Chapter 19
Three minutes.
That’s all it took from when Britt’s eyes closed until she was blissfully asleep, her head cocooned by the down feather pillow. The desire to be close to her was overwhelming.
The moment she'd stepped out of the bathroom, time stopped.
Those damn cotton shorts and that flimsy tank top were innocent enough—the kind of thing any woman might wear to bed.
But on Britt, they were lethal. The fabric stretched tight across the hard nipples of her breasts.
The shorts struggled to contain her ass.
His cock had swelled instantly before his brain could shut it down.
The same visceral reaction he'd had a thousand times before when they were together.
He’d kept his distance to stop from doing something he shouldn’t—like wrapping her in his arms and showing her how much he’d missed her.
Play out every fantasy that dominated his mind as he grieved the woman he loved.
The urge was strong, especially after she admitted her attraction to him.
He’d been amused by her brazen eye-fucking and more than a bit turned on.
But the pull was tempered by the look in her eyes—he was a stranger to her. For now.
Squatting next to the bed, Lachlan dragged his fingertips across her forehead, gently moving strands of hair from her eyelids. He’d watched her sleep hundreds of times. Thought he’d never get to do this again. But Britt was here—the purest of miracles.
It tore at his soul that she didn’t believe this beautiful face was hers.
That the longing she saw in his eyes for her was for some other woman and not the one looking back at him.
Every instinct screamed at him to tell her about the precious times they’d shared—flying on a helicopter tour of the islands on their first official date, walking along the black sand beach of the Tango Lowlands, staring at the ultrasound of their little hen.
He’d slipped up earlier. Britt had caught his comment about her and wanted answers.
Answers he wasn’t prepared to give. Not without knowing the ramifications from a qualified medical professional.
She’d already been subjected to horrendous mental and psychological torture.
He wasn’t going to make things worse. He wouldn’t be like that bastard who’d held her captive, even if holding back felt like swallowing broken glass.
But he couldn’t help wondering if being around him was already helping her to remember. Compelling her subconscious to recreate conversations they’d had in the past.
Seven years ago, he broke protocol by concealing a key witness during the PIIB's investigation of a yacht explosion near St. Killian.
Britt was traumatized, confronting the dangers of being a cartel leader's daughter for the first time.
She needed time to process the attempt on her life and asked for his help to disappear.
And damn if he hadn’t been able to tell her no.
Days had turned into weeks, then months.
Until her reason for staying had nothing to do with the reason she’d wanted to be hidden. A pivotal moment had tipped the scales between them, shifting from friends to two people destined to fall in love.
But you’re attracted to me, aren’t you?
Fuck Britt, why are you asking me this?
Because I need to know before I embarrass myself.
Trust me, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.
Prove it.
I’m not proving a damn thing while you’re wearing another man’s ring on your hand.
Britt looked down at her left hand, then used her thumb to flick the engagement ring from her finger.
His heart pounded as it tumbled to the floor.
He couldn’t think about their past when she was this close.
A test of his willpower he wasn’t confident he could win.
Grabbing a blanket from the bottom drawer of the armoire, he stalked over to the couch and flopped down onto the cushions.
Draping the blanket over his body, he reached for his phone.
The hours ticked by in a blur as he scrolled mindlessly through news articles and social media videos, unable to sleep.
Somewhere deep inside, he worried that if he fell asleep, Britt wouldn’t be here when he woke up.
This dream would end. He’d be plunged back into the nightmare of life where Britt was actually gone.
Lifting his phone, he activated the night mode camera option, then aimed the lens toward Britt.
His finger hovered over the button to take a photo when his phone buzzed in his hand.
Fumbling the device, it fell to the floor. Lachlan looked down and saw a new text message … from Stacy Jackson. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then tapped the screen.
Stacy
I’m sorry. Losing someone you loved is hard. I shouldn’t have made it about me. I’m sorry. Call me. Please.
Lachlan sat up on the couch. He swallowed hard, his skin clammy as shame twisted his gut into knots. He’d almost been unfaithful to Britt. If he hadn’t called out her name, he and Stacy would have …
He lurched to his feet, clutching the phone as he walked toward the bed. Britt had been held captive, desperate to get free, while he was about to move on with another woman. How could he not have known that Britt was still alive? Felt her presence, even if it didn’t make sense?
Britt shifted in the bed, her arms twitching slightly as her head turned from one side to the other. A soft whimper escaped her lips as he stood over her.
Three years of grieving. Endless days of waking up, reaching for her, catching himself buying her favorite coffee, scrolling through pictures of her on his phone, listening to voice messages she’d left for him.
He’d been unable and unwilling to let go of Britt until he’d seen the sadness in his daughter’s eyes, watching the other kids interacting with their mothers.
He confided in Stacy, telling her how it tore his heart to see Paloma struggling. She stepped in without him asking, with warm smiles, gentle understanding, and compassion for his daughter.
Stace had brought a light to Paloma’s eyes that a father couldn’t bring. Along the way, she’d tried to heal his broken heart, too. As they grew closer, he’d convinced himself it was time. Time to stop being faithful to a ghost.
Except Britt wasn't a ghost. She was flesh and blood and needed him. And that made his betrayal unforgivable, not just because he’d opened his heart and bed to another woman. But he’d used a good and kind friend as a bandage for a wound he knew couldn’t be healed.
He had no idea how to handle the mess he’d created.
How to let Stace down easily. How to get Britt to remember his love for her.
How to connect his daughter with the mother she thought she’d never have.
Because he wouldn’t deprive his daughter of knowing her real mother.
To forge a connection with Britt … just like Britt had done with Paloma in the park.
Another memory surfaced.
Britt swiped at the sweat covering her face, then swooped down, picking up Paloma as she patted a pile of dirt in the backyard.
Her hand curved protectively around their giggling child, swatting away the few ants crawling on her little hand.
“Only our child would try to play with an ant bed. I swear I can feel it when she needs me,” Britt said. “Is that crazy?”
Not crazy.
Britt had to be the woman Paloma had seen in the park.
The one his little girl thought was Mommy’s angel who had come from heaven to protect her.
Even without her memories, Britt had been drawn to her daughter.
The mother’s instinct deep within had propelled Britt to risk her life to help Paloma hide.
Every day Britt was in St. Felipe, she remembered more of her life. Tiny fragments, disjointed pieces, but it was happening.
And he couldn’t help but think that being around him and Paloma at the same time could help her remember so much more. He could have Britt back sooner if she … came home to live with them.
Lachlan eased onto the bed next to Britt. She jerked in her sleep as sweat dotted her forehead. Incoherent words tumbled from her lips as her breath quickened. He leaned forward, reaching a hand toward her—
A blood-curdling scream shattered the silence.