Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders (17 page)

“If you want to keep all your teeth, you’ll start running now!”

The guy took off toward the water, and Eve ran to the house. God, would he blame her? Was he mad at her? Did he think she was trying to seduce the football player? Her spine tingled with unrelenting chill. She ripped the suit off and frantically dug through the bags of new clothes looking for anything to cover her skin. She overturned all the packages and packed duffel bags from home, but there were only skimpy clothes—shorts, tank tops, flimsy lingerie, too-small swimwear.

Her hands went to her mouth to stifle a strangled cry as she recalled piercing brown eyes and felt again the spittle on her face from his anger all those years. Then her gaze landed on Clay’s neatly folded clothes atop the dresser. She pulled one of his T-shirts over her body and as her head popped through the neck, she saw him staring back at her. She felt cold as fear took over. Her eyes went blurry, and she involuntarily lowered to a protective crouch as fear clenched her in its fingers the way dark grips the ocean floor.

“Eve? Are you okay?”

He started walking toward her and she instinctively scuttled away. Her hands went up to protect her face. “Please.” She was trembling as she remembered her first beating. “Please don’t hurt me.
Please
. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes tight, waiting for the first blow.

“Oh God, Eve.” His voice was laced with cracks and sorrow. “I could never hurt you. Come back to me. I love you. You didn’t do anything wrong. No one did. You’re safe here with me. Open your eyes.”

She heard his words.
His
words.
Clay’s
words. And his rich voice. With her eyes still tightly shut, she whispered, “Clay?”

“Yeah, love, it’s me.”

Her eyes opened slowly and then widened when she saw the intense lines of worry on his face. She lowered her hands, but he kept his distance until she went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Clay.”

He pulled her in tight and rubbed her back. “Where’d you go?”

Snuggling into the center of his chest, she could smell coconut from the sunblock mixed with his heated skin—the scent she’d come to know and love—and it comforted her.

He carried her to the bed and sat back with her in his arms.

“Eve, we need to talk. You need to tell me what happened back there.”

She clutched his biceps like it was a life raft. “I got scared.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were angry.”

“Not angry. Jealous, obsessive, protective. Not angry.”

She exhaled deeply. “You seemed mad.”

“I know.” He kissed the top of her head and pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “I’ll get angry. I’ll even get mad at you, and you’ll get mad at me. I may yell, you may yell. But I need to know that you trust I will never hit you. Never. I don’t do that.”

She started to pull away, but he held her tight against his chest.

“What is it?” he asked.

She rested her forehead against the muscles of his upper body and rubbed, needing to feel him. “I want to be normal, I do, but sometimes I get so frightened. I feel like I can’t breathe and my mind somehow places me back there—with him.” She gasped and rubbed her tears onto his skin as she burrowed into his chest.

“You don’t have to be frightened any more. You won’t have to face him ever again. I hate that he hurt you, that you carry the memories and the scars. I wish I could give my life for yours so you would never have known that pain. But you do know it and it’s part of who you are. It kills me when you retreat from me in sheer terror. Honestly, I can’t even believe that you can be with me, but you’re strong. You’re a fighter, Eve, and you can fight this. You’re strong enough to fight on your own, but you don’t have to.
We
can fight this.”

His hand went under her shirt to caress her bare back.

She nodded and exhaled a long sigh while snuggling into him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you if you need anything. Like counseling or therapy.”

She hated that she was broken. Did he think of her that way? Did he think she was weak?

“I had some therapy, but it wasn’t for me.”

“Okay, but if you want to try again, we can. I’ll support you or go with you, whatever you need.”

His warm hand massaged her shoulder under the shirt, skin on skin, and it felt luxurious. She could stay in his arms forever.

“I wish I could be less intense, or maybe shorter and smaller. I know I’m loud and overgrown. Are you scared now? Are you able to relax at all with me?”

Couldn’t he tell? She was now so relaxed that she felt boneless.

She felt terrible that he thought she was afraid of him, of his size and strength and intensity. Even when he’d loved her so roughly in the truck, she’d felt loved and desired. He was so passionate with her because he wanted her, not because he wanted to hurt her. She knew that. She felt it in his hands and saw it in his eyes. She even heard it in the way he said her name.

Nicolas hadn’t loved her. Not real love. He’d only wanted to use and hurt her.

She needed to make Clay understand. She turned in his arms. Cupping his cheeks in each palm, she bent and kissed lips, tenderly, sweetly. “Clay, it’s not like that. When I retreat, I see him. I hear him.” She frowned and shook her head. “No, when I see him,
then
I retreat. I try to find a safe place where he can’t follow. Where he won’t follow. My skin pimples from the chill Canadian air. I smell his overly priced cologne. I am a million miles from you, but I’m always trying to find my way back. When the tenor of your voice sings me back, I instantly feel the safety and comfort of your world. You envelop me in protection and love like I’ve never known. I live for the day when I never leave, when my mind… when my mind can stand against the fear.”

Clay’s hand went to her head and lightly fisted her hair. He turned his nose into her neck. “I live for that day too.”

His hot breath on her neck made her long for that warmth on her breasts, her stomach, and between her thighs. She wanted to feel his love and comfort wash over her, as it did every time they came together.

Breathy, she said, “I’m sorry, I never meant to cause you pain. It’s involuntary, you know, the cowering.”

They were forehead to forehead now. “You don’t cower, Eve, that implies weakness. You’re anything but weak.”

A phone buzzed. It was the burner phone.

Clay reached for it on the nightstand, where he’d dropped it when they arrived.

“It’s Augie. He’s got your sister. She’s safe, but we were right to think Renaud was going to use her to get to you. Looks like he got to her just in time.”

She grabbed his wrists, reading the text message. She tried to take control of the phone, but he wouldn’t let her. “Give it to me. I have to talk to her.”

“You can’t.”

“Give me the phone!”

“No, it’s for your safety. Communication must remain minimal. No one can know who’s at the other end of the line. It’s too risky.”

She was frantic to speak to her sister, hear her voice even. She pleaded, “I have to. Please.” She pulled at his forearm, pinching when he wouldn’t release the phone, but it was no use; he was made of concrete. She scratched at his arms, and he just stared intently into her eyes, the blue in his seeking to soothe her against her will.

“Please, Clay, I have to talk to her.”

His head shook. “No. Augie’s already offline anyway. I guarantee it. We can’t risk it.”

Tears blurred her vision and fell from her eyes. She was so unbelievably frustrated. She had to speak to her sister. What if this was her last chance? What if she never saw her again? She needed to explain why she’d left. “I don’t care about my safety, I just need to talk to Mia.” She was begging and crying and drawing blood with her nails.

When he swapped the phone to his other hand, she jumped on him and the phone fell to the tile floor. The glass front shattered. Clay picked it up and pressed several buttons. He shook his head as he inhaled deeply and clicked his tongue. “It’s broken.”

She crumpled to the floor. Clay followed her down.

“What’s this about? Your sister will be with you soon enough, and you’ll talk to her then. You wouldn’t want to put her rescue at risk to satisfy this selfish urge to talk now, would you?”

Now she was selfish. He reached for her, but she didn’t move into him. He sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry. It kills me to tell you no. I know you’re worried, but Augie will keep your sister safe.”

He picked her up and took her to bed. His grip was strong and implacable, but she wasn’t scared. She felt only comfort. He spooned behind her and held her in his arms as she cried.

“You have no idea how your tears cripple me,” he said.

She pushed back against him, and he wrapped one arm around her, resting his hands on hers.

She felt his erection in the curve of her buttocks, but he held her in a nonsexual, comforting hold. He was right, she
was
being selfish. Growing up apart, she had never been close with Mia, but over the last few years they seemed to understand one another. It was just that she’d left without a trace six months ago, and she knew her sister had been hurt when she’d walked out. Vanished, really. It had been the only way.

Snuggled in Clay’s arms, her eyelids grew heavy, to match her heart, and she closed her eyes.

She woke to the sounds of soft foamy waves washing against the shore and the gulf breeze coming in through the open French doors. She knew instantly that Clay was not in bed or even in the room. The sun was setting, and his absence plucked at the ease sleep had brought her.

As her eyes adjusted to the lamp-lit room, she saw something that hadn’t been there before—a blue dress draped across the rocking chair in the corner. The dress was cocktail length and strapless, with white material over a shimmery blue leaf pattern in lace. There were so many leaves, the dress was more blue than white. There were sandals to match.

Then she saw a wrapped package with a white bow and an attached note.

Eve,

Again, I’m sorry about not letting you speak with your sister. I would give you anything, but not if it compromises your safety. You’ve put your trust in me and I won’t break it for anyone, including you. Please put the dress on when you’re ready and meet me in the kitchen for cocktails at 7:30. We have dinner reservations at 8:30.

P.S. I saw the pendant and thought of your eyes. Depending on your mood they fluctuate from light to metal gray to sometimes steel blue. I thought you might use it as a touchstone—something that grounds you to this new world with me. Anyway, I wanted you to have something you could use as an anchor. This is our reality—you and me together.

I love you,

Clay

Tears drifted from her eyes and onto the note smearing the ink. Sniffing, she opened the box. Inside was a beautiful pearl pendant. At least she thought it looked like pearl. But it was bigger than any pearl she’d ever seen, and the jewel was oval shaped. Her thumb ran across its smoothness, and the color darkened. The setting was arresting, with prongs,
fingers
, that held the pearl safely in place. Aptly there were ten. Ten fingers to hold the jewel safe, just as he held her life safe in his own fingers. The pendant was attached to a long silver chain. The gesture was so appropriate for her that his perception almost frightened her. Clay’s connection with her ran deep. He knew everything about her, and that was freeing. But he kept the door leading to his own demons locked tight. And she knew demons haunted him, just as they did her. She knew they lay behind his fear that he would hurt her during sex. But he would never hurt her. She knew it in every part of her body and soul.

He’d rescued her in many ways—physically, emotionally, mentally. What had she done for him? She wanted to rescue him back.

She dressed and clasped the pendant around her neck. The weight of it comforted her and reminded her of Clay’s protection.

She met him in the kitchen, and the sight of him in a charcoal suit was like catnip. He was sexy and smelled divine. The suit made him seem even larger than he normally did, but she’d come to equate that body of his with pleasure, comfort, safety, and above all, love.

Frank Sinatra played softly through the house system as their eyes met, and Clay grasped her hands in his, pulling her close until they were cheek to cheek and swaying to the music.

“You are simply beautiful.” He kissed her temple. “Love you in this dress. Are you done being mad at me?”

Eve nodded. The steel hardness of his body in contrast with the silk smoothness of his suit had her entranced, as he did so often. She wanted to take a moment to bask in his honesty and strength. He’d said he’d keep her safe at all costs, and she trusted this fireman with her life. Their time together hadn’t been long, but she realized that had she stayed with Nicolas for a lifetime, she’d never have been able to feel safe in his arms the way she did with Clay.

Still swaying, they moved closer until their lips met, and Clay rubbed her earlobe in his fingers while his tongue explored her. He tasted like olives, and she discovered he’d made cocktails and she was smiling because she knew she was in crazy love with the man.

After sharing a drink and a handful of tasty kisses, they walked arm in arm maybe two hundred yards on the small beach, turned a corner, and arrived at what seemed like a beach cabin; only the inside was outfitted with ambiance galore.

Shabby chic decorated every surface. Empty wine bottles, twinkling with tiny lights, lined the walls. The effect was both romantic and fantastical. They were seated at an intimate corner booth. Since it was round, they huddled together, neither wanting to release the other for even a second. She hoped that meant Clay was as affected by her as she was by him.

They sipped wine and slurped oysters. She gazed into his eyes, loving the strength she saw there.

“Clay, I’m sorry about the phone. I trust you with my life. You’ve never given me reason not to.” She took another deep sip of wine, as did he. “I can’t explain how intense my desperation was, knowing Mia was close, yet not being able to reach her. I felt out of control and I hate that.”