Rev It Up (40 page)

“But you’re wrong,” he murmured, “about one very important thing.”

She choked, her shoulders hitching up around her ears, “I am?”

“Yes.” He nodded, despite the fact that it caused the demons to start in with their best impression of River Dance. “Because I can forgive you, Shell. I
have
forgiven you.”

***

Michelle couldn’t help it.

Blame it on the fear of the last few days. Blame it on the emotional upheaval or the exhaustion or the soul-deep grief over Lisa’s death. Heck, blame it on the fact that, besides a granola bar, she hadn’t eaten in…well, she didn’t even know how long anymore.

Because those words, those beautiful, selfless words had her dropping her face into her hands and bursting into tears.

“Not exactly the response I was hoping for,” Jake muttered.

“S-s-sorry,” she sobbed, everything inside her, everything she’d tried so hard to keep together, unraveling so quickly it actually physically hurt. And it was either sit down or fall down, so she stumbled to the love seat beside his bed, sinking onto the threadbare cushions. “I-I just—” She couldn’t go on; she was crying too hard.

And it appeared the emotional breakdown that’d been threatening for a long time had finally come home to roost.

Perfect. Just…perfect.

“Rock is right,” he whispered, surprising her when he reached over to hook the edge of his hand beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “We both made a lot of mistakes.
Both
of us.”

Yes. Yes they had. But her deception was so much bigger than any he’d ever—

“Did you mean that other stuff?” he asked, his eyes even more brilliant green against the paleness of his skin.

She sniffled. She wasn’t surprised to find her hands shaking when she reached up to wipe her cheeks. “Wh-what other stuff?” She’d said so much. Admitted so much…

He smiled at her then, genuinely smiled. And the sight of those devilish dimples caused a fresh wave of tears to climb up the back of her throat, choking her. She began sobbing uncontrollably all over again.

“Damn,” he cursed, leaning over to grab the Kleenex box from the little table beside the bed. “It looks like the main pipe has busted.”

“S-sorry,” she sputtered, relieved and embarrassed all at the same time. Relieved because, for the first time since her brother told her Jake was back, she thought maybe, just maybe, everything might actually work out, maybe they’d actually be able to reach some sort of amiable understanding. Embarrassed because, come on, she was blubbering like she belonged in a straightjacket. Or sedated. Or maybe she was blubbering like a person in a straightjacket who’d been sedated.

Either way, she was making a total fool of herself but, again, she just couldn’t help it. Everything was so overwhelming. Jake was overwhelming. Her feelings for him were overwhelming. The fact that he could actually forgive her for what she’d done was overwhelming…

“I’m talking about the fact that you admitted you don’t think I’m anything like your father,” he said, solicitously handing her a tissue.

“I
don’t
,” she assured him, indelicately blowing her nose. “I know now that you were only doing what you thought was right.”

“Yo,” he chuckled, and the sound was so welcome a new torrent of tears spilled onto her cheeks. He was right. The main pipe
had
busted. “We both royally fucked up by trying to do what was right. Talk about killing each other with kindness, huh?”

All she could do was nod helplessly as she tried to smile at him.

***

God, she’s beautiful.

Even with mascara running down her splotchy cheeks and her ponytail falling out all over the place, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

And he was finished waiting to hear her say the words he’d dreamed of every night for four long years.

“Okay, so now tell me,” he demanded, his heart pounding with hungry anticipation. “Tell me to my face.”

She shook her head, confusion in her eyes—those gorgeous eyes she’d passed down to their son, those gorgeous eyes he hoped she passed down to
all
their sons. “T-tell you what, Jake?”

“What you told Rock.”

She swallowed and wiped her nose on the tissue, apprehensively searched his face. “What do you mean?”

The pain in his head made the thread by which he was holding on to his patience stretch paper thin. “Tell me you
love
me, woman.”

For a long while she said nothing, just stared at him, seemingly paralyzed. Then, when he was about half a second away from jumping out of bed and shaking the truth out of her, she murmured, her fabulous lips trembling delicately, “Of course I do, Jake. You know that. You’ve always known that.”

“Yes,” he admitted, his heart shouting with victory, his shoulders drooping in relief. “But you’ve never said it.”

“Never?”

God love the woman.

“
Never
,” he breathed, his expression loudly broadcasting the fact that she still hadn’t.

Again she just looked at him, dragging out the suspense until he thought he’d scream—and damn the high-heeled demons! Then she sniffed, blew out a shaky breath and said, “I love you, Jake. I love you with all my heart.”

And there they were.

The words he’d been waiting to hear since…well, since forever.

He nearly passed out from the hard burst of joy that shot through him. But he didn’t want to miss a minute of having Shell beside him, loving him,
admitting
she loved him.

And speaking of…

He scooted over in the bed to make room for her. “Get that fine fanny of yours over here.”

Her eyes widened with shock. “Jake, I’m sure I’m not supposed to—”

“Ass. In. Bed.” He enunciated slowly, holding up the thin sheet, pasting on a look that brooked no argument.

She bit her bottom lip uncertainly before climbing in next to him, gingerly laying her cheek against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

Her.

Michelle. Shelly. Shell.

The woman of his dreams.

“I love you, too, you know,” he said, squeezing her tight when she hiccupped on another sob that turned into a dozen more.

Yo, he was surprised she wasn’t shriveled up like a raisin from dehydration after all the tears she’d shed. But that was Shell for you. Soft, tender-hearted Shell.

And he wouldn’t have her any other way.

For long moments he held her, rocking softly as her tears drenched the thin cotton of his hospital gown. Eventually she quieted, eventually she stopped shaking like a leaf in his arms. And it was then he said, “So let’s start talking strategy here.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” she asked, tensing in his arms.

“I think we should get married right away. Once I start with the Black Knights, it might be a while before I have enough vacation time socked away for a decent honeymoon.”

She pushed up to stare down at him, longing and disbelief in her eyes. “Married? Y-you want to marry me?”

Silly woman. Yo, what did she think? After everything they’d been through he’d just want to be friends?

“Of course I do. I mean, we already have a son together and,” he pressed his palm against her belly, “it’s likely there will be more.”

And then they were both thinking about the hotel room and all the things they’d done to one another that culminated in one sadly broken prophylactic.

A delicate blush stole up her cheeks and, inexplicably, he felt his dick stir with interest.

Just
goes
to
show, the male is programmed to mate at all costs.
Because,
damn
, he barely had enough blood left to remain conscious.

“I love you, Shell. You love me. There are no more secrets and—” he hesitated, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “Or are there? You don’t have another one of my kids squirreled away somewhere, do you?”

“No,” she choked on a laugh, her eyes bright with more tears. “There’s just the one.”

“Well, we’ll have to work on that,” he promised, watching as his words caused the tears to spill down her cheeks. This time, though, they were tears of joy.

“Oh, Jake,” she breathed against his lips.

Her mouth was soft and warm.
She
was soft and warm. Everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he’d ever dreamed. And despite the little demons and the blood loss, his below the belt region responded with a resounding
yes!

She gasped when she felt him pulse against her leg. “Jake,” she giggled. “We can’t do this here. The doctor is going to be coming in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” he groaned, nibbling on her smooth, fragrant neck, loving the way she tilted her head back just so. “But I promise, as soon as they let me out of this hack shack, I’m taking you to bed and not letting you out for a week.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she sighed, and the sound was seductive and happy and filled his heart to bursting.

In life there are few perfect moments, but he was having one now. Because he held the woman of his dreams in his arms, and with her came the promise of happiness, of family, and a priceless, second chance at love.

Available Now

From Sourcebooks Casablanca

Jacksonville, North Carolina

Outside the Morgan Household

Those screams…

Man, he’d been witness to some bad shit in his life. A great deal of which he’d personally perpetrated but very little of which stuck with him the way those screams were going to stick with him. Those soul-tearing, gut-wrenching bursts of inconsolable grief.

As Nate Weller, known to most in the spec-ops community simply as “Ghost,” gingerly lowered himself into the Jeep that General Fuller had arranged for him to pick up upon returning CONUS—continental U.S.—he figured it was somehow appropriate. Each vicious shriek was an exclamation point marking the end of a mission that’d gone from bad to the worst possible scenario imaginable, and a fitting cry of heartbreak to herald the end of his best friend’s remarkable life.

Grigg…

Sweet Jesus, had it really been just two weeks since they were drinking raki in Istanbul? Two weeks since they’d crossed the border into Syria to complete a deletion?

And that was another thing. Deletion.
Christ
, what a word. A ridiculously euphemistic way of saying you put a hot ball of lead that exploded with a muzzle velocity of 2,550 feet per second into the brainpan of some unsuspecting SOB who had the appallingly bad luck of finding himself on ol’ Uncle Sam’s shit list.

Yep, two lines you never want to cross, horizontal and vertical.

“Get me out of here,” Alisa Morgan choked as she wrenched open the passenger door and jumped inside the Jeep, bringing the smell of sunshine and honeysuckle with her.

Ridiculously pleasant scents considering Nate’s day had begun in the seventh circle of hell and was quickly getting worse. Shouldn’t that be the rotten-egg aroma of sulfur burning his nose?

He glanced over at the petite woman sitting beside him, stick straight and trembling with the effort to contain her grief, and his stupid heart sprouted legs and jumped into his throat. It’d been that way since the first time he’d met Ali, Grigg’s baby sister.

Baby,
right
.

She hadn’t been a baby even then. At seventeen she’d been a budding young woman. And now? Over twelve years later? Man, now she was
all
woman. All sunny blond hair and fiercely alive, amber-colored eyes in a face guaran-damn-teed to totally destroy him. Oh buddy, that face was a real gut check, one of those sweet Disney princess-type deals. Not to mention her body. Jesus.

He wanted her now just like he’d wanted her then. Maybe more. Okay, definitely more. And the inner battle he constantly waged with his unrepentant libido whenever she got within ten feet of him coupled with his newly acquired, mountainous pile of regret, guilt, and anguish to make him so tired. So unbearably tired of…everything.

“What about your folks?” he murmured, afraid to talk too loudly lest he shatter the tenuous hold she seemed to have on herself. “Don’t you wanna be with them?”

He glanced past the pristine, green expanse of the manicured, postage-stamp sized lawn to the little, white, clapboard house with its cranberry trim and matching shutters. Geez, the place was homey. So clean, simple, and welcoming. Who would ever guess those inside were slowly bleeding out in the emotional aftershock of the bomb he’d just delivered?