In Love and Rescue: When love is the perfect rescue... (12 page)

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 o
n 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 ab
out 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 behind 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?”

S
he 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.”

What s
he’d really wanted to tell him was that he seemed like the type that could make a woman scream his name while she gripped tufts of bed sheets between her fingers. The way that he’d talked to her on the boat, and how he’d described her as if he’d spent time poring over her face, had left her wanting him even more than that day in the suite. Considerably more.

“
Fine,” she gave in. “You cook and I’ll help.”

He searched her eyes to see if there was any semblance of her remembering the time she’d said the exact same thing after burning two
Cornish game hens for their one year wedding anniversary. After that incident, she’d decided to play the role of his sous chef instead, writing notes and measuring seasonings because she wanted to be able to prepare an actual meal for him one day. Ironically, although she could tell when a chicken was ready to lay, she had no idea what to do with the egg once she had it. Towards the end of their second year however, she’d actually managed to make a pretty solid beef stew.

“I’ll see you d
ownstairs in twenty?” He asked.

“Twenty,” she answered.

He released her from his grasp
and she walked backwards to the bathroom, holding his gaze until she was out of sight.

They enjoyed their dinner of perfectly seasoned pan-seared red snapper on the open patio, shared a bottle of white wine, and for a moment, it was as if everything had gone back to the way it had always been. As if they were simply on a vacation to celebrate another successful year in their marriage.

“You like it out here?”
Desmond asked, pouring more wine into his glass.

“The house or the island?”

“Both.”

“I do.” She looked at him. “Wish I was here
under different circumstances.”

He nodded and they
spent a few moments in silence.

“Why did you come for me?” She suddenly asked. “You said that you were sent to retrieve me from the island. Who contacted you?”

He drew a sip from the glass. “Your office.”

She fell silent once more.

“Something wrong?”

“
I’m not sure,” she replied. “Have you ever walked into a room for a specific reason, but when you get there, you forget what that reason was?”

“And then you try to walk backwards to see
if you can remember?” He added.

“Exactly. I feel like that. Like there’s something I’m supposed to remember, but I can’t pull on
it. It’s like, I know I booked the flight and came down here. I mean, I was in the suite and there was my luggage, but I don’t actually remember doing
it.”

Desmond’s heart thudded in his chest. “Do you think that maybe you’d been stressed out about something?
That Jarvis case was pretty high profile.”

“Yeah, it was.” She brought the glass to her lips.
“My team and I put a lot of man-hours into that case. I was dog tired by the end of it and although I’m usually not the spontaneous type, that kind of stress can change you.”

“
And did it change you?” He prodded.

“I’m not sure
. Because Jarvis was so popular with the public, after the trial, people started doing crazy things. Writing me hate mail. Following me on the metro. I’ve never had that much contempt directed towards me ever in my life. I come from this incredibly cookie-cutter family. We’re practically the Huxtables. The most drama that happened in my family history was when my grandparents on my mother’s side, with their well-to-do background, were abhorred at the fact that my mother had fallen for my Dad. He’s this wonderful, cheesy, bird-lover with a mother that they used to call Louisiana Red because of her creole lineage. After her divorce, she moved to New York with my Dad when he was nine to pursue a career in theatre. It didn’t turn out so well, so he ended up spending most of his life in poverty. Scholarships and hard work got him into NYU so that he could stay close to my mother, who actually hid her relationship with him until they were about a third of the way through college.”

She held out her glass and Desmond poured more wine
into the bowl.

“
But, like my Mom told me, she wanted to marry my Dad and married people weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. If you’re not comfortable enough to bare it all to that person, then either you’re not really in love, or you’re so in love that you’re afraid telling that person might drive them away. She chose the former, told my grandparents about my Dad, and although they huffed and protested, my parents have been married for forty years with no sign of stopping.”

A reminiscen
t smile flitted across her face. Desmond watched her and searched for any sign at all that she might make the connection, but there was still none. If talking about her parents’ marriage hadn’t reminded her of theirs, the odds of her remembering him were slim to none.

“Tell me abo
ut the long story,” she urged.

“What long sto
ry?”

“That you mentioned at Ivor and Eva’s. Abo
ut your love life. Who is she?”

He
drew a longer sip from his glass. “Who
was
she.”

“
Oh. Did she die too?”

He nearly wanted to laugh at the irony of the entire conversation. “No, we’re just not together a
nymore.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“You can. I guess you could say that I messed it up. I didn’t trust her enough where I felt comfortable telling her the truth about myself.”

Larke swirled the rim of her glass with her index finger.
“How did the two of you meet?”

“
I saved her life,” he started. “Well, kind of. She was crossing over K Street when some guy in a white Honda completely ignored the crosswalk and blazed through the intersection. I saw him coming and realized that she was so engrossed in her Blackberry that there was no doubt that he would hit her. So, I ran over, picked her up, and moved her out of the way. She fussed at first, at least until she realized what was happening. Then, when she looked up at me, there was something about her eyes. She had these beautiful, sparkling eyes that actually made me forget how to talk for a minute. Of course, my first glimpse of them had been in their angry state, but they flashed to apologetic in about three seconds. After that, she treated me to lunch.”

He looked up as the same, beautiful sparkling eyes that he’d been referring to stared back at him.

“So, how didn’t you trust her?” Larke asked. “Did she do something?”

Desmond shook his head.
“No, that was all me. The things I told you about with my mother, father, Curtis, Doug…I never told her any of that. That very first time we had lunch, the minute she opened her mouth, I could tell that she was kind, educated, and came from a good family. Honestly, I think I fell in love with her on that first date, as cliché as that might sound, because even after two hours, I didn’t want her to leave. But since she came from such a good family, I thought that if I’d told her about how I was raised, she’d never be interested in me. So, I made up an entire story about losing my parents at a young age and having to put myself through school by way of the military, which wasn’t entirely a lie. I did put myself through school, but I didn’t want this amazing woman to know about my struggle. My twisted past.”

“But you never know
if you don’t try,” she countered. “If that had been me, telling me that would have only made me more attracted to you. My own father had to pull himself up by the bootstraps to get where he is, so there’s nothing more attractive to me than a man who knows what he wants and works to get it. Maybe she would have felt the same way.”

Desmond’s gaze
lingered on her for a few seconds before he moved it to the dark body of water in the distance. “I’m beginning to understand that now. That everyone won’t turn you away because of your past. Funny thing is though, in a way, she does remind me of you.”