Chapter 49
DECLAN
My eyes beg for sleep. My head announces a headache will arrive soon if I don’t rest. Still, I get back to work. A few more emails and then I can stop. I tap out the necessary messages and shut down the screen I’ve been staring at for two hours.
Today has been relentless. Even though the authorities arrived to take Blaed into custody earlier today, Oliver and I stayed on site to respond to every question they had for us. We gave answers. Some more forthcoming than others.
They were also dispatched to apprehend a trespasser in a company-owned property. The cavalry went to the safehouse to take Ian in. Neither Oliver nor I wanted to see him. I’ve spent the past hour ensuring his access to any FIRE systems was thoroughly revoked.
Oliver was able to back up everything he said with security footage.
Ian went to the property and pointed a gun at Charlie.
She escaped, only to be taken by Xander Caruso and Blaed Johannson.
They’re now involving the federal authorities to track down X.C.
, who fled like a little bitch. No mention of their motive, though.
And Charlie. My breath catches and I tell myself to push it aside.
The fear, the self-loathing. I don’t have the luxury of letting that crash over me.
Not yet. It feels like a week has passed since I woke up next to Charlie in the safehouse this morning.
How blissful the day began is a cruel reminder of how quickly it devolved.
I close my laptop and set it on the coffee table before standing.
Being in Charlie’s apartment is like we’re in stasis; we’re in a cocoon of safety. Within this home, I can forget everything outside. We can stay here and nothing can get to us. But that’s not reality.
I make my way down the hallway to her room. Charlie is asleep on her bed, where I tucked her into her pink frilly duvet.
She lost consciousness on the container ship.
The paramedics checked her. Her blood sugar was dangerously low.
Thankfully, she was able to eat and relay her story to the police before they drove her to the hospital for further examination.
Blood tests, a walking cast for her foot, and a follow-up appointment with a podiatrist scheduled, and she was released.
Oliver and I didn’t get to the hospital until she was nearly ready to be discharged.
When it was time to leave, Oliver offered Charlie a ride home.
We all piled into his car and I asked him to drop me off at the safehouse to get my SUV.
Oliver didn’t ask about how my vehicle got there before it went on lockdown.
He didn’t show his suspicions, which would have been confirmed when Charlie changed vehicles and asked me to drive her home.
I lean against the doorframe and watch her rest. She’s safe, I remind myself. For now, she is safe.
As if Charlie can sense my presence, she stirs, gently opening her eyes. “Hey,” she coos, reaching for her glasses out of habit.
I walk over so I can hand them to her. The bruises on her wrists from the ropes catch my attention.
The welt on her face is already purple, though the ice pack I left her with has kept the swelling down.
I raised her foot up on one of her throw pillows, her new boot waiting for her at the edge of her bed.
Seeing her injuries, my anger builds again.
“I got it,” I tell her as I sit next to her on the bed.
She puts on her glasses and props her head up on her elbow, still lying down. “Thank you,” she says, as her free hand stretches for mine.
I have so much to say and I don’t want to say any of it, so I swallow my words.
“Any updates?” she asks. Her memory of this morning must be fuzzy.
I nod. “Yeah, Oliver and Celine are handling the local papers to make sure FIRE isn’t mentioned in any coverage.
She drove up from our Miami event to sort it out.
We removed the container heading to C?te d’Ivoire, and the bomb squad is going through it meticulously to remove the explosives.
” A deep breath escapes me and I rub my eyes.
“I should contact Raj and his team. Better to forget the damn shirts at this point,” she mutters and reaches for her phone.
“Already on it,” I assure her.
Charlie glances at the clock on her bedside table. It’s late afternoon. “You’ve been working this whole time?”
“You know me,” I respond.
“Declan,” she says before taking a deep breath. I know what’s coming. She will apologize and explain. But she isn’t to blame for any of this. I already start to shake my head, rejecting her apology.
“I’ll never forgive myself,” I whisper, hoping this strong woman doesn’t see me for the weak coward that I am.
“It’s not your fault.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m a big girl. At any point, I could have quit. After you locked me out. After we were shot at. After being stuck in a storage unit. After any of it. I could have quit my job, broken my lease, and run back home.”
I watch her as she says this. The color has returned to her cheeks, the light in her eyes is bright.
“I stayed because I want to help. I want my life to mean something.”
“But the risk, the danger . . .” I begin.
“Life is risk. Life is danger. I could have risked an autoimmune flare by going for a run or eating something my body doesn’t like. I could have been hit by a bus any day this week. If I’m living this life, I want to live it.”
I silently consider her words.
“And you should too.”
I shake my head. “I had a rule for a reason. My worst fears played out today. Charlie, I’ve only had a brief moment to care for you, and you were taken from me. They could have killed you.”
“Declan,” she says.
“I can’t,” I admit. “I can’t let this happen again.
I care for you too much.” I stop speaking because I know I’m about to cry.
“I think I might –” I stop myself before I say “love” because the word is too powerful.
Once I say it, I know my heart will accept it.
And that will make this all the more difficult.
I glance down at her hand, the one that’s intertwined in mine. The one that is bruised and bandaged.
“Declan, they were coming after me anyways,” she murmurs.
I look at her, willing this to be true, but shake my head. “No.”
“Yes. That Blaed guy planted a device on me in my first week. When I was Oliver’s assistant. Before anything with us started.”
“But they knew what you mean to me,” I explain. “They sent a picture to my phone of you tied up because they knew how much it would hurt me.”
“Now they know what we mean to each other,” she corrects, “they’d still come after me to get to you or go after you to get to me. Should we both be miserable staying apart from each other and have to contend with that?”
I had everything I wanted last night and today it’s frightening to hope again.
“Declan, I can’t do this without you. It will be torture to not be with you.
To see you fall out of love with me.” Her mention of the word has my attention jumping from her hands to her eyes.
“To see you one day decide that someone else is worth breaking your rule for.” Her blue eyes are swimming with tears.
I want to kiss them all away. “I won’t beg you to be with me, Declan.
” She shakes her head. “If you set this boundary, I’ll respect it.
Even if I hate it.” She looks away, as her tears spill over.
“I know you want what’s good for me,” she says as though she’s explaining it to herself.
This woman in front of me is so strong. She’ll do what’s “right” for her, even if it feels wrong.
She quit her passion for running because it was best for her health. And she’ll quit me too if I demand it.
But I don’t want what is good for her. I want her to live a great life. And I want one too. Sometimes good is the enemy of great. A steady string of tears silently spills down her cheek.
My heart snaps. I made her cry. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. And I promise myself it will never happen again.
All this time I’ve wanted to be the hero, to save the day.
It’s always stressful and it makes me stronger; my walls go up higher.
But this time I literally just rushed in to try to save the girl.
And sitting here next to Charlie, seeing how tough she is underneath her sweet demeanor, I think maybe she’s throwing me a lifeline.
I can choose for her to rescue me. From my isolation.
From my self-imposed, self-important rules.
This is it. This is the moment I’ll regret for the rest of my life if I leave her now. I will know this is where I made my biggest mistake. Not many people can pinpoint that moment in real time.
I can change this, I tell myself.
“No,” I say. “I want this. I want us. I’m willing to take the risk if you are,” I say as I gently rub her hand.
There are tears on my cheeks, but there’s no taking them back now.
Not when we are balanced on this razor-thin precipice.
I’m not ashamed to cry; I’m just not used to it. “Because the pain is worth it.”
At these words, echoing hers earlier this week, her eyes snap back to mine.
“It is,” she replies, and with a weak smile I know we are going to be OK.
I lean down and kiss her. I want to be gentle, not sure how much of her is hurting.
Our lips touch and I swear we are melting together.
It’s a sweet and slow kiss. The kind you savor, which works as a balm, healing everything within me.
I break our kiss to wipe the tears off her face.
She reaches up and does the same for me.
Charlie wraps her arms round my neck and guides me on top of her. We kiss. We touch. And then we sleep. I spend the afternoon holding Charlie tight, afraid this dream will end again.
When I wake, she is there, and it feels like the beginning of a new era. The clock reads 8:30 p.m.
Charlie stirs next to me; I didn’t mean to wake her.
“So, about that date,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.
“How about a night in tonight and I make reservations for when you’re all healed?”
I hate to disappoint her, but I don’t think either of us are up for a night on the town.
“Sold!” Charlie says before turning her face to kiss me.
Me too, Ross.