Absolution (14 page)

“The chemo,” Emily said.

“Oh.” Bryn’s gaze sought Neveah’s. “Where are you planning to do it?”

“Wherever Emily’s most comfortable. In her 107

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room, the family room or out by the pool. It’s up to you,” she said to her. “We’ll make it work.”

“Thanks.” Though all Emily really cared about was doing it someplace private. She didn’t want anyone watching while that poison pumped through her veins for three hours. Nor did she want anyone to see her if the nausea hit her again this time. The first week after treatment had been the worst, and the second she’d been wiped out. Right now she felt almost normal except for some lingering fatigue.

Shame she had to repeat that cycle a few more times over the next couple of months.

“Want the grand tour?” Bryn asked, and Emily knew she’d said it to change the subject.

“I’d love to see the rest of the place.” She followed her friend while the two cousins trailed behind them. The family room was bright and beautifully furnished with cozy looking leather couches, and it had a spectacular view of the mountains and manicured grounds through the tall windows. “It really is beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is,” Bryn agreed. “My father had good taste.” She led the way through the main floor, pointing out all the amenities and finishing with the study. Pausing in the doorway, she was silent as she stared at the large mahogany desk.

The faint scent of cigars still permeated the air, and from the way Bryn stared at the tufted leather chair behind the paper-strewn desk, Emily knew she was thinking about her father. The room was intensely masculine with its dark leather and woodwork. The bookshelves were full of leather-bound legal volumes, along with several framed pictures of Bryn at various points throughout her life. Sam cast an anxious glance at her. “We put Luke in here so he could work in peace. Is that okay?”

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Emily’s stomach tensed at the same time Bryn said, “Sure. My dad would have liked that, I think.”

She rubbed a comforting hand on Bryn’s back.

Jamul had met Luke back during the Lebanese civil war and they’d maintained contact over the years, but it was damned eerie that Luke was occupying his dead friend’s study. She could picture Luke here, bent over the laptop sitting on the desk or talking on his phone in any number of languages he’d mastered during his career.

“Why don’t we take you downstairs and show you the gym?” Nev offered, obviously trying to give Bryn some time alone.

“I’ll take her,” Bryn insisted, but her eyes were moist as she turned away from the study.

Rather than argue, Emily followed her down the polished hardwood stairs to the lower floor. The gym was state-of-the-art, boasting all the equipment one would expect at a health club, plus a large area of floor covered with a thin sort of mat.

“I imagine Ben and I will go a few rounds while I’m here,” Bryn said with a fond grin. “My dad used this for kickboxing, but it works for martial arts, too.

It’s been way too long since I worked out like that.”

“I’m looking forward to watching that by the way,” Sam told her with a conspiratorial smile. “It’s not every day Ben gets his ego knocked down to size, and usually that’s Rhys’s job.”

“Duty,” Rhys corrected, emerging from the back room. He came up to wind a long arm around Neveah and pull her tight into his body.

Her expression tightened. “Going somewhere?”

He smiled, but the motion of his lips was slight, as though they were unused to it. “Damn, you’re smart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, tilting her head back to look into his face, which said a lot considering how tall she was. Rhys was a giant of a 109

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man. “So? What’s going on?”

“The mother ship called with my orders.”

Luke, he meant. The tension in Emily ratcheted up another few notches. Was something dangerous already happening?

Rhys kissed the top of Nev’s head before releasing her and striding over to a locked cabinet at the end of the gym. “Ben’s going to stay here while I take care of this,” he said, taking out a pistol and what looked like a sniper rifle. Nev’s dark blue eyes fastened on the weapons and she flinched. “Nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “Just some recon.”

“With loaded weapons.”

“Unloaded weapons aren’t much good to me, little one. Be back in a while.” He kissed her gently before he left them standing there in the expanding silence. From the back room a radio crackled, but other than that they were quiet, staring at the doorway Rhys had walked out.

“Well.” Nev folded her arms beneath her breasts as she changed the subject. “Who’s hungry?”

Emily stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” She looked at the others. “None of you do. I know exactly what y’all are going through, so please don’t cover up what you’re feeling for my sake. I’ve been there, trust me.

Many times.”

Nev’s brave facade slipped a notch. “God, how did you do it for as many years as you did?”

Emily swallowed. She owed them the truth so they understood they could come to her for support while she was with them. Being there for them was more important than her pride. “Honestly? I’m still doing it. And unfortunately, it doesn’t get any easier, which is why it’s a good thing we’ve got each other to get through this.”

“That’s right,” Bryn agreed, holding out her arms to gather them up into a circle. They looped 110

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their arms over each others’ shoulders, four women linked by shared fears for the men they loved and their own traumatic experiences. Survivors, all of them. Kindred spirits, and then some.

“Oh, Christ.”

They turned their heads to find Ben standing where his brother had just been.

He shook his dark head in apparent disgust.

“You’re starting with the girl bonding stuff already?

Listen, the only time I want to see a circle of women hugging is if they’re naked or I’m in the middle of it,”

he said, pushing his way into the center of the knot they’d formed. He stood there looking at them expectantly for a moment, and Emily couldn’t help but laugh. She hugged him and then the others joined in. Like the ham he was, Ben sighed in contentment, clearly eating up their attention. He reminded her of Rayne that way.

The first to pull away, Sam shook her head at her fiancé, but her eyes were alight with laughter.

“You’re hopeless.”

“I know, but you love me anyway.” His smile said he wasn’t the least bit repentant, and Emily laughed again.

“How about I wipe that grin off his handsome face for you, Sam?” Bryn offered.

That devilish smile of his widened, showing straight white teeth. “You and what army, sweets?”

“Uh-oh,” Sam said, taking her cue and breaking loose. “Here they go. This should be good.” She grabbed Emily and Nev by the arms. “Come on, let’s get a seat so we can watch the show.”

Ben was already pulling off his shirt, baring the rippling muscles of his torso in a completely unself-conscious display of male power. Sam rolled her eyes. “God, you are such a show-off.”

“Yeah, and you love looking at my pecs,” he replied without missing a beat. He hitched up his 111

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cargo pants as he raised his brows at Bryn in challenge. “Sure you want to do this with an audience? I bet you’re rusty. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your girls.”

Bryn’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Neither would you, mouthpiece.”

Emily snickered, loving the distraction, which was exactly what Ben had intended. He’d managed to lift everyone’s mood in the space of a minute. He was entertainment indeed, and God knew she could use the diversion right now.

She watched with a pang of envy as Bryn went at him, rolling effortlessly when he threw her to the mat, and jumped to her feet. Their movements were fluid and beautiful to watch, almost choreographed.

The satisfied gleam in Bryn’s eyes told Emily how much her friend enjoyed her workout, and though Ben made her work hard, he tempered his strength in consideration. Then Bryn went on the offensive.

Ben laughed in delight as he blocked a rather vicious kick to the kidney.

Emily winced, but Sam yelled out, “Get him, Bryn!”

Fending off another attack, Ben shot a betrayed look at his fiancé. “What?” he demanded in a shocked tone, lunging over to grab Sam. Bryn stood off to the side and smiled, shaking her head at the two of them.

Sam shrieked and hung on as he lifted her over one shoulder and carefully tumbled her onto her back on the mat. He kept her pinned there for just a moment before kissing her soundly on the mouth, then Nev jumped in with a playful shout and grabbed him around the waist from behind. In less than a second, Ben had her on the floor next to her cousin, laughing as he tickled them.

When Emily snickered, Ben turned his head and locked his gaze on her. She held up her hands in 112

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self-defense and opened her mouth to protest but he came at her anyway. She let out a yelp and clutched at his wide shoulders as he hauled her into the air and spun her, his arms controlling her descent when he laid her down beside the other two. By the time her back touched the mat, she was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. She couldn’t remembered the last time she’d had this much fun. It felt wonderful.

“That’s right, ladies,” Ben remarked while they tried to catch their breath. “Don’t mess with the master.” He stood over them and surveyed his handiwork with his hands on his lean hips. “One more to go,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at Bryn.

“I dare you to try,” she taunted, going back into her fighting stance.

Emily and the others scooted out of range while the next round got underway, laughing and cheering Bryn on. For the first time in days, she wasn’t thinking about Luke or her cancer and the upcoming chemo treatments. Right then, she didn’t feel sick at all.

****

The others left to go up to the kitchen with Ben shooting snide remarks about Bryn’s martial arts skill, but Emily stayed behind. Her heart pounded with adrenaline. Watching those two grapple and punch and kick away their frustrations made her want to do the same. The inexplicable urge to hit something rose hard within her. God knew she had an overload of tension and anger to unload. She eyed the heavy bag hanging in the back corner and the pair of boxing gloves lying beneath it. Biting her lip, she took another glance around. She was all alone here, so if she was going to do it, now was the time.

The closer she got to the bag, the more her heart pounded. She’d never hit anything in her life, but she needed to now. She was sick and tired of feeling 113

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like a victim, of having no control over anything. The stockpiled memories played in her mind like a movie on fast-forward, and she let them build. Luke deploying for missions. Losing her mother. Losing her father less than a year later. Inheriting her childhood home. Luke leaving while she grieved for her parents. Raising Rayne without a father. The damned cancer and the operations that had carved her femininity out of her. Being dragged to Beirut.

But the worst of all was a vision of her dying in a lonely hospital bed, terrified and in agony.

No more.

The words echoed in her brain, resonating within the deepest part of her heart. Starting right now, she was taking back control over her life, and her body. The cancer was there and she couldn’t do more about that than she already was, but if she was going down, she was going down fighting. Like a heavyweight champion.

She picked up the thick gloves. The left one went on easily enough, but the right took some maneuvering as she held it between her knees and pushed her hand into it. Her fingers automatically curled into fists as she raised them toward the bag.

No one was around. No one was there to laugh at her poor technique. She could vent all the ugliness inside her. Right now, without being embarrassed or having to explain herself to anyone.

Hit it.

Her breathing came faster as she visualized the way Ben and Bryn had punched, feet spread apart to give them balance, weight thrown forward as they struck. She imagined how it would feel, throwing her fist into the bag.

Hit it.

Hell yes, she would. She gave it an experimental shot with her right glove, testing the way the impact traveled up her arm.

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Hit it!

Face twisting with all the rage and hurt bottled up inside her, Emily let loose on the heavy bag. Her fists slammed into the leather sides, one after the other, the impact jolting right up to her shoulders and neck. But it felt
good
. It felt
right
. Damn near addictive. She might not know what the hell she was doing, but that didn’t matter. Channeling her energy into her fists was exactly what she needed.

Switching her lead foot to get better balance, Emily put her full weight behind the punches. The chain hanging the bag from the hook in the ceiling rattled as she upped the ferocity of her attack, the muscles in her arms and shoulders burning with the effort. She started panting, and a delicious sense of power rushed through her battered body. She was
not
weak, and she was no quitter, no matter what Luke thought. She’d show him, her body, and everyone else what she was made of. Just frigging watch her. Goose bumps broke out over her skin.

The bag jerked as she threw her fists at it, angry growls ripping from her throat. When that wasn’t enough she got her knees into it, ramming into the leather until her legs quivered with fatigue. Sweat beaded on her face and between her breasts, but she kept going, loving the sense of freedom. When she was gasping for breath and her arms were too weak to put any force behind the punches, she stopped and staggered back to put her gloved hands on her knees.

But the room began to spin.

Oh damn...
Emily shook her head to clear it, but it didn’t help. If anything, the movement made the disorientation worse. Her breaths turned raspy and shallow. Oh, shit, she wasn’t going to pass out, was she? In the middle of the floor after her first try at boxing, where anyone could stumble upon her?