“Stay with the car,” he ordered her, and then he and Hatch slipped out to clear the grounds. It took another hour for him to feel confident in the choice and then make contact with his secondary and tertiary teams. Campbell had done well with his choices. They were en route, and the first team would be there in two hours.

  “I’ll get the generator started,” Hatch said, then rubbed his own face. “We need to sort out food, medical supplies…”

  “Just get the generator started, then get some sleep. I’ll stand watch until the team is here.”

  “Yeah, how about you get them in and spend time with our lady, and I’ll stand watch. I doubt I’m going to sleep until we’re off this isle.”

  “You all right?” He clasped Hatch’s shoulder.

  “I’ll live,” he told him. “Just want her as far away from them as we can get her. I don’t trust any of this.”

  “Nor do I. We’ll have plans by dawn.”

  “Dirk…” The unspoken question hung in the air.

  “She’ll go,” he told him. “She’ll go because she wants us safe.” And because he was going to ask her. “If she planned to cooperate with that man’s lunacy, she would have done it back there at the facility.” Of that, he was certain.

  “Good, I’ll leave you to it.”

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled Valda into a room that Hatch pointed out. Hatch had already gotten the heat on. The place was more a fortress than a house, and the rooms were underground and windowless. Once he’d bolted the door, he turned to find Valda sitting down on the edge of the bed, weariness in every part of her.

  “You’re tired,” he said as he knelt in front of her.

  With gentle hands, she cupped his face and then studied him, sadness darkening her eyes.

  “They’re wounds,” he assured her. “I will heal. The hair will grow back. It might take a while, but I’m still me.”

  “I had no doubt of that,” she whispered, and then leaned forward to kiss him. There were a hundred things they needed to talk about, but with the pressure of her lips on his, he shoved them aside. Valda was alive and she was in his arms and they were safe.

  For the moment.

  “I need you,” she whispered against his mouth, and if his resolve had not already crumbled, it would have fallen away with that single demand. Lifting her, he twisted, and they landed on the bed together. Thankfully, the air recyclers had kept the dust to a minimum as he made short work of her clothes then his.

  A gasp escaped her as she feathered her hand over the bruises on his chest where they mingled with his tattoos.

  “They don’t matter,” he said, and when she opened mouth to protest, he silenced her with one finger. “Whose bed are you in?”

  The softest of smiles eased away her frown, and her eyes seemed to lighten. The fist in his chest that had held his heart captive for so many years eased, and he took his first real breath in what seemed like a lifetime.

  “Yours,” she whispered.

  “And who is in charge in my bed?”

  “You are,” she answered easily enough, “sir.”

  A dark chuckle slid through him as he cupped her chin, then applied pressure to the corner of her mouth with his thumb. He stroked it against her tongue as she opened to him.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered. “I am so fucking tired of missing you.”

  “I won’t leave you again,” she swore, and he believed her, but he still waged war on his demons and hers until he’d dragged every ounce of pleasure from her he could. Then and only then did he sink into her waiting body, and he shuddered from head to toe. His control slipped at the hot velvet glove of her pussy wrapping around him.

  Yes, he’d made love to her in her mind, but this was really her. This was her body accepting his, this was her face softened from orgasms and her eyes drowsy with pleasure. Everything he asked for, she gave him, and when he kissed her, she opened to him like the true beauty she was. He wanted to be easy and gentle, but he frayed at the ends, desperate for her.

  “Please,” she begged against his lips. “Let go.”

  This once, he conceded, and he set a punishing pace as he drew back and then slammed into her. She curved her whole body around his, dug her fingers in and thrust her tongue to parry his as he moaned into her kiss. Every thrust shoved her up the bed, and he’d drag her back to him with a solid grip on her shoulders.

  It wouldn’t take him long. His need had threatened to break him with the first orgasm he’d dragged out of her, and he was ready to blow by the fifth. But he wanted more.

  He wanted her to come again.

  “Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Make yourself come for me. I want to feel you on my cock as you come apart.”

  Then her hand dipped between them, but he didn’t slow his pace, needing the friction as his balls dragged up tight and his whole body demanded the release. A moment later, she let out a cry, and he reveled in the pleasure radiating out of her expression and threw his head back as he let go. His own orgasm turned his blood electric and melted him from inside out.

  He spilled into her, mouth locked on hers as he drank in her moans. Sweat slicked them, and still, he nestled between her thighs, even though he should roll over and drag her against him. He wanted her there, he wanted to be inside her, forever.

  “My love,” she whispered against him, her hand smoothing down his back, and it occurred to Dirk she was soothing him and offering comfort. Only then did he realize his shoulders shook and tears dampened his face. Wrapping his arms around her tighter, he kept his face tucked into her throat. He could feel her pulse beneath his lips, her words a balm to his ears, but the contact and the feel of her holding him as fiercely bandaged his soul.

  Finally.

  He had her back.

  Finally.

  He would never let her go again.

  Chapter 13

  “The good physician treats the disease; the great physician treats the patient who has the disease.” - Sir William Osler

  VALDA

  Dirk slept. He’d been sleeping for hours, his head pressed against my chest as though he needed to hear my heart beating. I couldn’t fault him. Wouldn’t. I should have dragged myself from this bed and gone to make contact with Smithson, at least long enough to get his explanation. We needed facts.

  We needed information to plan a strategy. But from the moment my awareness returned and I’d discovered Hatch and Dirk had been taken, I’d longed to have them back. They were all so much a part of me, but each belonged to me in a different way as much as I belonged to them. Dirk had always been my bulwark. He’d been the wall around me. The fury and the shelter. He kept all threats away.

  And to feel his pain so profoundly as he’d sobbed into my arms, something inside of me shifted again. Maybe forever. Already, I wanted to walk away from the work. I didn’t want to risk them. I didn’t want to risk what we had. Yet, if I did walk away, who would find the cures? The viral treatments? Who could undo what had been done?

  I had already worked out a treatment plan. It was more about disseminating it now. Dirk shifted against me, his arm spasming around my waist, and then he rolled onto his side. Curving over onto my hip, I faced him. In the darkness of the room, with only the dim light from the attached bathroom, I could barely make out his scared and weary visage.

  He’d aged a decade on me. Or maybe it just felt that way. I feathered my fingers against his face and then over his wounded scalp. His beautiful hair had always been so much a part of him. But it would grow back, and even if it didn’t, his looks were not what made him Dirk. I traced a pattern over the familiar tattoos, and his breathing deepened further. How tired was he truly?

  How much rest had they gotten? In the couple of weeks prior to leaving the island, Andreas had begun to sleep longer and longer. The shadows beneath his eyes had eased, albeit slowly. Even when I’d been in the memoriam, had they really been able to rest?

  If I’d been trying to free them?

  I wouldn’t have been able to.

  As it was, I couldn’t sleep now. We were away from Smithson and his men, but we were by no means free. He seemed very determined that I was the only one who could solve whatever problem he had. I could solve it—in the memoriam. I sighed.

  I’d spent some of the drive turning the various pieces of information over in my head, but I didn’t have enough pieces to even begin hazarding the shape of the puzzle. Unwilling to disturb Dirk with my restless thoughts, I eased from the bed. I cleaned up in the bathroom. It used sonic waves rather than water. Not my favorite, but it would do. At least we had access to something. I finger combed my hair and then pulled on my clothes. I skipped the panties that Dirk had cheerfully shredded.

  A part of me longed for looser, flowing clothing, but the air was damp and chilly inside all the stone. Barefoot, I moved quietly and let myself out. The hallway was lit enough for me to follow it to the stairs. I’d barely seen our passage on the way in, but it only seemed like closed rooms here, and I needed…I needed some air to think, and I needed a drink.

  Following the smell of coffee and food, I ascended the stairs and found my way into a small kitchen. Oz stood in front of a makeshift stove, bacon sizzling, and there were two of Dirk’s men seated at a table with coffee. They took one look at me and rose, plates and mugs in hand. With a nod, they left, and I gave them a small smile.

  I should really work on being more open with the mercenaries and soldiers pledged to Dirk. They’d been protecting us, and in some cases, they’d given their lives. Thoughts of Campbell flitted through my mind, and I closed my eyes.

  I knew almost nothing about him, and yet he’d died for us. So much death. Too much of it. The fact that all these years later and people were still dying to protect knowledge or to steal it…

  “Are you all right?” Oz’s quiet voice washed over me, and I found him studying me from where he turned the bacon. “And there’s plenty. If you sit, I can bring you coffee—”

  “I don’t want to sit,” I told him abruptly, and then grimaced. “My apologies. I don’t mean to be abrasive.”

  “That’s not abrasive,” he said, a faint smile softening his lips and his dark eyes almost too kind. “I’ve borne the brunt of your impatience, that is when you are abrasive. Right now, you’re worried and you’re pensive. And, if I were to guess, you’re hurt.” He paused a moment to remove bacon from the pan and add it to the plate before he turned off the heat under it. “Of course,” he murmured, “I might be projecting, because I was the one who inflicted the hurt.”

  He set two plates of food on the table and then added two mugs of coffee before pulling out a chair for me. For the first time since I walked in, he met my gaze.

  “You’re angry with me.” Surprise kindled in my soul. “You are angry with me.”

  “No,” he said quietly. “Come sit. We’re both tired.”

  “Yes, we are, but you are angry with me. Don’t patronize me, Oz. You did quite enough of that when you decided to distance from me emotionally so you could leave to save the other half of our family.”

  He flinched.

  But I still didn’t move to join him at the table. “Now, you’re angry with me. Why? Because I am not lashing out at you for the lies? For deliberately trying to hurt me so I would be too angry to fight with you? For pushing me in a way that would hopefully send me spiraling into my work, obsessing on that rather than on what you were doing?”

  Leaving the chair, he crossed to me. “I’m guilty of all of that, Valda.”

  “I know.”

  He blinked and then blew out a breath slowly. “If you know, then you have every reason to be angry with me.”

  With a lift of my shoulders, I spread my hands. “I’m aware. Is there a purpose to informing me how I feel? Or should feel?”

  A frown tightened his brow, and he searched my eyes. Whatever he sought, it seemed to trouble him even more when he didn’t find it. “I don’t understand. You should be furious with me. But you’re not.”

  “Do you need me to be angry with you?” The weight of the conversation closed in on me, like we had too much external pressure constricting the air around us. Needing to break the tension, at least a little, I moved to the table and took the seat I hadn’t wanted earlier. The agitation vibrating in my blood didn’t want me sitting down.

  I’d have the coffee, then I’d find a place to do some yoga and meditate. I needed to get my disparate thoughts in order so we could make all the decisions we needed to make. After taking the seat next to mine, Oz studied me.

  “I need to know why you aren’t angry with me,” Oz told me, his tone so solemn, I sighed.

  “Because you made a sacrifice for me. For them. You chose Dirk and Hatch over yourself. Over me. I agree with choosing them over me. I wish you hadn’t had to choose them over yourself. I was in no position to reasonably assess the situation, much less tackle it as you did. I needed to heal, I needed to repair the damage to my DNA, to everything that led to me being in the memoriam in the first place.”

  In his silence, I took a swallow of the coffee. It was just a little on the sweet side, but my body desperately craved the calories and the sweetness.

  “You did the right thing, even if it was ultimately uncomfortable and unpleasant for both of us.” Only then did I meet his gaze. Consternation and wonder vied for supremacy in his expression. “You saved them and you survived. Had you failed to survive, I would have been far angrier with you.”

  He leaned forward, hand hovering toward my face, but I turned toward the coffee again.

  “That said,” I continued. “I am still struggling to reconcile the lies. I understand all of it… I even respect it.”

  “But I hurt you,” he said softly, and this time, he settled his hand on my nape. The warmth of his fingers was so familiar, and I closed my eyes. I gave myself that moment to savor the contact. To remind myself he was with me again, that in truth, he hadn’t really left me. “That was one of my only two regrets,” he said softly. “Hurting you to make sure you didn’t try to follow me and so you wouldn’t worry about me. And then not being there for you, because your recovery was so far from over, but I trusted you were well enough to take care of yourself and that you could trust Andreas to help you.”

  I nodded a little. “I understand. But you were wrong.”

  At my glance, he raised his eyebrows.

  “I worried about you just because you weren’t there. More, you were out in this very unfriendly world alone, after giving up so much for me.”

  He squeezed my nape.

  “I didn’t know where you’d gone or how to help or if I would even know if something went wrong. So yes, I was worried. I’m afraid that part of your plan backfired spectacularly.”

  “Well,” he said with an almost wry chuckle. “In my defense, I’m a doctor, not a spy. I’ve never been particularly clever at subterfuge. That was always Hatch’s department. Or Dirk’s, though he always seemed to just storm through everything by not saying a word rather than trying to deceive you.”

  “We all have our skills and our strengths.” I reached over to touch my fingers to his face, and when I brushed my palm to his stubbled cheek, he leaned into the contact. Like Dirk and Hatch, shadows marred his eyes and fatigue lay heavily across him. We were all so tired. “Thank you for going to save them, even if I would never have asked you.”

  “You didn’t have to ask me,” he assured me. “They’re my brothers, Valda. That’s one thing the last few years really did teach us. We weren’t just tolerating each other because we wanted to be near you. They aren’t half-bad…” He offered an almost faint, if grudging smile. “Most of the time. Did you know that Andreas is actually really good at poker? Or that Hatch can make Dirk almost laugh?”

  No, I hadn’t known either of those things.

  “Hatch can also sing, though don’t ask him to do it. You have to catch him when he thinks no one is listening.”

  “Or he’ll perform and do his level best to make you laugh.” That I could absolutely believe. He lived to make other people smile. It was part of his disarming personality. He could test the patience of a saint and tease a smile from a statue.

  “Exactly.”

  “What secret did you share with them?” I traced my thumb under his eye.

  “I don’t know, you’d have to ask them. But I went after them not just because you need them—and to be perfectly clear, you beautiful woman, you do need them—”

  “I need all of you,” I corrected him softly, and his smile was at once brilliant and warm.

  “But I needed them, too. So did Andreas, even if he gets surly about it.”

  I laughed softly. “He’s not so surly now. I introduced him to my mother’s lab and her research. He also met her hologram. I’m afraid I left him alone for several days and he had to acquaint himself with all this research that he used to hate.”

  Oz searched my face. “And he doesn’t hate it anymore?”

  “No,” I said with a grin. “He absolutely loathes it. But I think he feels better about her. About what she tried to do and why she tried to do it. It gives him some measure of peace.”

  “And he had you.” Oz squeezed my nape, and I don’t know whether he tugged or I just leaned, but I abandoned my chair and slid into his lap. Arms around his neck, I clung to him as our mouths met. It was just breathing him in at first, the softest pressure of his lips against mine, the hints of coffee and something saltier—bacon. He’d had at least a slice of it.

  He brought his hands to cradle my face, even as the kiss deepened by inches, slow, almost tentative strokes of his tongue against mine, and then he released a sigh and I took a deep breath. The awkward imbalance righted itself, and tears flooded my eyes.

  I was not a woman prone to huge displays of emotion, but I couldn’t find it within me to try and hide this. I’d hidden so much, buried it away, told myself there would be time for it another day. Another time.

 

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