Break My Heart (The Heart Series Book 2) (26 page)

Instantly, Christina responds with an equally eager and open smile, like they both discovered they speak the same language. Before I can excuse myself to jump in the shower, Chris orders me out of the hall bathroom, closing the door behind her.

I just introduced Christina Reyes to William Shaw, and they seem to hit it off. I don’t know if I should be glad or scared.

قلب

By the time I exit my bedroom, having showered and changed, laughter and chuckles are echoing down my hallway from the kitchen area. Chris has the broom, and Will is gathering the remaining pieces of coffee table to dispose of them.

“There you are!” Chris greets me loudly. Too loud.

Will looks my way, assessing me up and down. His left eye is sporting butterfly bandages, his wounds cleaned and mended.

I eye both of them suspiciously.

“What?” Chris’s innocence doesn’t fool me. These two are too chummy, too quickly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs. “We’re cleaning. Looks like a tornado hit in here.”

“You don’t have to do that. Tommy is supposed to clean that along with this one.” I motion toward Will who’s replacing the couch cushions.

“Can we talk?” Christina shoots my way, but before I can answer, she glances at Will.

“I’ll take the broken pieces downstairs.” I’m about to point the way, but he continues, “Christina told me where the trash depository is.”

“Thanks Will,” Christina says with a smile.

Will tips his head, eyes me warily, and lumbers out.

The second the door shuts, Chris’s cheerful disposition disappears and the inquisition begins.

“What the hell is going on, Ileana? Who is this guy,
really
?”

Not her, too. I can’t do this.

“He’s a friend okay? That should be enough.” That sounds like the truth. “He needs a place to stay, so I offered.”

She doesn’t back down. She stares up in challenge, her small balled up in fists resting on her curvy frame.

“That’s not all of it, Ileana, something is off with him,” her accusatory voice hisses.

My curiosity is piqued. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t play coy. First of all, I’ve known you for a long time, and I don’t remember you having ‘friends’ staying over,” she states, complete with air quotations. “Especially the male kind. Second of all, you
physically
ran into him? Because need I remind you, you both ended up in the hospital.”
Shit
. “And thirdly, he wanted your tools.”

“He wanted my what?”

“Tools, missy! First, he asks where your toolshed was to,” she waves her hands in the air, “get a hammer and nails to put the coffee table back together.” Her are eyes wide in disbelief. “Then, when I tell him you don’t have any nails or a toolshed or whatever, he wants to know where he could
burn
the wood! Who is this guy?” She taps her temples at the question with both hands, her brown eyes wide and frantic. “And the way the talks, Ileana, really, who talks like that?” Before I can utter a syllable, she’s way ahead of me. “And don’t you dare tell me he’s from the Army days or something, because Brad told me Tommy didn’t know who he was. So….” She squares her shoulders, hands back on her hips. “Who is he?”

I’m tired, defeated, and utterly at the mercy of this giant machine called life, spinning me, throwing me, bouncing me from end to end while I’m beaten down to a pulp.

“He’s a friend, and he needs my help. Please, that’s all I can tell you for now.”

A big sigh leaves Chris, her small hand rubbing her forehead. “Fine. But he can’t stay here, Tommy is going to kill him.”

“I know.” We both sigh and lean against the kitchen counter.

“He’s good people, isn’t he?” Chris’s calm voice is back. The healer is in charge.

“Of course he is. Why else would I vouch for him?”

“I’d take him, but no way with Brad —”

“That’s okay, I’ll figure something out.” Will should have been back already. “Shit.”

“What?”

I’m already heading for the door, Chris hot on my heels. Outside in the hall, Mrs. N. is chatting Will up by her door. She’s got her brittle hand wrapped around Will’s forearm like a vise, while Will walks her toward the elevator.

“What’s going on?” I ask, harsher than I intended.

They both turn to me with matching smiles. “Sweetheart,” Mrs. N. greets cheerfully, “I just met your friend William. He’s going to help me fix up the apartment upstairs.”

What?
“Mrs. N., what are you doing?” I block their path to the elevator.

“This nice young man and I got to talking, and what’d you know? He’s looking for a place to stay for a few days, and I have a vacant apartment upstairs, so there you go.” Her little shoulders shrug and she giggles, craning her neck to look up at Will, who seems twice her size and flashes one dimple in return.

“Mrs. N., that’s awful nice of you but the board —”

“Forget the board. You worry so much you’re going to give yourself wrinkles,” she chastises me, complete with glaring over her eyeglasses. “He can stay in the upstairs apartment, maybe fix a few things. Did you know he’s a carpenter and knows plumbing?”

“Why not? He’s harmless right?” Chris mumbles next to me, smiling at Mrs. N.

I can’t believe I’m considering this.

“Besides, he’s a looker. I’m thinking Clark Gable.” Mrs. N. pats Will’s solid forearm, enticing a huge smile that brings out all of his dimples. And now it’s a dimple threesome. Great.

“Really? I was thinking more
Superman
,” Chris adds, examining Will from head to toe.

“He looks nothing like George Reeves! That poor fellow….”

“I don’t know who that is,” Chris counters. “I meant the guy in the
Superman
movie that came out last year—”

“Enough.” I put a stop to the debate. “Fine. He can stay upstairs, for now.”

Will’s lip quirks up knowingly. He broke out the charm and it worked. I guess there are advantages of being the only male in a house full of women.

In the meantime, Chris is right. He can’t stay at my place. I glance at Will. I’ll have to discuss the details with Mrs. N. later.

Will shoots me a placating look. “It’s all right, Ileana. I’ll earn my keep. Don’t you worry.”

A huge sigh escapes me. I have to admit, this is not ideal, but Will won’t be too far, giving me time to figure things out.

“All right. Thanks, Mrs. N.” I reluctantly move out of the way, and they resume their progress boarding the elevator.

“I’m coming with you guys, wait up!” Chris follows after them. I didn’t even see her go back for the clothes she brought in. The woman is definitely a pint-size tornado.

“Hey,” I call after her, and she twirls my way.

“What?”

I didn’t forget. No way would I forget. “You don’t get off that easy.” 

“You have your hands full.” She shrugs innocently at my cluster of a situation.

“So, what’s new.” I shrug. “Well? What’s the word?”

Her entire face lights up and she glows. It’s official: Chris is going to have a baby. Her life force is contagious and my heart sings for her.

I can’t control my grin. “Congratulations, Mrs. Nelson. Does Special Agent Nelson know?”

“Thank you, milady.” She bows in jest. “And not yet, so shush. I’m surprising him on the Fourth of July. I have this whole thing planned.” Waggling her eyebrows, she skips to the elevators where Will holds the door open for her.

Seeing these three together, the people aside from Tommy that reside in that soft spot inside my heart, feels right.

“Good luck to you! Ileana, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do!’” Chris mocks with her Desi Arnaz impression from
I Love Lucy
as the elevators close.

But Chris is right. It’s time to face the music.

Better get ready for Tommy.

CHAPTER 23

Tommy

I make up some excuse and avoid Victoria for the rest of the day. I hit the gym, spending hours on one of the most grueling workouts I’ve done in a while, and that didn’t even take the edge off. After that, I went to the gun range and dropped a good amount of ammo without so much as a hint of relief. Finally, around six o’clock, I drove back to my apartment. All in a bullshit attempt to snuff out my raging fury at Harper.

Harper
.

I haven’t called her that in ages. She’s that person again. The one making decisions without consulting with me. The one taking charge without explanation, just like our Army days. But we’re not colleagues anymore.

Now we’re an
Us
.

She and I, and the fact that she’s making decisions that affect
us
without so much as a word to me, drives me to the point of no return. But that’s not the worst part.

He is. The so-called Will.

That smug son of a bitch. He shows up out of nowhere, and she takes him home? What the ever-loving fuck is going on in that head of hers?

That bastard’s words are like an oozing, raging infection in a wide-open wound.

W
hen I’m done here, your Lily won’t even remember your name.

I fought long and hard for her. I’ll be damned if some nobody is going to show up on her doorstep and steal her away from me.

I strip naked and walk straight into the shower.

I brace my hands against the wall, letting my head drop forward. The pounding water hits my neck and back as I watch all the ugliness, the murderous thoughts, the need to kill to protect what is mine, disappear down the drain.

I scrub away the vile film clogging my pores, blocking my breathing, embedded so deep within me that I can’t smell her anymore. All I smell is
that
guy, the other Tommy I’m pretending to be with Victoria. The lies choke me until I’m drowning.

Without Lil, I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t be.

She’s my lifeline. My anchor. My connection to the world.

I shouldn’t be worried but I am. I trust her, don’t I?
He helped me come home, to you.

Those months she was gone, she was being wooed. He was there for her when I wasn’t. He succeeded where I failed her. That means what I’ve feared the most.

He knows her better than me.

The single thought that there’s another man out there that knows Lil in a way that I don’t drives me to madness. I want to destroy, maim, fight, kill. I need to hear it from her lips. Whatever it is, I have to hear her say it with my own ears. Not from anyone else.

The water runs cold over my body, which means I’ve lost all sense of time and I’m out of hot water because I was delaying the inevitable: I have to go back to see her.

Still dripping from the shower, I grab my dirty clothes and that’s when I feel the vibration. Looking through my pockets, I find my cell. Not my disposable. One peek at the screen and my heart accelerates.

Lil:
He’s gone. Please come home.

She wants me to come home.
Home
.

I start to type a message but I stop. What do I say?

I drop the phone on my bed and rush to the closet, grabbing some clean boxer shorts on the way. After pulling up my jeans, I rummage through my closet, throwing on a pale blue t-shirt that’s seen better days, and then go back to the bathroom. Running my fingers through my hair, I try to make myself look presentable. I haven’t shaved in two days. Now is not the time. I’m so fucking nervous I’ll probably slit my own throat with a disposable blade. I grab some aftershave and splash it on my face and neck, the alcohol stinging my neck scratches and raw knuckles. Good thing I didn’t break any fingers.

Some hair gel won’t hurt. I work it around with my fingers and style my hair, again. Jesus, I’m like a teenager getting ready for his first date. I switch into a newer t-shirt and tuck it into my jeans, complete with a belt, then slide on my leather Vans. Hell, I even grab my watch with the thick leather strap.

Maybe I should brush my teeth again.

Once I’m done procrastinating, I decide to respond to her text.

On my way. See u around 7pm.

I hit send. And wait. Nothing.

I’m terrified of what she’ll say. Maybe now that he’s here she doesn’t need me anymore. Thoughts of them together while she was missing —

I’m about to throw the phone out the window when I spot the bubble. She’s typing. I stare at the phone, holding it with both hands like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

I’ll be waiting.

I sigh in relief. I have to trust Lil. I have to trust in what we have together.

Good. This is good. Right? Shit! Why am I so fucking nervous? No point in delaying the inevitable, I grab my gear, jacket, and keys, closing the door behind me.

قلب

“Where is he?”

The question is out of my mouth but it’s too late to take it back. Instead, I widen my stance and brace myself, resting my hands on my hips.

“He’s not here. Please have a seat.” She motions to one of the kitchen chairs coolly.

“I’d rather stand,” I reply flatly, trying to keep my temper from getting the best of me. I’ve done enough damage for one day.

She straightens her spine then grabs the back of a chair. “Fine.”

Once in the parking lot, I sat in my car another fifteen minutes just to calm myself down, not knowing what to expect when I walked in the door.

What I find is someone I really didn’t want to deal with, but expected: Agent Harper.

By this time, Lil is usually in nothing but a tee, or a tank top and some PJ bottoms, her hair loose. But the woman in front of me is fully dressed for battle; even her hair is up in a ponytail. The only thing missing from her outfit is a gun on her hip and her badge.

Agent Harper is professional, aloof, unbreakable. But I’m ready. She’s acting like my fucking boss calling me to her office, but I’m not having it. She better buckle up.

I cross my arms in defiance and her expression changes. I recognize that look. The iron curtains are up. She’s hunkering down.

“Here’s the deal.” She pauses, her face impassive. “There’s a situation, but I’m handling it. It’s not ideal. I can’t give you specifics. I just need you to trust me and let it play out.”