Enemy Within (Unseen Enemy Book 1) (8 page)

But what made Dallas warm to her the most was the way she was with Dean. Affectionate and gentle, she looked at him like he was the only man in the room, the only man she saw in her presence. It was clear as day that he was special to her; he meant something. Her insistence to treat Dean as not much more than a walking dick was ridiculous, and Dallas wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep his mouth shut about it.

It’s not your business, man. They’ll come around. I hope.

Dallas shrugged. “OK, whatever you say. If that’s the end, that’s the end. So, what are you up to today?”

“I have the morning off, then I go to work. You?”

Dallas sighed. “I have that guy from Atlanta coming in to town tonight, and he wants to go out clubbing.”

“On a Wednesday?”

“I know, right? But he needs protection, so it’ll probably be an all-nighter at bars and strip clubs, watching his back.”

Dean grinned. “You know you
love
the strip clubs, man.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But I’d also love a night in. Too many all-nighters lately, Dean. I may start to assign myself just day gigs soon enough, leave the clubbing shit to my younger guys.”

“Well,” Dean said. “That’s the perk of being the boss, right? We get to control the work schedule?”

“True enough.” Dallas stood and stretched. “Anyway, I have some errands to run then I need to get back to bed for a few hours. Have to be alert tonight.”

“Yeah, OK. See you later.”

Dean went back in the house and walked down to the bedroom. Emma was still sleeping and he climbed back in to bed carefully, trying not to disturb her. She looked better already; her cheeks had a bit of color and the darkness under her eyes had lessened. It seemed that all she had needed was a good night’s sleep… and some mind-blowing sex, of course.

He hardened as he remembered the night before. They had started slow, as Dean had promised, but things had heated and sped up rapidly. Within a few minutes of showering together, they were both naked in the bed, Emma pinned under him, Dean plunging inside her soaked centre, his hand between their bodies and rubbing her clit. She had come fast and hard, and then almost immediately fallen asleep in his arms. Dean had held her to him, stroking her gorgeous hair, until he had crashed himself.

Now she stirred a bit and he touched her cheek. Those eyes fluttered open, almost purple in the half-light, and when she saw him, she smiled. He pulled her close and she buried her head in his chest, her fingers curled around his t-shirt, holding on to him. She closed her eyes again and dropped off again, her breathing deep and steady. He stared down at her, so trusting and calm; she hadn’t even thought twice about cuddling up to him, even in her hazy state of half-awareness.

Dean shut his eyes too, wondering if he could maybe get some more rest. With Emma, he slept better than he had in years. The nightmares had backed off, the guilt had receded. They were both still there, just below the surface, he knew; they would never leave him fully, but they were leaving him in peace. For now.

Chapter Seven

Emma jumped when her doorbell chimed. She glanced at the clock on her laptop screen, wondering who would be at her door at eight o’clock on a Monday morning. Not that the day or time made any major difference to her at this point. She had finally capitulated to the reality of her illness – bouts of sickness from the chemo, dizziness and exhaustion increasingly hitting her out of nowhere, even at Dean’s – and was now on an extended leave-of-absence from work. The whole idea of a ‘work day’ was a bit ludicrous, but still. Eight o’clock on a Monday was early for almost everyone else on the planet, wasn’t it?

“Who is it?” she asked through the door.

“It’s Nigel, sweet thing, and I come bearing gifts.”

She swung the door open, delighted. “Nigel!”

“Hey, Emma. Liv sent me.”

“Of course she did.” Emma stood to one side. “Come on in.”

He came in, loaded down with shopping bags and juggling a take-away coffee. She took the coffee and two of the bags and he sighed with relief.

“I thought that latté was going to go
flying
, doll, I kid you not. What a waste of foam, you know?”

She laughed and hugged him close.

He held her, shocked at how much weight she had lost in just a few weeks. He took a step back, stared at her face. She was still stunning, no doubt about it, but she was starting to look gaunt and tired.

Fucking, fucking cancer.

“OK, sweet thing. Sit down and brace yourself. I have
goodies
, let me tell you.”

She sat on her sofa, thrilled to see him. Nigel Ramirez was hands-down the coolest, funniest man she had ever met. His fashion sense made her gag with envy and he loved to gossip and giggle with her, especially about men. He was Liv’s PA and did his job with flair and ease; he loved handling her schedule and Liv trusted the man with her entire life. He even knew her internet passwords, her bank account information, the code to her home security system. He was like an extension of Liv’s body, and the girls all adored him.

“What did you bring me?” she asked. “What? What?”

“OK, you ready for this?”

“Yeah.”

He reached in to a shopping bag and produced a dress that took her breath away. It was flowy and loose, but had underlying structure. The colors were bright and warm, and she ran her hand over it. The material was soft, comfortable.

He was watching her. “Liv said that some materials irritate your skin lately… I thought this would be gentle enough?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s weird, but my body actually really hurts sometimes, so bad that I can’t stand to be touched. Even cotton is painful.”

“Well, this should be OK. You’ll try it, right?”

“It’ll be perfect, Nigel. Thank you.”

“OK. I also brought you some gorgeous jewelry from Liv’s last photo shoot, and a few pairs of sexy sandals. Nice, huh?” He hesitated. “One last thing, Emma… but I’m a bit worried I’ll upset you.”

“What is it?”

Nigel reached down in to the last bag and pulled out a handful of scarfs. They were delicate and feminine but her breath stopped when she realized what he was thinking.

“For – for when my hair falls out. Right?”

“Yes.” He looked at her anxiously. “Have I overstepped, doll? If I have, just say so.”

“No.” Her voice seemed to be coming from very far away and she shook her head a bit. So far, she had managed to avoid thinking about
that
side-effect of the chemo too much. She knew that when she started to lose her hair, she’d end it with Dean, since she would have no way at all to hide from him what was happening. “No, you’re right to think about this. I don’t have any, and these are amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Nigel fought back tears, smiled brightly. “So! What’s this about you bedding a sexy soldier covered in tattoos?”

“Oh, God.” Emma groaned. “Liv told you?”

“Of course she did! Jesus, doll. She knows how much I adore a man in uniform – and I like them even better
out
of it.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Tell all. The more salacious the details, the better.”

“Not much to tell, I’m afraid. I just see him when I feel well enough, you know. Around the chemo and the spells of exhaustion. And it’s just sex, really.”

Nigel’s dark eyes sparkled. “My favorite kind of arrangement, sweet thing. Liv speculates that Dean is as hot as hell and that the man has a body that just won’t quit. Is she right?
Please
tell me that she is…”

She giggled. “Liv’s right.”

“Oh, thank God.” He sighed. “You just enjoy that for as long as you can.”

“I will. And actually, speaking of hot men – don’t you have a new boyfriend?”

“I do, indeed.”

“Abe, right?”

“Yeah.” He made a face. “Terrible name, huh? The man is simply
not
an Abraham, and I have no idea what that would even
look
like, to be honest. But
my
Abe is just sex on legs, I promise you. Built like a goddamn line-backer and with stamina to kill for.”

She laughed.

“Maybe you’ll meet him? We’re having a party at my place this Saturday night… can you make it?”

Her stomach tightened. “Hard to say, Nigel. I’ll try, OK?’

“Oh.” He studied her silently. “Chemo this week?”

“Yeah. I start another round tomorrow and I don’t expect to resurface until Thursday or Friday. I may not be OK for the weekend. But if I am, I promise to be there. Alright?”

“OK, doll.” He held her hand. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Toes, too.”

**

Dean squinted down at the tiny rose tattoo he was inking, trying to keep the detailing as delicate as possible. The girl was jumping around, though, making it a challenge, to say the least.

“Hey,” she said. “It hurts.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I warned you about that, remember? You wanted it right on the breastbone – not much flesh or muscle to absorb the impact of the needle. But I’m almost done, OK? Maybe you need a break?”

“Yeah, for sure.” She sat up, her low-slung jeans cupping her curved ass, her generous breasts squeezed in to a black lace bra. Every guy in the place was checking her out and damned if she didn’t love it. Dean had offered her a light blanket to cover herself, but she had refused. She was obviously the kind of girl who liked to have it all hang out.

Dean leaned back. “So you OK?”

“Uh-huh.” Her light blue eyes were gazing at him. “You own this place, right?”

“Yep.”

“You do any of your own tattoos?”

“No. Mine have all been done by other people.”

She reached out to trace one of his tattoos with a forefinger. He was so surprised that he didn’t even move away at first. “I like this one,” she said, running her fingers over the number ‘75’ on his Ranger’s tattoo. “You were a Ranger for real?”

He jerked back. “Yeah. For real.”

“No shit.” She smiled, slow and sexy. “That’s hot.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah.” She took in his shoulders and chest, admired his muscled arms. “So, when you finish with this tattoo, maybe you want to go for a drink? It’s almost closing time, right?”

He saw Jim staring across the room at him. The man knew full well and good that this was exactly the kind of offer that Dean never refused. She was blonde and busty and practically had her legs open right there on the table – and he had never been less interested in a quick fuck in the whole of his life.

“Thanks,” Dean said. “But I’m afraid I can’t tonight. Busy.”

“How long will you be busy?” she said. “I’ll be in Shooter’s until late. Maybe when you’ve stopped being busy, you can drop by?”

Dean shook his head. “Sorry, I won’t make it.” He gestured at the half-done tattoo. “You ready to finish up?”

She pouted a bit and lay down again. Dean caught Jim rolling his eyes and he scowled over at him. Dean didn’t know if it was at the girl’s blatant come-on or Dean’s blatant refusal, but Dean didn’t care either way. He was in a lousy fucking mood.

He hadn’t seen Emma at all that week. She was traveling for work again and wouldn’t be back until after the weekend, she’d said. But even before she had headed off to Las Vegas, she’d been amazingly busy and had only stayed over at his place once the week before.

Dean got the feeling that she was starting to slow things down, pull back a bit. He didn’t like it; he minded a lot that she was maybe going to have the end-it-all conversation with him. Yeah, he had agreed to those terms, but still. He was beginning to be sorry that she’d just be able to walk out of his life and he wouldn’t be able to even offer a token argument or resistance.

He focused on the tattoo, wanting only to shift this chick off his table and out the door. He would go home and watch TV and go to bed early, missing Emma the whole fucking time. And that’s when he finally admitted to what had been staring him in the face for weeks now.

Goddammit, it’s official. I feel like I have a girlfriend. Jesus fucking Christ.

**

“So,” Emma said, trying to stay calm. “I haven’t responded to the chemo.”

Jenny reached out and took her one hand; Liv gripped the other. Kat stood up and moved behind her. She didn’t touch Emma, but Emma knew she was there.

“I’m sorry.” Doctor Hal Fife shook his head. “No. You haven’t.”

“Has the cancer spread?” Liv asked.

“I don’t know.” Hal looked down. “We need to do some tests, OK?”

Emma breathed out. “A lumbar puncture?”

“Yes,” he said.

“A what?” Jenny said.

“It’s also called a spinal tap,” Emma told her.

“Oh. What’s it test for?”

“To see if the cancer has spread to my central nervous system.”

“Right,” Hal said. “Specifically, to see if it’s in your spine.”

“Or brain,” Kat said quietly.

“Yes. That’s correct.”

A heavy silence descended on the small room.

Emma blinked back tears. “OK. So when so we do the puncture?”

“As soon as possible. Can you come in tomorrow?”

“Of course.” She wiped her eyes. “How long does it take?”

“Oh, the procedure itself takes about an hour…”

“Wait,” Liv said. “She’s going to have a needle jammed in her spine for
an hour
?”

“No. The needle is in for less than a minute, but we have to freeze the area and then check for Emma’s recovery after. The whole thing takes an hour – including set-up, prep and follow-up.”

The women relaxed.

“And I can go home after?” Emma said.

“Yes. It’s an outpatient procedure. You’ll be sore after, probably have some bruising, maybe experience a bad headache. But that’s it for side-effects. OK?”

She nodded. “OK.”

“So come to the clinic tomorrow at one o’clock. As soon as the results are in, I’ll call you to come back and see me.”

Emma stood up. “Thank you, Doctor Fife.”

“I’m sorry the news isn’t better, Emma.”

She shook her head. “Five rounds of chemo, eleven different drugs, over fifteen weeks… I guess we need to have a sixth cycle next week? Even more aggressive?”

“Honestly, Emma, I think the time has come to think about stem cell transplant.”

Jenny gasped.

Emma started. “What, already?”

“Your leukemia is very aggressive, Emma, far more than anybody anticipated. We’ll definitely do more chemo, of course, but I don’t think it’s the answer. Not for you.”

“So, I need bone marrow from a donor.”

“Yes.”

“How hard is it to get a match?” Liv asked.

Doctor Fife sighed. “It’s – challenging.”

“It’s difficult,” Emma said quietly. “The best chance is a sibling, but I’m an only child. The next best chance is someone in my family, but there’s about a thirty percent chance that I’ll find a match. My best shot is the national bone marrow program.”

“OK,” Kat said. “So… let’s get you in the program. Right?”

“Right,” Hal tried to look reassuring. “This is a long way from over, ladies. Let’s get you on that list, Emma, and we’ll take it from there.”

They all nodded, but for the first time since Emma’s diagnosis just over four months earlier, they were less than reassured. They were, in fact, completely terrified. They had all been so sure that the chemotherapy was the answer, and the fact that it was failing was a shock.

My God,
Liv thought.
Shit just got real. Really real.

She took Emma’s hand, wincing at how small and cold it was.

“Come, on, Em,” she said gently. “Let’s get you home, OK?”

“Yeah.” Emma was barely able to speak. It came to her that she wanted Dean there with her, whispering comforting things and holding her close. “Yeah. Home.”

**

Liv sat on the sofa, listening to Emma’s breathing in the master bedroom. It was slow and steady and Liv relaxed, knowing that Emma was finally out.

The spinal tap had gone well earlier that day, and besides some bruising, Emma had experienced no side-effects at all, not even a headache. But she was exhausted and teary and upset, and Liv had volunteered to stay overnight. Kat and Jenny had both protested, but Liv had been adamant: they both had to go to work in the morning, but she got Nigel to cancel her day. She was free and clear to be there for Emma, as long as she needed her.

She was just making up the bed in the guestroom when her cell phone buzzed with a text. Sighing, she picked it up and blinked in surprise when she saw that the message said, ‘FUCK YOU WHORE SLUT.’ Liv shook her head and tossed the phone on to the bedside table. In her years of modelling, she’d received numerous such charming text messages and e-mails. There were also literally thousands of obscene comments on her professional website and all over the damn internet about her.

Time to change my cell number again. I’ll have to ask Nigel to do that this week. Crap.

Liv had a shower and brushed her teeth and by the time she returned, she had another two text messages from the same number, both equally unoriginal and insulting. She turned her phone off and pushed all this bullshit out of her mind completely. She’d mention it to Greg, her security guy, but she wasn’t even a bit worried. What was really worrying her was sleeping in the next bedroom.