Authors: Kathy Ivan
“Shh, honey, it's okay. You're safe.” Connor's precious face filled her desperate gaze and she swallowed down the fear enveloping her, breathing out the ragged breath she hadn't realized she held.
“Connor?”
“It's me, babe. Everything's going to be fine now. You're in the hospital.”
“Bethany?” Alyssa's voice croaked out the question, her throat raspy and dry. Connor filled the little plastic cup and placed the straw between her dry, cracked lips. She gulped down the water, starving for the cool refreshing liquid.
“The police have her in custody. She's trying to deny everything, but with all the recorded evidence on that camera of hers, plus several items implicating her in the serial killings with Mickey Trejo, there's more than enough evidence to put her away for the rest of her life. Plus, they found the body of the woman from the video she e-mailed me behind the building where she held you captive. I think they should fry her ass.”
Alyssa watched Connor's face as he spoke. Remembered the struggle he'd fought, the courage it took to stand back and not attack Bethany. She was evil through-and-through, nothing to redeem her now. But the girl she'd once been . . . Alyssa knew the loss of innocence, the wreck of that troubled teenager would haunt Connor for a long, long time.
“I think I remember hearing a shot when I tumbled backwards into Bethany. Did she hit you?”
Connor smiled, reaching forward to cup her unbandaged cheek. His fingers smoothed along her jaw line in a gentle caress, and she leaned into his hand, craving the touch and this connection with the man she loved. The feel of his hand, strong and caring, yet tender and protective, all wrapped in one made her feel safe. But mostly, she felt like she'd come home.
“I'm fine. The bullet winged Remy. Caught him in the upper shoulder.” Laughter tinged his words. “Man was he pissed. It's the second time he's been shot in the last year, both times when he was off-duty. Say's he's safer working as a cop; he never gets hurt on the job.”
“He's okay though?”
“Yes, he's already been released. He stopped by, checked on you, then he headed back to New Orleans.”
“And Molly? Bethany said she forced her to overdose on pills. Connor, is she . . .”
“No, sweetheart, the doctors say she'll be fine. I found her before the pills did too much damage to her system. She'll make a full recovery. Matter of fact, when I talked to her this morning, all she asked about was you.”
“I love her so much. If she'd died because of me . . .” Alyssa's voice cracked on the last word.
“Forget that nonsense. She's fine, Remy's fine. You're going to pull through this, too.” Seated next to her on the edge of the hospital bed, he scooted closer, his hip touching hers.
“I'm just thankful Gladys volunteered to stay with Gran while I went to find you. She's been a blessing in disguise this whole trip.”
Alyssa's brow wrinkled at his words, confusion across her face. “Gladys? Gladys who?”
“I don't know her last name. You know her, from the senior group. Short, curly red wig, really bright white teeth. She's a friend of Gran's.” Alyssa read the confusion on Connor's face, knew he didn't understand the tears trickling down her cheek at his words.
“What's wrong, hon?”
“Connor, Gladys wasn't on the bus. She couldn't have been. She died the week before we left.”
“But . . .” Connor stared at Alyssa. “I talked to her, several times. Right before the accident. In the hallway after we found Mrs. Spencer's body.” He paused. “Damn, she came to the hospital, said she'd stay with Gran. She knew I needed to be with you.” He grinned and the breath caught in Alyssa's chest. She'd missed so much time with him. Never again—not one more minute lost from this moment on.
“I guess she played matchmaker, giving me the swift kick in the ass I deserved.” Leaning forward he slid his lips softly against hers, a feather light brush filled with tenderness and longing but sparks tingled inside her at the brief caress. Forehead-to-forehead he leaned in close, eyes closed as his hand clasped hers.
“I'm so sorry, Lyssa. Bethany would never have targeted you if it wasn't for me. It's all my fault.”
“Connor, you're not responsible for what she did. She was a troubled girl and . . .”
“No, honey. Maybe if we'd told her the truth she'd have dealt with her father's death. Instead it became a festering disease, which drove her over the brink into insanity. That rests on me.”
“The decision not to give her all the gory details of what happened wasn't just your decision. Your entire station felt they did the right thing by sparing her the whole truth.”
Alyssa gripped his fingers, entwining hers with his and wrapping her other hand around them. The IV in her arm pulled and she grimaced but didn't turn loose. “Bethany's a sick woman but it's not your fault.
You
didn't kill her father.
You
did your job the way you trained every single day to do it. You performed your duties. More experienced men
including Cap
thought the danger was past.”
Connor pulled back enough to meet her gaze. Alyssa searched his eyes, and the regret and sorrow filling them tore at her heart. She'd give anything to ease the torment reflected in their depths but knew instinctively it would take time, patience, and all the love in her heart but they'd make it, come out the other side whole.
“I'm sorry I believed all her lies. My love should have been strong enough to withstand anything, yet I crumbled. She nearly won because I lost faith in my husband and what we shared.”
“We were both young and foolish, Alyssa. You shattered my pride when you believed those photos over my word. My heart took the blow. It was dented but didn't break. It broke when you left.” He leaned forward to brush his lips against hers again and Alyssa felt the fine tremor running beneath the surface as he held back, afraid of hurting her.
“Every beat of my heart is for you, Alyssa. Every breath that fills my lungs, every moment of happiness throughout each day, it's all you. With one stroke of your pen across those divorce papers—my whole world ended.”
Alyssa felt the tears welling up in her unbandaged eye, felt the tears despite her efforts to hold them back. Connor traced them away with a gentle brush of his thumb against her cheek.
“I never stopped loving you, Connor. In spite of the pictures, all the arguments, even our divorce. Never. The job in Florida was a godsend, because seeing you all the time in New Orleans, wondering whether the next time I'd see you there'd be somebody new in your life—it was more than I could bear.”
“There's never been anyone else, Lyssa. When I pledged my heart to you, it was forever. When we took our vows, spoke them before God and our family and promised to love each other for all eternity, I meant every single word. You're it for me, the beginning and the end. I promise I'll love you until the day I die and beyond. Forever.”
The pain was forgotten as Alyssa reached up with both arms, pulling Connor closer, crushing her lips to his. She poured all her emotion into the kiss, needing to show him he wasn't alone in his vows of love and fidelity. Her lips danced across his, opening to meet his with all the passion and desire filling her heart. Her tongue swept out and pressed along the seam of his lips and his parted with an answering groan, his mouth devouring hers, sensuous flames licking at the desire building between them. Their attraction remained instantaneous, like matches to gasoline; it always had been and now was no different.
Her small whimper of pain had Connor pulling back, concern written on his face. She licked her lips to moisten their cracked dry surface, tasting Connor on her tongue.
“It's okay, they're just sore from all the duct tape, but that kiss was definitely worth a little discomfort, trust me.” She grinned.
“The doctors say you'll be able to leave here in a couple of days. You can go home.” He paused and Alyssa waited, the knot in the pit of her stomach growing with each word.
With everything they'd been through the past few days, the emotional roller-coaster of highs and lows, where did they go from here?
“Come home with me, Lyssa. Back where you belong. We should be together. Always.”
She smiled. “Home. I like the sound of that as long as we're together. This time, forever.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Three months later, Las Vegas
C
onnor lounged in the padded red chair, the cushions conforming to his back. The green felt table beckoned its alluring siren song and he stared across the wide expanse at the dealer. A brand new deck of cards came into play. Alyssa and his grandmother, Molly, stood a few feet away, behind the red velvet rope cordoning off the lookie-lous from the players.
The Texas hold 'em poker tournament had eliminated player after player, whittling down each table until one winner from each table met at the “main” table for the big granddaddy tournament. Now only three players were left in the game. A single empty chair sat between him and his nearest competition. With the skills he learned from his Gran, Connor had played Texas hold 'em for the last two hours and his stack of chips rose and fell like the changing tides of the ocean.
Swiveling his seat around slightly to the right, he turned toward Alyssa, a hint of laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Last hand, honey.”
The other two men remained stone-faced and silent, waiting for the next hand. Connor turned back to the table and nodded to the dealer. His two opponents nodded their readiness as well and the shuffled cards skimmed across the green tabletop.
First one card, then another, dealt face down. The other players peeked at their hold cards, expressions blank as they barely lifted the corners of the cards enough to look at them.
Connor never touched his cards. A brief smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched the dealer turn three cards face up in the center of the table. Known as the flop in Texas hold 'em, the cards were spread in front of the dealer, revealing the queen of hearts, the ten of diamonds, and ace of clubs.
A man with salt-and-pepper hair and a hardened expression sat to the left of the dealer. He placed his bet and Connor called, sliding a stack of multicolored chips forward into the pot.
The dealer placed the turn card face up to join the three already played—ace of diamonds. So many possibilities and scenarios, two diamonds played, a possible flush. Two aces played, possible three of a kind.
Bets were placed, and Connor closed his eyes, listening to the casino noises around him. The clanking and whirring of the slots and video poker machines. The bells and whistles and shouts of excitement when somebody won. He tuned it out, used it as white noise, honing his concentration on the two cards in front of him. Taking a deep breath, a low inhale and exhale, he settled his focus, and gave a barely perceptible nod, raising the pot by five thousand dollars.
With a loud groan the older gent at the table folded, throwing his cards face up in disgust. That only left Connor and the hard-eyed stranger seated across from him.
One more card. The
river card.
It would make or break his evening of poker.
With a flourish, the dealer flipped up the river card, placing the fifth and final card onto the green felt surface. Lifting the edges of the two cards before him, the player across from Connor glanced at his hold cards, eyes narrowed before looking back at Connor.
Relaxed and feeling oddly comfortable in a situation where he should be sweating bullets, Connor instead felt cool and calm. Confident.
“Aren't you gonna look at your hold cards?”
“Nope.” Connor glanced at the five cards spread across the center of the table before the dealer. The final card—the king of diamonds. Possible flush, maybe three aces, possibly four. Or the biggest risk of all, pushing luck to the limit—a royal flush.
Standing, Connor reached forward and pushed all of his chips into the center of the table, beside the already played cards.
“This one's for you, Gladys,” he whispered. Looking back at Alyssa and Molly, he grinned. “We're All In.”
The murmur of the crowd watching the game rose, the air crackling with barely suppressed excitement. His opponent tried to stare him down, a fingertip tapping against his lips as he contemplated the stack of chips sprawled on the table, before glancing again at Connor.
With a laugh, he shoved all his remaining chips into the pot. “What the hell, I gotta see what you have. I call.”
Everything seemed to slow to a crawl as Connor's heartbeat finally sped up in his chest, the inside of his mouth so dry he could barely swallow. He could feel the beads of sweat on his forehead. This was it. The do or die moment. Eyes closed, he pictured a wonderful woman with a bright red curly wig, polyester pantsuit and fuzzy pink bedroom slippers and remembered this wasn't his moment at all.
It was hers
.
Here you go, Gladys
.
Your chance to prove you had what it takes to play with the big guns. Winner takes all
.
His opponent reached forward, picked up his cards and flipped them over, face up. Ten of clubs and the ten of spades. Combined with the showdown cards, Connor's opponent had three of a kind, a really good hand.
With a flick of his wrist, Connor tossed his two hold cards to the center of the table. There was a moment of stunned silence before the crowd erupted, chaotic shouts and spontaneous applause as well as whistles and wild hugs.
The ace of clubs and the ace of hearts. The cards shone a gleaming white under the bright lights of the casino.
Four aces
!
Alyssa rushed forward and flung herself into Connor's waiting arms. “You did it!”
“Congratulations, Connor.” Molly's voice reached him above the deafening din, and he bent forward to place a quick kiss against his grandmother's forehead.