Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(23)

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s someone so beautiful and vulnerable looking like she just took an invisible sucker punch. I can’t let her suffer alone. Can’t waste time.

Once upon a time, Cornaro’s bastards taught me that lesson, and its poison runs deep in my heart.





*



I can’t take this shit, Val with her big, sad puppy dog eyes.

So finally I bolt forward, knowing she won’t slam the door in my face, folding my arms around her so hard she lifts up against me. “You have to stop trying so hard. It’s not good for you.”

She wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my shirt. “I know, but it’s hard. The not knowing. It feels like I’ve lost something precious, and I have to keep looking until I find it.”

I nod, rocking her back and forth, rubbing her back. She’s so fragile in my arms, like I’m the only thing holding her together right now.

A deep, quiet anger flares in my gut at the thought of someone trying to kill her—especially her own fucking brother. What could twist a man to murder his own flesh and blood? It’s not like Ray Gerard hasn’t grown up with money, riches beyond the Average Joe’s wildest dreams.

It doesn’t make sense.

But it does piss me off. At the same time, I think back to what Cash said. How her mind doesn’t want her remembering the hell she’s been through. And apparently, that extends to her entire family being part of that hell.

“Is...is our last name Gerard?” she asks, lifting her head. “That’s what made me so dizzy outside. I stood up, and all of a sudden, I knew my full name was Valerie Gerard.”

Fuck. If I hoped someone would cut me a break from loaded questions, it’s not gonna be today.

Her voice is barely a whisper. My body goes stock-still. She’s staring up at me with this pleading look, gouging out my soul.

No. I can’t lie to her again.

“Our last name’s Calum,” I say, trying to manage a small smile for her, cupping her cheek softly like a good husband should. It’s all too easy when her face fits nice and snug, almost like it was made for my hand.

Her eyes narrow, trying to process Calum as her last name.

My gut churns.

I’ve stood eyeball to eyeball with armed men who were nothing shy of monsters without a trace of fear, yet that’s what hits now. This nervous, stinging worry. For her.

“Calum?” she says. “Not Gerard?”

“Gerard’s your maiden name.” I let the truth slip. I’m worried even that info-crumb may not give her any piece of mind, so I keep one arm around her. “You sure you’re steady on your feet again?”

“Yeah. Nothing’s spinning anymore. I napped forever, too.”

“Then let’s go,” I say, tugging at her hand.

“Go? Where?” She stumbles after me, but I’m careful not to let her fall.

“For a drive.”

“Drive?”

“Yeah, babe. Me, you, truck. My hands behind the wheel, you letting the ocean breeze blow through your pretty hair, maybe we even smile. It’s called breaking up the monotony. We can gawk at tourists and grab some lunch off a shrimp truck.”

I’m not just following Cash’s advice for her.

I need to do something to get our minds off dark shit.

So I lead her down the hall, trying to sound nonchalant. “Why not? You said you’re feeling better?”

“Oh, I am. I’m just surprised but...let’s make a day of it. Sure.”

I shrug. “I can learn a few new tricks. It’s not doing us any good to keep you under lock and key.”

The way she grins and nods hits me hard. She’s just bright, sunny, and beautiful.

Hell, there isn’t even anything overtly sexual about the gesture, yet, just like this morning, when she said she needed a shower and I stupidly asked if she needed any help, my body responds like that’s all it wants. Forbidden sex with Valerie Gerard.

Like hell.

I don’t need more complications with this job. That’s what it is. A chore, even if it has its moments where the lies just roll off my tongue.

Same way it was with the Cornaro Outfit last time, the slippery fucks. Big Joel C himself might even be behind this.

I can’t stop thinking about it.

He probably demanded her brother slaughter her. Cornaro’s known for wanting full control, total obedience from his minions. He’s an angry, jealous little would-be god, demanding nothing comes before him, and getting it thanks to the consequences for people who don’t listen.

Maybe he wants the entire company, full control over all their cargo routes. A legitimate business to transport his shit under cover of fresh fish.

“Wait.” Val freezes suddenly.

A shiver pricks at my spine, wondering if she’s remembered something new. I look at her.

“I don’t have any shoes on.” She smiles, fluttering her eyelids sheepishly.

We’re in the kitchen, near the garage door. I open it. “Go ahead and get in the truck. I’ll go dig up your shoes.”

Thankful Cash kept the shopping bags he’d brought over for her organized, I jog back to the bedroom, collect the brown Pali sandals he’d included out of the closet, and return to the garage.