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“Kyle, so many times have I heard the lament of a lady—prayers from the wanting, cursing the unwanted. Women are responsible for bringing life into the world. I’ve often thought it a tough row to sow.” He made no move to get up.

Kyle focused on one of the stained glass windows. Each piece of glass held the sun like a lover. “I just want my body to do what it was built for. I don’t know why that’s too much to ask.”

Father Callahan let the silence sit in their laps like a cat for a while before he disturbed it. “You know, God asks too much from us. Really, He does. All these trials, tribulations, He knows it won’t be easy. I’ve often heard before ‘God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.’” The old priest snorted. “He does, Kyle. At least more than any of us wants to handle. You will face pain—that’s a given. Do any of us need it? I don’t think so…But maybe it’s just the age talking.”

She had stolen this church’s future, their lifeblood, in the young Cole. She had no right to seek solace in this building. She looked at the tall, vaulted ceiling. She wondered if hopes rose like hot hair.
Were there millions of wishes and prayers bouncing around up there, trapped like balloons?

“I want a baby so bad, Father. I feel like that’s all there is. It’s eating me. I can’t…” She started tapping her feet, unfulfilled, unsatisfied.

“Sweet girl, I don’t have answers, but I do sympathize. Here’s what I’ve learned, and only time can teach this lesson: sometimes the hard times are preparing you to handle the next important thing. Pray, my child. Hold on to the love you
do
have.” Father Callahan patted her hand. “Look for a sign. He will tell you what might be on the horizon. Keep your heart open.”

The priest stood. Kyle followed suit. She didn’t feel better. She knew nothing but a positive pregnancy test would silence her need. But a sign was something maybe she could hold on to. Father Callahan opened his arms for another hug, and this time Kyle was surprised at how slight he felt.

“Another thing, young lady, don’t push Cole away. It’s these times when you have to respect your vows the most.”

Kyle thanked him and turned to leave. She passed the spot where Cole had knelt before her so long ago. He would take anything she doled out to him, whips or feathers. Suddenly she wanted to be in his arms, listening to his heartbeat. She opened the door knowing she had to let him hold this burden with her. Together.

The drive back home seemed endless, but when she finally arrived the house was still waiting, perfect and exactly as she’d left it. She kicked off her shoes and headed up to the bedroom, where she found a letter propped on her pillow. Only one mailman had access to this room. She left her jacket on as she tore the envelope away, ripping and pulling until the letter was revealed.

It took a while to get through it because her eyes kept blurring. She sobbed out loud a few times, crumpling the edge of her jacket in a tight fist.

Dear Kyle,

I see you crying when you don’t think I notice. I do. I see your eyes—red and glassy with the tears you swallowed because I came in the room.

I can’t give you the baby we want. Our love should be enough, but I feel it too. There’s a hole in between us when we hold hands. We’re feeling the loss of someone who has yet to even exist. Your smiles are getting smaller. When you look at me, I want to give you more, I just don’t know how.

I remember when I first found your eyes, when I first realized you existed. I could hardly make my tongue work. My words were fuzzy, wrapped in cotton. When you were taken from me, I had so much rage. I would have killed a million men to get to you, just to rest my hands on your face. Kissing your lips, remembering you safe in that hospital bed is a waterfall of relief for me still. And our wedding? Everything blue makes me want to touch you, taste your lips, see your skin wet in the shower.

How can something that isn’t happening come between us? When you’re reluctant to walk past a stroller, when you change the channel to save your heart the sight of a chubby baby, I know you’re aching. You’re building a wall, and only you fit behind it. How can I show you I love you so much anyway? Will you ever understand that you’re just as important as a woman who can have a child? I’ll make love to you whenever you demand it. I’ll hold you tightly when you cry.

If it’s just us, Kyle, if that’s all there is, it’s enough for me. And if that thought makes you sad, I’ll move heaven and hell until you see a future you want to be in, smiling, with me. Whatever you need, just step into my arms, let me be there with you.

You’re not protecting me from your pain. I feel all of it, except I feel it alone when you won’t let me help. Come to me. Let me kiss your hair. Let me make love to you for no reason at all.

I’m yours forever,

Cole

He got it. There was no need to describe it to him. He knew when she cried. He knew what she wanted. He loved her always.

Kyle dug her cell phone out of her pocket, hitting the send button twice, the shortcut for the last call dialed. She could trust that his name and picture would pop up on her screen.

He answered his phone: “Baby, I love you.” Not
Hello?
Not
What’s up?
He got her.

“Please, Cole. Please.” She bit her fist, unable to tell him she needed his weight on top of her to hold her steady, to keep her from floating away.

“I’m coming home. Keep the phone by your ear.”

She heard the rustling noises of Cole rearranging his schedule, talking softly to his colleagues so he could attend to her needs. Every few minutes he would check, “You still with me?”

She answered from her forever. “Always.”

His car started, and she listened as he turned off his radio. The engine grew louder or softer depending on where he was in traffic. All the way he kept the line open, finally appearing in their bedroom door, handsome and worried.

He still had the phone to his ear. “I’m here.”

She wrinkled her nose and said, “Thank you,” into her phone. They ended the call at the same moment. And like all hell breaking loose, her words flew at him.

“What if it’s because I’m a whore? What if it’s because I used up all the good I ever had? What if I wasted it all on bastards for a quick high? What if I broke everything? You shouldn’t have to have me. This. I can’t even make a baby for you.”

Cole was in front of her in two quick steps. He knelt before her, holding the tops of her arms. “No one calls you a whore. Not even you.
Ever
. You got that?”

She nodded, the motion causing tears to trail down her cheeks. He released her arms to wipe her face dry.

“I’m wasted. I’m wasted, Cole.” She began choking on his name as she slid from the bed. Kyle balled herself on the floor, sobbing. It was primal, guttural, and pure desperation. She felt him cover her with his body, like he was protecting her from gunfire. They stayed until her anguish subsided into gentle whimpering. Then he gathered her body in his arms, his own face wet and red.

“If I could fix this, I’d do anything, Kyle. I’d do anything.”

6

Shark

E
VE
C
OULD
S
EE
N
EW
Y
ORK
C
ITY
past her reflection. There was a love song on the radio, and she could almost hear it without thinking about him. Beckett had been gone for five years.
He’s dead
. She looked down at her shoes. The patent leather heels showed her what she looked like in their smooth surface. That’s what she was now—just an image of her real self. People could see what she looked like, but no one knew who she was. Waiting for him was over. It had to be. She fussed with her low ponytail, and her office door opened.

“January, the fiscal results are in. You wanted them?” Eve nodded toward her desk but didn’t acknowledge her coworker. This import-export company was huge. Even when you’d climbed the corporate ladder as fast as she had, you were still one of thousands of employees. It was a great place to hide.

She picked up the file after he’d left, but didn’t have the energy to compare the figures. It was crazy how similar the work she’d done for Beckett was to the work she now did for Silver Force Systems. She had to make sure products got delivered and people paid their bills—although she hadn’t killed anyone in years.

Eve turned off her computer and locked up her files. She slipped on her trench coat and left the plush office without a backward glance. Normally she took the elevator down to street level and walked to her apartment building, but today she hailed a cab to a different destination.

When she was feeling particularly numb, she would train. More specifically, she would train others. Through her remaining connections, she knew a few people looking to hone their deadly skills. She slipped cash to the cabbie and got out in front of a warehouse. After punching in the code, she entered a space dedicated to the fighting techniques that kept evil people alive and rich.

A quick change in the makeshift locker room and Eve was ready. It was quiet tonight—she had to slap lights on as she went. She stretched and went to the knife-throwing area. The blades were already sharp, and they were gorgeously weighted. One after another she landed her mark: the dead center of the outline’s chest.

She sensed him before she heard him, felt his breath on her neck.

“Nice shot.”

“Sneaking up on me is a quick way to die.” She ignored him and retrieved her knives. When she turned, she was armed to the teeth. But he held a hand grenade. If they’d been playing poker with weapons, he won.

“That’s not what everyone thinks, apparently.” His gaze traveled over her.

He was stupidly good-looking—so much so that most women would miss the sharkish look to his eyes. Eve knew his face and ran through her memories to figure out who he worked for. She couldn’t even pull up a name.

She put the knives back on their platform. “Why are you here? I don’t have the energy for puzzles and riddles.” She picked up a jump rope and began her cardio workout.

“I’m here to exercise, baby. Just like you.” He tossed the grenade in the air, pin still in. She didn’t look his way.

After three sets of thirty, he was still watching, waiting. She narrowed her eyes. “What?” She tossed the rope and made her way to the punching bag.

“Just watching the view.” He bit his full lip. He’d perfected the five o’clock shadow, as well as the placement of tattoos to highlight his muscles.

Punching and kicking, she did her best to ignore him. Finally getting up a decent sweat, she switched again to the treadmill. The pounding of her feet and the sound of the machine were all she could hear.

Still he waited. She could tell he was trying to unnerve her. It didn’t work, or at least she’d never let him see it. The minute she flinched or showed human emotions, it would be over. After her run, he remained, tossing his hand grenade from hand to hand like a tennis ball.

She walked into the locker room. It was really just a place in the center of the warehouse with plumbing, divided by what looked like a long series of bathroom-stall doors. He followed her—obviously daring her to change in front of him or leave in her sweaty gear. Eve didn’t hesitate as she pulled off her clothes and started the shower. His gaze crawled over her body. She forced a shiver from her spine. She took her shower, taking time to shave her legs and condition her hair. She could tell he was still in the room.

She dressed in jeans and sweatshirt and pulled her wet hair in to a ponytail. He was right behind her, looking in the mirror with her.

“That was quite a show. Thanks. I bet Beckett loved getting that all the time.” He smirked.

She thought about Beckett constantly, but she knew she’d closed her eyes at the unexpected mention of his name. She spun, and her brush clattered to the ground. She snagged his grenade mid-toss from one hand to the other. Holding his pants open, she pushed it inside and slipped her pinkie under the pin.

“Speak. Tell me what you’re doing here.” She finally met his oily eyes, and in that instant his name came to her: Shark. It should have been so obvious.

He rotated his hips, and she felt his penis pressing against her hand and the weapon.

“Well, now there’s two explosive things in my pants. Feel free to get creative.” He smiled.

“You’re wasting my time.” She pulled her hand out and tossed the grenade, pin still in place, back to him. He caught it, but fumbled a bit. She felt better since they’d both made mistakes now. She’d feel spectacular if she could remember who he worked for. Instead she grabbed her bag from her locker and walked past him.

Before she could get to the main door, he caught her arm. She faced him, nearly nose to nose.

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m here to help you?” He was perfect, even up close. And he smelled amazing.

“No. Because you’re not.” She wrenched her arm free just as two more “patrons” entered. Neither of the burly men seemed inclined to get involved in Eve and Shark’s tense situation.