Although the stuffed pork chops looked delicious, that was far too much food for her to eat.
“How can I help you, ma’am?” the man behind the counter asked with a smile as he opened the back of the case. “If you’re feeling like chicken tonight, I just made these up fresh. We use an herb butter to coat the split breast then wrap provolone cheese around the asparagus and tuck it inside. Last, we wrap it all up in bacon ‘cause who doesn’t like bacon? It’s a favorite here in the store.”
The description had her mouth watering. “That sounds delicious. I’d appreciate it if you package one of those up for me.”
“It’ll be my pleasure, ma’am.” The man finished lining up the remaining wrapped chicken breasts in the case, leaving the one he had personally selected aside. “Give me a minute, and I’ll have that ready for you.”
“Excuse me, sir, but I don’t see a price on the chicken you just put out.” The slender woman next to Melina looked hungrily into the case.
Melina hadn’t considered the cost. It sounded delicious, perhaps not as healthy given the butter and bacon he’d mentioned, but it was the meal she decided to cook for herself that night.
When the attendant behind the counter mentioned the price, Melina watched the younger woman with long overdue blonde highlights wince before she called out her thanks and moved on. Dreadful memories of Melina’s penny-pinching teen years surfaced before she brushed them aside and considered returning to the vegetable area to pick up romaine lettuce for salad to accompany her meal.
Wandering through the aisles and filling her cart with what she considered man food, Melina ran into the young woman again. Covertly watching her had been easy since she seemed to be preoccupied by inner thoughts and carefully selecting inexpensive brands. She had the saddest brown eyes, as though she’d recently received bad news. Right outside of the Army base, that could mean her husband, or a friend, had been killed in action. Automatically, Melina’s gaze dropped to the woman’s left hand. No gold band or engagement ring. Perhaps she’d recently lost a friend.
The pain of losing Jacin speared her heart, and Melina leaned heavily on her cart handle. But she hadn’t lost Jacin. She’d shoved him away. She had no one to blame but herself.
“Are you all right?”
Melina opened her eyes, not realizing she’d closed them to hold back the stream of tears that threatened to overflow. The woman she’d just been observing now stood at the other end of her nearly full shopping cart.
Melina forced a smile. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
The pretty woman stared at her for several heartbeats. Only then did Melina notice the purple streak in her hair that screamed defiant and fun. “Okay.” With that single word, she turned and pushed her nearly empty cart to the end of the aisle to shop for soup.
Scanning her full cart, amazed at the amount of food she’d selected for her brother, she grinned wondering if he even knew how to cook half the dishes she’d planned. She could probably kill several hours writing out recipes and instructions. It would be a much better use of her time then wallowing in self-pity.
Ten minutes later, she found herself in the checkout line behind the woman she seemed to have followed through the entire grocery store.
“Can you show me a total of what I have so far?” The woman who had spoken so kindly to her minutes ago stood with her wallet open as she counted its contents. When the cashier gave her a subtotal, Melina watched the grimace cross her already worried face before she glanced back and forth between her current purchases and items remaining in her basket. “I’ll just put these back, but I need these.”
With an understanding glance, the cashier said nothing as she subtracted items, setting them aside, and added the new ones. When she announced the total, the woman handed over several bills then recounted the remaining money.
“Do you want help carrying this out?” the fresh-faced high school boy who’d bagged her groceries asked.
Embarrassed, she didn’t look at the kid. Winding her arms through the loops on the few plastic bags, she said in a very small voice, “Thanks. I’ve got this.”
Melina had already unloaded half her cart onto the belt as she looked at the pile of store brand soup, spaghetti noodles, off-brand bologna, and a bag of carrots as well as several other items.
Well, hell. Melina glanced at her half-full cart before returning her gaze to the unpurchased food set off to the side.
Catching the cashier’s gaze, she instructed, “Would you please ring up those items first?”
Confusion written all over her face, the cashier asked, “That stuff the other lady left?”
“Yes, quickly.” Melina dug into her purse for her wallet and extracted a ten-dollar bill. Handing it to the wide-eyed bag boy, she ordered, “Please take these items out to the woman with a purple streak in her hair who just left. If she gives you grief, tell her she forgot to pick up these bags.”
The register beeped rapidly as the cashier swiped barcodes across the glass plate and handed the items directly to the young man. As she passed him the last can of soup, she ordered, “Hurry, Danny, and get right back in here. This lady’s gonna need your help.” Smiling at Melina, her hands never stopped moving groceries through the checkout. “That’s a mighty fine thing you just done.”
As the uniformed cashier slid the last item toward the new bag boy, she paused, then looked directly into Melina’s eyes and lowered her voice. “Why did you do it? Pay for that other lady’s groceries?”
“I used to be her.” Melina was embarrassed when her voice cracked on the small sentence.
She could feel the forty-something woman totaling her value as quickly as she’d hit the key summing up the groceries. Melina paid her salon two-hundred-fifty dollars every six weeks for the haircut and golden highlights. The logo on the crisp button-down shirt screamed money as did the tailored slacks. The wedge sandals she wore probably cost more than the clerk made in a month. Yes, Melina liked nice clothes and could now afford them.
“Don’t look like you’re her anymore,” the other woman accused.
“No, but I’ve never forgotten what it’s like to be hungry.” Melina signed the small plastic screen and pushed her overflowing cart into the parking lot.
“Look, I was told to bring these bags to you.” The first bagger held out the groceries to the woman whose purple streak gleamed in the midday Texan sun.
“Who told you these were mine?”
The teen used that opportunity to shove the bags into the woman’s truck. “That lady.” He pointed toward Melina as he trotted back to the store.
The woman grabbed the new bags and approached her, arms extended as though to give back the three bags of groceries. “I believe these are your groceries, not mine.”
Melina shook her head. “No. I’m positive those are yours. The boy had yet to pack them up when you grabbed your bags and left. All I did was insist he catch you.”
Nearly in tears, the woman stood a little straighter as sad light brown eyes met Melina’s darker ones. “Thank you. I appreciate this.” She held out her hand. “I’m Chanda. Chanda Reiser.”
“Melina Torres.” Staying with that name seemed as good an idea as any. Besides, she’d be gone in a day or two anyway. Her name didn’t matter.
“Thank you.” As they shook hands, Chanda quickly explained, “I had to wait for my prescriptions to be filled at the pharmacy across the street, so I thought I’d pick up a few things. They’re new medicines, so I don’t know how much my shitty insurance company is going to cover. I wanted to be sure I had enough left for the co-pay.”
Melina wanted to hug her. The young woman was proud, yet willing to accept a gift.
“I understand.” Melina gave her what she hoped was a sympathetic smile, but she really had no idea what the young woman was going through. Ever since starting to work for the government, she’d never had to pay for healthcare of any kind. As a child, they had always been on government assistance and never paid for insurance or medical bills, either.
Screeching tires grabbed her attention away from Chanda. Melina rapidly scanned up and down the row of parked cars where they stood several feet from trunks. An old brown panel van came around the far end, speeding straight toward them.
Both women jumped back between the closest parked cars.
The van squealed to a stop five feet away, and the side door opened.
Two men wearing long sleeves and ski masks jumped out into the hot Texas sun.
“That’s her,” the man on the left said in a familiar dialect of Spanish.
Melina shoved Chanda to the pavement then stepped into the aisle, pushing her cart aside. Taking a fighting stance, Melina was prepared to fight off the two men.
Damn it. My gun is in the SUV.
She’d never considered for an instant that she’d need weapons now that she was back in the United States. In Colombia, she carried a gun and several knives even when relaxing around her own home, plus several more were hidden so she was never more than an arm’s reach from a weapon.
“Want to fight, pequena dama ?” called the guy on the right in heavily accented English.
“I’m no little lady,” she replied in a Colombian dialect.
Melina stepped toward the men, blocking Chanda from their view, willing to take on both with her bare hands.