In Love and Rescue: When love is the perfect rescue... Page 8

  But Larke had been different. He’d been drawn to her intelligence and hidden strength. The sound of her lively laughter and the curve of her lips when she smiled commanded his attention, and the slow, alluring way she blinked when looking at him had virtually hypnotized him. Eventually, he found that the more he’d learned, the more he wanted to know and unfortunately, the more he tried to push her away, the more his next action was to immediately pull her back even closer.

  Dammit.

  “Are you okay over there, man?” Doug asked, swiveling around to face him. “Getting a little bit woozy? Need some Dramamine? Lost your edge?”

  Desmond playfully scoffed. “Lost my edge? You’re the one who’s out here living on a two-dollar dingy.”

  Doug leaned back in the chair, folded his arms, and stretched long legs that almost covered the space between the two of them.

  “Hey, I love it in here,” he defended. “My days consist of spending time on this boat doing what I love to do, then going home to my lovely wife and daughter. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

  Desmond half-smiled. “How long have you and Alisha been married now? Seven years?”

  “Eight. We’ve passed the seven year itch and it looks like she’s willing to put up with me for the long haul. And Tandi, she gets more beautiful every day. She looks just like her mother. I can’t believe that she’s getting ready for kindergarten already. I can still remember what it felt like when I held her for the first time. Those two are my life. That’s why I don’t understand how you’re holding up so well, brother.”

  Desmond knew the topic would come up sooner or later, but he’d been desperately hoping for later.

  “I’m managing,” he replied.

  “But she doesn’t remember you.”

  “She doesn’t remember a lot.”

  “But you?” Doug pointed at his friend. “You two were married for two years and she didn’t even recognize your face when she saw you on the beach. That can’t feel good.”

  Desmond ran his hand over his face again. He’d been trying to bury that moment, the first night they’d landed in Jamaica. After not hearing from Larke for over a year, she’d called him out of the blue to tell him that she’d felt like someone was outside her bedroom window.

  After breaking several speeding limits racing to her house, he’d found her unconscious and on the floor with two men standing over her. He’d then snapped, and the surge of anger that flooded his veins turned the men into waste in record time. On her laptop, he’d found her in the middle of making flight arrangements out of the country and from the systematic way they’d ransacked her place, he’d immediately known that she’d been deliberately targeted. He’d then contacted Doug to finish making the arrangements for the flight.

  When they arrived at the resort, he’d left her in the suite to handle a few details with the concierge. She’d woken up within that short span of time and as he’d made his way back across the beach to their room, he spotted her looking out onto the water. When he was only a few feet in front of her, she’d turned to him and smiled. He smiled back, but it quickly faded when she greeted him with a, “Lovely night, isn’t it sir?”

  Caught off guard, Desmond found himself donning an accent that he hadn’t religiously used in nearly twenty years, and presenting himself as Michael Pearce, knowing that it was dangerous to plant a false memory because she might never recover the real one. The one that included him. But, at that point, he hadn’t known what else to do. If he’d told her about the break-in, he would have risked having her relive the trauma and suffering a breakdown right there on the beach.

  As they’d continued to talk, he realized that she’d actually remembered the details of the Jarvis trial. She’d remembered nearly everything up until the point the men had entered her home. Her memory had preserved the existence of Eddie Jarvis, but not the man she’d spent two years married to, and one year separated from. Just like that, their entire relationship had been wiped out. Ironically, he’d spent the last year wishing that he could erase what he’d done to her so that they could start over and he could try to be the husband she’d needed him to be, but fate had been cruel. It had chosen to remove him from her life completely.

  “The brain is a funny thing,” Desmond attempted to explain.

  “But just like that,” Doug snapped his fingers, “you’re gone. And she might never recover that section of her memory. We’ve rewritten minds more times than I can count, so you know what’s possible. It doesn’t bother you that you might be gone forever?”

  With each word, Desmond felt as though a blade was being sharpened against one of his ribs. “I can’t do anything about it, Doug. Right now, I’m focused on getting her home. Back to her family.”

  Doug grabbed a beer from the mini fridge, popped the top, and took a large swig. “And what happens when they see you two together and ask her about it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you just tell her?”

  “Doug,” Desmond glanced quickly at the cabin doors, “let’s move on. I don’t want to think about that right now. I’m trying to focus on the future and making sure that she has one.”

  Doug went silent for a few moments. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you still love her?”

  “Am I breathing?”

  He took another swig. “So what happened? Why the separation?”

  Desmond groaned. “You said one more thing. That was your thing. Where are we with getting to St. Thomas?”

  Backing down, Doug turned to the computer monitor. “We’ll dock at a port in Haiti, then Huang’s coming in with the chopper to transport you guys over.”

  “Can he get us all the way there?”

  “And then some.”

  They both turned towards a noise towards the captain’s quarters and found Larke standing there, staring at them. Desmond held his breath, hoping that she hadn’t heard the conversation between him and Doug only to realize that his deception ran deeper than Cory and the “Babylon Roots.”

  “How long is it before we get there?” She asked, walking over and taking a seat in the sofa.

  “Not too long now,” Doug answered.

  “And we’ll get our orders when we get there? Isn’t that how you military guys talk?”

  The two men laughed.

  “I guess you could say that,” Doug replied. Draining the contents of his beer, he shot it into a wastebasket in the corner and rose. “Speaking of which, I need to go finalize that information. If you two will excuse me.”

  He shot Desmond a sympathetic look before leaving the two alone.

  With the way he felt about his wife, Doug knew the fact that Larke hadn’t remembered Desmond was eating away at him. It had to be. The year they’d spent separated, he saw his friend regress to the dark, occluded man he’d been before he met her.

  Desmond fell for Larke while actively trying to avoid it, and she’d transformed him without him even realizing it. But, he’d known Desmond a long time and his friend always seemed to be battling demons. Although he didn’t know all the details, he was pretty sure that those demons had played a role in ending their relationship.

  Still, there was hope. When he’d spotted them walking up to Cordella, he saw a look on Desmond’s face that he hadn’t seen since he and Larke split. If they were lucky, maybe the only memory Larke would regain would be the happy years of their marriage. If not, maybe there was still room for them to start over.

  Larke watched Doug leave before her eyes settled on Desmond. It was strange how much more handsome he appeared whenever she looked at him, as if she was seeing him over and over again for the first time. She’d assumed that she’d hit the single woman’s lottery when he’d approached her on the beach, and even though he’d lied to her about who he was, she’d instantly believed him when he told her why he was there. There was just something about his dark, pearly orbs that dared her to trust them.
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  “How are you feeling?” He asked, studying her. “Still shaken up?”

  “I’m getting better,” she answered. “Do you think you could come over here, though? Sit next to me?”

  He rose without question and took a seat, leaving about a foot of space between them. “Better?”

  “Yes.” A breath of hair swooshed from her lungs. “I know this probably sounds ridiculous, but I feel safer when you’re closer.”

  He shook his head. “Not ridiculous at all.”

  “Plus, there’s something about the way you smell. Just the way you smell is enough to put me at ease right now.”

  She lifted his sleeve to her nose, took in a whiff of his scent, and then released it. “Sandalwood. It reminds me of something, but I just don’t know what.”

  Me. It reminds you of me, he wanted to blurt out. It was the same thing she’d told him he’d smelled like on their third date and to this day, he still had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Well, when we get back to the States, I’ll buy you a giant bottle of sandalwood oil. That way, even when I’m not around, you can still feel safe whenever you sniff it.”

  An unexpected wave sadness washed over her when she thought about him leaving.

  “Want to play a game?” She abruptly redirected. “It’s a game that my Grandma Ruth used to play. It’s like an ice-breaker. It can tell you a lot about someone if you play it long enough.”

  “I’ll bite,” Desmond agreed.

  Larke turned to face him and closed her eyes. “Ok. Try to guess what I’m thinking.”

  His outburst of laughter sent her lids flying open. A blush crawled up her neck as she watched his eyes sparkle with amusement, and it was amazing that something so simple could make her feel so wonderful.

  “Without any clues?” He asked. “Come on, you have to give me something to go off of.”

  She closed her eyes again. “No sir. The point of the game is for you to guess. Just try it. It might surprise you.”

  Desmond cleared his throat. “Okay. You’re thinking that the egg salad sandwich that Doug had lying for over a week in the captain’s quarters probably wasn’t the best lunch idea.”

  Suppressing a smile, she lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Be serious.”

  He laughed. “Alright, alright. You’re thinking…” he paused, “you’re thinking that today was one of the worst days of your life, but you’re grateful that we’ve made it through. You’re finally convinced that I’m not going to kill you and maybe, just maybe, I can get the job done of getting you back home to your family safely.”

  She opened her eyes. “That’s actually not that bad.”

  “So, what were you actually thinking?”

  He removed a long lash that had fallen onto her cheek and Larke took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his fingertips against her skin.

  “You got that part right, but I was also thinking about how I’m really starting to like talking to you, Des.”

  She moved closer, placed a hand on his forearm, and traced the veins there, mystifying him at how incredible something so simple could feel. How had he been able to live without this for even more than one second?

  “My turn.” He let his hand fall from her cheek. “Try to guess what I’m thinking.”

  She stroked her chin. “Let me see. You’re thinking about the next step in this entire process—”

  Not quite.

  “—and how we’re finally going to make it back to the states—”

  Wrong again.

  “—and what resources you’ll need to keep Jarvis’ men away for good.”

  He stared at her and thought about lying, but the truth was proving itself to be a formidable opponent.

  “You have freckles behind your left ear,” he pointed out. “And there’s a very slight speck of green in your right eye. Your smile, it stretches from here,” he touched her cheek, “to here, and even on the coldest days, looking into your eyes can warm a man from head to heart.”

  Her head fell for a few seconds. When she looked up at him again, recognition flashed for a brief moment before it was gone and she was looking at him like that again. Like she didn’t know who he was. At least, who he really was.

  He’d told her the same thing twice before: the first night they both lay in his bed wrapped up in his sheets, naked bodies still warm, and her laying on top of him with a smile on her face that had made him take her again. Over and over. The second time he’d told her that was on a beach in Virginia. He was on one knee. There was a blue box in his hand.

  “Oh,” was all she managed, her face still flushed. “What would make you think about that?”

  As he prepared a response, they were interrupted by the jerking motion of the boat being anchored and Doug reappearing with a black backpack over his shoulder.

  “We’re here,” he announced, pushing open the door.

  They followed him onto the shore of a secluded harbor bordered by large trees. Night had already fallen, and he took them on a moonlit trail that cut through the forest and led to a clearing where a helicopter was perched in the middle, a man dressed in all black leaned against it. He waved when he saw them walking towards him and met them halfway. Doug shook his hand then gestured to Larke.

  “Tim, Larke Tapley.”

  Tim and Larke exchanged a handshake. “I’m Special Agent Timothy Huang,” he greeted. “Me and these two gentlemen, we go way back.” He jerked his head in Desmond’s direction. “You’ve got one of the best men out there on your six, so don’t worry, you’re in excellent hands.”

  Doug removed the backpack and tossed it to Desmond. “In there, I left you guys with some burners, your basic toolkit, emergency supplies, and a memory card with all of the information that I’ve gotten so far. And, I know how much you love your rifles, Harding, but it couldn’t fit, so I hope a pistol and a fair amount of ammo will do the trick.”

  Desmond strapped on the pack. “Thanks, Doug. I owe you.”

  He laughed. “You’ll always owe me. Just make sure you take care of yourself. I want to see you old and gray with thousands of grandkids running around.”

  Larke noticed his eyes briefly flick over to her before he set them back on Desmond.

  With a final wave goodbye, they climbed inside the chopper, and Doug waited until they were out of sight before making his way back towards the boat. Pulling out his phone, he placed a call to his wife.

  He couldn’t even begin to imagine what Desmond was going through and fortunately, he didn’t have to.

  Chapter Six

  Lights peppered the island of St. Thomas’ lush landscape and dozens of cars lined the streets as the downtown square bustled with festive activity.

  Agent Huang circled the area briefly before landing in another secluded clearing on the eastern tip of the island, then helped Larke out of the helicopter and said a few words to Desmond before pointing off in one direction. Desmond nodded, they shook hands, and with a tip of his hat, he was gone.

  “Where is he off to?” she asked once the noise from the chopper disappeared.

  “He has other tasks,” Desmond replied. “You’d be surprised how many people come knocking on our door for help before going to the federal government.”

  They began walking in the direction that Timothy had indicated.

  “And what about us? Where is our next stop?”

  “That’s a surprise.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “A surprise?”

  “Yes,” he replied with a laugh. “I don’t just have caves and old boats for shelter. I have access to some pretty nice digs myself.”

  They trekked for a few miles before climbing a small hill and rounding a corner, which brought an immaculate pavilion-styled villa into view. Vibrant red hibiscus plants lined the dirt pathway leading up to two arched, wooden red doors, and the soft glow of hanging paper lanterns illuminated an entrance surrounded in blue-gray natural stone.

  Desmond slipped his hands into a space behi
nd the flowers and the doors opened, inviting them up a white-stone path that led to the villa’s solid oak front doors. Inside, cathedral ceilings made the living area appear endless. Mahogany doors stood open, separating the living room from a patio which overlooked a rippling infinity pool, and welcomed a gentle breeze to flow throughout the space. Larke followed Desmond upstairs where a master suite covered nearly the entire area of the lower level.

  “This will be your room,” he announced, sitting at the edge of a king-sized bed which seemed miniature against the size of the room. “I’ll be in the suite downstairs. The closets and bathrooms are stocked with whatever you might need so, take some time to unwind from all that’s been going on. I’m going to take a shower and then whip us up some dinner.”

  Larke, overwhelmed with gratitude for everything that he had done up to that point, couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. He’d saved her life, on more than one occasion, and hadn’t even asked for anything in return. For that, she would be eternally indebted to him.

  “Take your time,” she told him. “I’ll make dinner. You’ve done enough already.”

  She started towards the bathroom, but he grabbed her around the waist and tugged her back towards him. Out of all the things that she’d remembered, one of them unfortunately hadn’t been that she couldn’t cook.

  “You want to make us dinner?” He asked.

  She faced him. “Yes. I do.”

  “Can you cook?”

  “I think so.”

  “You think so?”

  She nodded. “I think so, as in, I’ve never killed anybody.”

  “Allegedly,” he teased and she punched him in the arm. He resisted the urge to press a kiss against her ripe mouth.

  “It’s okay. I’ll do it,” he offered.

  “Can you cook?”

  “Oh, I can throw down, woman.”

  Laughing, she stepped closer until she stood between his knees. “I don’t know, Des. You don’t seem like the type of man than can throw down. You seem more like the peanut butter and jelly sandwich type.”

  He laughed, a deep rumble that started in his stomach. “I can make a mean one of those too, if that’s want you want.”