Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(29)

“We already are a family.”

“Then let’s make it official. Planning a wedding will keep you busy and out of trouble while I’m gone.”

Smiling, she said, “You don’t think taking care of a two-year-old will keep me busy enough?”

“Marry me, Christina.” Kissing her again, he poured his heart and soul into showing her how much he loved her. He could only hope that, over time, he could make up for being absent from their life for so long. “I promise I’ll never again take you or what we have for granted.”

“Yes, you will. And I will too.”

He entered her slowly, giving her time to accommodate him. “I won’t take you for granted. I mean it when I tell you I want to be better for you and Alex.”

She ran her hands down his back to cup his ass and gave a gentle tug to bring him deeper into her body.

“Love you so much.” He touched his lips to hers. “You’ll never know how much. I want you to be my wife. I want my ring on your finger and you right here with me, where you belong forever.”

Tears leaked from her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Please don’t say no. Please don’t. He wasn’t sure he could handle that on top of everything else.

“For once in a very long while, nothing is wrong.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because I’m happy. I’ve missed my Tommy so much.”

He couldn’t contain his own tears as he made love to her. His tears mixed with hers as he experienced genuine joy for the first time since his partner’s murder. The feeling gave him hope, something that had been in short supply over the last nine months. He tried to last, but it had been so long that his control was sorely lacking.

And when she cried out in pleasure, he let himself go with her, clinging to her, his life raft in the storm. He was wise enough, after what he’d been through, to know the storm was far from over, but he had a new reason to believe that they might emerge on the other side stronger for the struggle.

“You never answered my question.” His comment followed a long period of contented silence. “Are you going to marry me?”

“Yes, Tommy. I’m going to marry you.”

He had five more weeks of rehab to get through before they could get on with their lives, but she’d given him something to look forward to, something that would sustain him as he worked to put his life—and hers—back together.



* * *



THE DRUMS OF hell beating in her brain woke Sam the next morning. She was afraid to so much as breathe out of fear of her head exploding. Since breathing was necessary, she took a tentative breath and winced.

“It was such a good idea at the time,” Nick muttered from his post, facedown next to her. “Right?”

“Mmm.” She winced again. Her mouth tasted like dog shit, and her eyes were gritty. And she needed to get Scotty up, see to the twins and get her ass to work.

“Take one more day, Samantha. No one expects you to show up today.”

She was sorely tempted, but then she thought about the wooden box and her determination to find the person who had put her father in that box. If he could bear what he’d been through for four agonizing years, surely she could get through a day at work hungover. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Could I have that in writing?”

Sam grunted in reply because that was less painful than forming words. She dragged herself out of bed and made a beeline for the bathroom to brush her teeth before taking a shower. As she stood under the pounding hot water, she began to feel slightly human again.

Nick stepped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips landing on her shoulder. “Take another day, babe.”

“I really can’t. I was out all last week on suspension, and we’ve got shit to do. I need to get back to normal.” Nothing in her life had been “normal” since the day she’d arrived at the scene of Alden and Aubrey’s nightmare. Between taking them in, seeing to their needs, solving their parents’ murders, agreeing to be their long-term guardians, Nick’s trip and her father’s death, Sam hadn’t had one normal minute in ten days.

She craved normal, and she needed to dig into her father’s case with fresh leads and a new resolve to finally get the answers that had eluded her for so long.

He held her tight against him. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay.”

“You haven’t cried yet.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“So what? Do you think that means I’m not sad enough about my father’s death? Because let me assure you—”

He turned her to face him and rested his index finger over her lips. “That’s not at all what I think. I know better than just about anyone how very sad you are.”

“I choose to expend my sadness and anger productively rather than rolling into a ball and sobbing.”

He gave her a good long look. “Fair enough.”

“I need to do this my way, even if it’s not what you or other people would do. And I need you to let me.”

“Whatever you need, babe. That’s what I want you to have.”

“Then let me go to work, and don’t spend all day worrying about me.”