September: Calendar Girl Book 9 (10 page)

Max nodded. “Back to me, yes. It’s from my personal account. If you want it in cash, I’ll have it by the end of the day waiting for you at the front desk of your casino. I wanted to bring that check to show good faith.”

Blaine’s eyebrow rose. “You don’t mind if I make a call, verify you’re good for it?”

Max huffed. “Not at all.”

With a tilt of his head, one of Blaine’s goons took the check and stepped over to the backside of the patio. For the first time, I looked around and realized there weren’t any other patrons and it was lunchtime on a Friday in the shopping district. Guess Blaine was making sure our situation was kept private. Chugging the new glass of wine Blaine poured me, I waited impatiently. I didn’t know what to do or say to Max. What could I say to make something like this better?

With jerky movements, I placed my hands over Max’s. He held one and topped the other with his big palm. I looked into his eyes, green to green, and tried desperately to convey all the feelings and emotions I had for him, for what he sacrificed to save my life, Maddy’s, Ginelle’s, and Pops’s. “Thank you.” I choked on the words. He brought his forehead to mine. The instant his touched mine I felt that sizzle of familiarity. That feeling a person gets when she’s with family. It had happened the very first day I met him at the airport and shook his hand.

“I’d do it again. A hundred times over to keep you safe and in my life. I love you, Sis.” Max’s voice was low, filled with affection. Those words wormed their way right through my chest and into my heart where they took up shop.

“I love you, too, Maximus.” I pulled him close and hugged him hard. “And I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

He chuckled. “Honey, you’re going to be a rich woman very soon. You’ll find a way.” He leaned back, cupped my cheeks, and wiped my tears with his thumbs.

“We’re good, boss,” said mafia boy.

Blaine put his hands together, fingers in a steeple. “Pity, pretty Mia. I was so looking forward to having you under me again.”

Just his words sent a chill through me, and I shivered.

That’s when Max had enough. “Time to go, darlin’.” He tugged on my bicep, all but lifting me right out of my chair. “I’ll have your cash to you this evening by seven. The bank has been notified I might need it on short notice and is putting it together now.”

“Splendid.” Blaine stood up, buttoned a single button on his jacket, and put his hand out.

Max stared at the hand but eventually shook it. God, the guy was too good. There needed to be a million more men like him running the world. It would be a far happier, more peaceful place.

Max put his hand to my lower back and pressed me forward.

“Wait!” Blaine said, and I turned around. He walked slowly to me, like a lion slinks forward readying to pounce. I inhaled and waited for him to place his cool hands on my biceps. “I believe this is the end, is it not?”

“My debt is clear,” I answered.

He stroked my arms up and down. “You are free, pretty, pretty Mia.” Blaine leaned forward, and I could practically feel the tension rippling off Max as Blaine kissed one cheek and then the other. Lastly, he lifted a hand, cupped my cheek, and rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb. “I always wanted the best for you. In my own way. Be well.”

On that parting phrase, he turned around and strode purposely out of the restaurant. Max ushered me out to his car, but before he could open the door, I gripped his hand, tugged hard, and smashed my face into his chest. I looped my hands around his waist and hugged him hard. I put everything I had into that single hug.

Fear.

Grief.

Relief.

And ended it with heaping dose of gratitude.

I’d never be able to pay him back and I wasn’t referring to the money. That I’d pay back no problem between the job and the money I was going to get from the company. I just wouldn’t to be able to pay back the gift of
him
. His presence when I needed him. Taking care of me the way he did. All I knew was that I’d spend the rest of my days being grateful and appreciative of everything that was Maxwell Cunningham until the day I died. He’d lifted his position in my life right up there alongside my baby sister, and that was a position I never thought another soul besides Wes could occupy.

T
hey say freedom is a privilege
, not a right. I don’t feel very privileged or truly free. The debt to Blaine was paid, but my heart was still locked away in a dungeon, begging to be liberated. My father was doing well, his prognosis good. Though his own mind was still locked away.

My savior, my brother Max, has flown back home to be with his wife, Cyndi, in the hope that baby Jackson will soon make his appearance. Maddy and Matt have started school and gone back to the comfort of their apartment near the university. Ginelle chose to go back to work, armed with some heavy-duty makeup to cover her still healing bruises. Her own plans have changed since the attack. We got her set up with a counselor to work through what happened, but she told me that, when I got back home and settled with Wes, she too would like to head out. Get a change of scenery, a new job. Basically, she wanted to get the hell out of Las Vegas, and I didn’t blame her. There were too many memories of harsh times to live through. I’d do whatever it took to help her heal, and if that included shacking her up in Wes’s guest house, that’s what we’d do.

I’d thought about the word
home
for some time now. Though Sin City had been home to me for most of my life, I didn’t feel like the real me here. Malibu was calling, but who would greet me when I landed? It seemed like everyone’s life had continued to move forward. Everyone’s but mine. In a week, I was supposed to be starting on the TV show with celebrity doctor to the stars, Dr. Hoffman, but I didn’t feel ready for that leap. I couldn’t pay him the hundred thousand for flaking though so, no matter what was going on, I had to go. He hired me to do a new segment spun off from my own slice of fame. The segment was aptly labeled
Living Beautiful
.

Only problem, life for me no longer had color. All I saw were shades of gray, black, and white. The beauty surrounding me had disappeared, seeped out until all colors bled away into nothing. I felt like nothing.

Lying on the hotel room bed, I stared out at the sky—dark, covered in clouds, the desert preparing for a summer storm. It fit my mood perfectly. Storms were unusual at that time of year but not all together unheard of. I sat up Indian style, my phone clutched in my hand. Thunder rumbled in the distance and I started to count.

One Mississippi…

Two Mississippi…

Three Mississippi…

Four Mississippi….

Boom! Thunder roared and lightning hit. Somewhere I heard that every five seconds between the flash and thunder meant the storm was one mile away. A blinding white slash raced across the slate sky like a too-bright camera flash, momentarily taking away my vision. As quick as it came, it was gone. Just like Wes.

Weston Channing, III entered my life on a wave. Literally. From the moment he stepped from surf to sand, I watched him walk toward me. A sun god. Tanned skin, spiky wet hair, the ocean’s tears falling down a chest that could have been chiseled in stone it was so hard. His eyes, the color of fresh cut grass in the middle of a Californian spring day, met mine, but that wasn’t what drew me in. It was his confidence, the quirky smile, the effortless way he walked, spoke, and made love. As if his body were meant to be near mine. Touched by me. Held within the safety of my arms.

Or maybe it was the reverse of that. My need to be near him. Touched by
his
hand,
his
heart,
his
soul.

“Please come back to me,” I prayed aloud.

My phone rang. It jerked me out of my melancholy mood, and I looked down.

Unknown caller.

Heat hit the core of my being, burning me from the inside out as an instant prickling sensation made the hairs on my arms stand at attention. The phone rang again and I picked it up, pressed the answer button, and took a breath. “Hello?” I croaked into the phone, too scared to say anything more.

“Mia,” came the breathless reply, almost as if it took him extreme effort to say the three-letter word.

Tears rippled down my face. “Wes,” I said, not knowing what else to say but needing to say everything in a single breath. My heart was in my throat, my body convulsing with tension. I gripped the phone in my hand so hard and so close to my ear, pain shot through my hand, but I didn’t care.

“Sweetheart, your voice. Jesus, baby so good to hear…” He cleared his throat and sighed deep. So deep I could feel the pressure all around me.

“Wes, tell me you’re okay.” I finally managed to string more than one word together.

He coughed roughly. “I’m okay. Just a little worse for the wear.”

Leave it to my guy to be flippant at a time like this. “I need to see you, touch you, to believe you’re real.”

His breathing became labored as he replied, “I know. I want to see you so bad it hurts. But I can’t. I have to uh, stay here a little while, arrrrggghh.”

“What is it? What is it? Are you hurt?” My voice shook so hard, I’m not even sure I said what I thought I said. A knife to the chest would have been easier to deal with than knowing Wes was in pain, had been wounded in some way and I couldn’t physically get to him.

“Yeah, baby, I’m hurt. Took uh, a bullet to the neck. I’m okay though. Really I’m going to be fine.” He groaned and I heard a rustling sound but everything started to become a little fuzzy after what he’d said.

Took a bullet to the neck.

The neck! Who takes a bullet to the neck and lives to tell about it? “Wes, baby, I need to see you. Right fucking now. Where are you? Tell me where you are. I’ll be on the next flight out. I have friends that have private planes. My brother could send me in his.” I rushed my words, already planning who to call next to reach him the fastest.

“Your brother?” His tone was confused and I didn’t blame him.

I pressed my fingers into my temples. “Yeah, I have a brother. A real brother. DNA proved it. And he, uh, he paid off Pops’s debt.”

“What, who?” he said tersely, but I wasn’t sure if it was because he was in pain or because he was hearing such surprising information for the first time.

“Maxwell Cunningham.”

He coughed and whimpered. “Fuck!” he said breathily again. “Stop with the blood pressure cuff. I’m trying to talk to my fiancée. Back off. Give me a minute,” he growled.

Fiancée? I’d let that go for now. He probably just wanted to make sure the person interrupting him knew it was an important call. Probably. Maybe. “Who are you talking to?” I asked.

“Nurse Ratched!” he said, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t saying it to me as much as to whoever was checking on him.

“Wes, honey, where are you?” My entire being was frantic for any hint of information.

“Australia, I think.”

What the fuck was he doing in Australia? “You were in Indonesia last I heard.”

“Yeah, when the raid happened, they had to medevac a lot of us out of there, and since we’d been taken to Indonesia and held captive, they wanted to get us to a safer locale where our government had some healthy peaceful ties.”

Leaning back against the headboard, I stared out at the dark sky. “When can I see you?”

He sighed. “Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t know. They are interviewing the captives as quickly as possible but also making sure we’re safe. You’re friend Mr. Shipley has been on everyone’s ass. Making a real name for himself.” He chuckled then made a wincing sound.

God, if only I were there, I could kiss it better. I’d have to contact Warren, tell him how much it meant to me to have used his connection.

My voice cracked when I told him how I felt. “Baby, I want to hold your hand. Watch you sleep. Feel your chest rise and fall. Hear your heart beating. I
need
you home.”

“I want nothing more than to come home to you, sweetheart. Soon. I promise. I’ll do everything I can to get out of here.”

“Can you call me every day until you get back?”

Once again, he chuckled, only this time softly. “They gave each of us a cell phone. We can talk as much as we want.”

The elephant sitting on my chest got up and moseyed away. I still felt the remnants of the burden, but over time, that would lessen.

“So…your fiancée, huh?” I couldn’t help but mess with him a little. Banter with my guy the way we always did.

He hummed and the sound went straight to my happy place. Wes was back. Thank you, God.

“There’s a lot we need to talk about but yeah, you and me, that’s just the way it’s going to be. I’m not waiting for paradise. I’m throwing you over my shoulder kicking and screaming and taking you there. I will not live another day of my life worrying about you. About what would happen to you if I’d died out there.”

“Don’t. Wes, just don’t even say it.” The tears came back on a rampage.

“Mia, we can’t hide from life. We never know how much time we have or what could happen to us as we’re living it. All I know is I’m going to do it with you by my side. For good. It’s me and you. You
will
be my wife.”

I laughed through the tears and rejoiced in the feeling of my chest widening, my heart growing so big it could burst with joy. “And what if I say no?” I joked, knowing he’d hear it in my tone.

“No is not an option.” His voice lowered, and the sultry tone that made me instantly wet slid across his lips.

“It’s yes, Wes. Oh, God, Wes, yes. Give it to me harder, Wes. Yes, I will marry you, Wes.”

He hummed again and the sound went through me as if I’d been struck by the lightening flickering in the sky outside the window. “I’m a nice guy. I’ll give you options.”

I kicked my feet and screamed silently. My guy was something else. Locked away in some military hospital in Australia after having been held captive for almost a month, and he was talking marriage and joking around with his girlfriend after taking a gunshot to the neck.

“I was really scared,” I admitted in a hushed tone.

“Me too. And I’m dealing with some of that now by helping save others that may still be out there. I have to help. If I can be here a week more and save even one person, sweetheart, it would be worth it. We have our entire lives together.”

“That we do.” I said, trying to lighten the situation enough to get through this week. If he could live through a month of hell, I could manage a week.

“I love you, Mia.” Wes saying those words, being able to hear them come from his very lips, was like a cool drink on a hot day.

“I love you more, Wes. So much more.” I swallowed repeatedly and wiped my running nose against my sleeve.

“Nurse Ratched needs to change my bandage,” he stated on a long yawn and an “ouch.”

“Okay. Will you call me when you wake up tomorrow?” I’d meant it as a question but it was really more of a plea.

He yawned and mumbled something.

“Wes!” Fear scattered along every nerve when he didn’t respond.

“Yeah, sorry, baby. I think she doped me. My eyes are closing faster than I can open them.”

“I love you,” I said again for no other reason than it felt good saying it.

“Mmm, me too. My Mia.” He sounded drunk and half asleep. Then the line cut off.

With heavy limbs, I snuggled into the comforter, holding the phone close. I tucked myself in and watched the light show outside. All my thoughts were of Wes. The relief I felt, knowing he was safe and being taken care of, but frustrated that I wasn’t there to help. I also thought about marrying him, living a long life together. It would all start when he got back home.

I had so much to tell him, and I wanted to know all the details about his captivity. Kiss away any hurts that couldn’t be seen. I knew from experience from the assault with Aaron, that those things could be long lasting. Mine was so brief compared to what Wes had survived. It wouldn’t be easy to move on from something so horrible. I knew for a fact that he’d watched friends, people he cared about, die right before his eyes. Right now, I could only be thankful that he was alive. My guy had survived and together we’d heal. Both of us.

W
atching
someone I love sleep is one of my favorite past times. Growing up, it was Maddy. She’d fall asleep while I read to her, petted her hair, and told her stories. For a long time after she’d fallen asleep, I’d look at her. Memorize the exact golden shade of her hair, the arch of her brows, the pucker of her pink lips. Even in sleep, my girl was angelic. I took a lot of joy in being able to give my sister a peaceful night’s sleep. Each and every day it was a new goal. When I was with Alec, I’d play with his hair until he’d wake up smiling, roll over, and ravish me, allowing those beautiful russet locks to lie like a shroud around my face as he loved me. I did the same with Wes. He was the most peaceful in sleep, and when he was face up, he always had a slight curve to his lips. As if whatever he dreamed of was worth smiling for, even in repose. I loved that about him. There was no other man more beautiful in repose than a man you loved with your whole heart and soul.

Now, I watched Pops. The ventilator was gone, as were the tubes in his nose and around his face. He still had the feeding tube, catheter, blood pressure cuff, and IV. Otherwise, he looked as though he was taking a nap. I think that was the hardest part about him having been in a coma for so long. While I waited by his bedside, I kept expecting him to open his eyes. Every visit depressed me more and more because he wouldn’t wake up.

The doctors said after the seizures, almost dying from the two allergic reactions, and the viral infection they had hope he’d wake up, but there was no telling. The only saving grace was that, according to the neurologist, there was brain activity but they couldn’t be certain what that would mean if or until he woke up. I asked the age-old question repeatedly. When did they think he’d awaken?. And they always said the same thing. When he wanted to. The truth was, they couldn’t know. There was no magic “easy” button or master alarm that we could set to make it happen. And believe me, the noise thing? Yeah, I tried that. Banging on the rails of his bed. Putting headphones over his ears with metal music that I knew he hated just so he’d wake up and tell me to turn the devil music off, but nothing. Silence. No movement whatsoever.