SEALed With Love (DiCarlo Brides book 2) (The DiCarlo Brides) (7 page)

“Let me help,” Sage said as she set the last of the dirty dishes next to the sink of hot soapy water in Joel’s kitchen a few days later.

He shook his head. “You cooked, I clean up.”

Sage opened a few drawers until she found his stash of kitchen towels. “But you bought the food. I’ll dry.”

He smiled. “Fine, have it your way. Did I mention dinner was delicious?”

“A couple of times, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”  They’d eaten together before—dozens of times over the past months—but suddenly she felt shy and uncertain. Then again, she’d always respected his demand for privacy before, but tonight she planned to push a little. “You have a picture on your mantle.” She’d picked it up earlier and had the impression of him holding and studying it.

 He focused on the plate in his hands. “That is a traditional place to put them, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s just that you don’t have any others in your house and your apartment in LA was as bare.” The fact that he would bother to display a framed photo of himself and another SEAL meant it was important to him. “Who is it?”

When he didn’t answer, she tossed the towel to the side and shifted to face him, resting her hip against the counter. “Is it really asking so much to get some basic information about you? I hardly have a childhood secret you don’t know but you never talk about yourself.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You still have a secret or two I haven’t managed to unearth?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

Joel smiled. “Fine. It’s not like it’s confidential. Wade was my bunkmate at boot camp and we dragged each other through all of our training classes and into bud/s. His wife, Trudy, sent me the picture a couple of days ago.”

“So he’s a close friend?”

“The best. He’s saved my hide more times than I can count, and vice versa. I’d walk barefoot across the Sahara to help him out, and I know he’d do the same.”

Sage was hurt that he kept most of his life a secret. She stared at her hands. “You never talk about your SEAL days. I thought special forces guys were supposed to be all braggy and talkative, even if they had to tell their stories with significant editing for national security reasons.”

“Most guys do.” Joel finished the plates and glasses and moved on to the pans. “I don’t feel the need to brag.”

She studied his face and decided there was a lot more to it than that. “You’re purposely trying to shut me out. You don’t want me in your business.” She swallowed and nodded, picking up the towel again. The pain of knowing he wouldn’t share any of himself with her cut deep, but she would deal with it. She was a big girl.

“It’s not... Look, I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“No, well you do a good job anyway.” She refused to look at him as she put the plates away and moved back to the silverware. “I’m sure it’s safer that way. You don’t risk that I might reject who you are if you keep it from me, and if you push me away, it’s nothing personal when I don’t get too attached.” Sage knew enough about human behavior to understand that. She had to believe it was why he kept the distance between them or she would curl up and cry.

“It’s not like that.” His voice was low, exasperated. “And we all have our hang ups. What’s the deal with you and your terror of guns, anyway?”

“You’re deflecting.” But Sage already knew if he didn’t want to discuss it, he wouldn’t—she counted herself lucky that he’d told her anything about Wade—even those spare sentences.

“Right back at ya.”

“Fine. You’ve met my mom. You know I was raised to believe in peaceful solutions above all else. Using a gun goes against that in the worst way. I’d rather take my chances.” Except she wasn’t entirely sure that she believed her words; being held at gunpoint had made her feel helpless.

“Not at the risk to your own life. There’s no peaceful solution to this, Sage.” Joel touched her arm and turned her to face him, though she still didn’t meet his gaze. “He moved a thousand miles to be with you; he’s not going to leave you alone if you just ask him to. Obsession is a scary thing.”

Her stomach clenched and her hand curled around the saucepan handle as she tried to beat down the panic the thought raised in her. She jumped slightly when Joel’s hand slid up her arm to her shoulder.

“Hey, take a deep breath, you’re safe here.” He removed the towel from her hands, then led her to the barstool—his place didn’t have a dining table despite plenty of room for one. “I didn’t mean to freak you out, but we have to be realistic. It’s best to be prepared. Hopefully you’ll never need the pistol I bought for you today, but if you do, I want you to have it, and I want to be sure that you can use it safely.”

“I don’t think I can ever shoot someone, Joel. Not even if my life is in danger.” Dread accompanied her rapid heart rate and it became difficult to breathe. She hated feeling this way.

“Sage, look at me.” He turned her to face him, his dark eyes boring into hers. “I’m going to teach you how to use it because I know that you won’t unless you have to. You won’t go off half-cocked and do something stupid. It matters to you. Killing is not something to take lightly.” His voice softened. “I’ve done it before, and I won’t hesitate to do it again to protect you, but there’s a price in your soul, and I never want you to have to pay that.”

His voice and his gaze steadied her, made her breathing loosen and her heart speed for a different reason. She’d never had these panic attacks until the stalker started contacting her, but Joel had a way of working her through it much faster than she could do alone.

“So why do you want me to learn?”

“Because when it comes down to it, living is still the better option. If you’re left with no other choice, I’ll help you cope. I’ve been there.” He pulled her close and she buried her face in his chest, soaking up his comfort. “But you have to live.”

Sage wouldn’t think about the possibility that she’d
need
the practice. But when he was protecting her, helping her, she could deny him nothing. “Okay. I’ll let you teach me.”

He released her, shifting away to re-establish the distance between them. She sighed, knowing the moment of tenderness was over as he climbed back in his shell—out of her reach.

Joel ran down the hotel halls looking for Sage. The corridor seemed endless as he flashed past door after door. He could hear her screams for help and the familiar ratta-tat-tat of a machine gun in the background. Through a window he saw the coast of India where one of his unit members had nearly died when his crew came under fire.

The screams ceased and he just knew the man had killed her, then rounded a corner to find Sage tied to a chair, terror in her eyes and a masked man holding a knife to her neck.

He woke with a start, breathing heavy and his Glock in his hand, training it around the room in search for the enemy—who wasn’t there.

He slumped back against the pillows, barely able to draw breath through the terror and adrenaline pumping through his system. “It was just a dream,” he said aloud, to hear himself speak. The house was too quiet. He needed a dog or something to break up the monotony.

He dragged himself out of bed and down the stairs to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of cold water. Maybe if he woke all the way, he’d be able to reset his brain and go back to sleep.

Or maybe not.

The dreams used to be all about his days in the SEALs, but now they were mixed up with Sage and her family, the danger they’d been in, the threat he felt, even though he had no idea which way to look. She had become important to him; he couldn’t let anything happen to her, so she got mixed up in it all.

The phone rang and he snatched it up, adrenaline pumping through him again as he recognized Sage’s ring tone. “What’s wrong?” he barked out.

“I was going to ask the same thing. I had the feeling that you were upset and I should call you.” Her voice was light and calming.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m fine, just a little on edge. What are you doing up at,” he checked the stove clock, “two a.m.?”

“Couldn’t sleep. This whole thing is making me jumpy. I decided to make a cup of tea.”

Joel moved to his computer and clicked through to the cameras in the main areas of the house. There were some in the bedrooms too, but they were on a separate loop that could only be accessed from inside the house to ensure privacy unless they had an incident.

He watched her cross into the kitchen wearing boxers and a skimpy tank, rumpled and beautiful as a siren. Closing his eyes, he turned from the monitor, feeling a little like a peeping Tom even though she knew about the camera. “Sorry to hear that. You want to talk about it?” He wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to say yes or no.

“Nothing to talk about really. I’m just paranoid and edgy again. I’d gotten used to not feeling that way.”

He glanced at the monitor and saw her dispensing hot water from the cappuccino machine, then select a tin of one of her home-made tea blends. The moves were graceful and economical, as always. “I know. I wish it could be different for you.” More than he could say.

“I’ll deal. And how about you?” she asked as she packed one of her plethora of tea balls with the loose tea. “I called because you were upset.”

“That’s one weird sense of radar you’ve got.” For a moment he almost wondered if she had cameras in his place. “But it’s fine. I’m better already.” And she was partly responsible for that. Watching her, talking to her, soothed him.

“Good. Then I’ll drink this and go back to bed. Get some sleep if you can. Tomorrow’s another long day.”

He smiled at her authoritarian attitude. “Sure thing, boss. Good night.”

She reciprocated and hung up. He watched her take her first sip of the tea, then closed down the program before he gave in and watched until she returned to her room.

He swallowed half the icy cold water in one go, then rubbed the bottle against his brow, thinking about the dream that had woken him. He’d been dealing with nightmares for years; why did these seem so much worse?

“I really don’t want to do this. I’m not going to carry a gun. You know people who don’t know what they’re doing usually end up with the gun turned back on them,” Sage protested when Joel pulled up to the shooting range. This was not how she wanted to spend her first afternoon off in weeks—particularly since it was her birthday.

“Which is why you’re going to learn how to use a gun right.” Joel got out of the Range Rover and circled to open her door.

When she gave him a pleading look, he lifted his brows. “Do you really think that’s going to work on me? Come on.” He took her hand, his touch gentle, yet insistent.

Sage pressed her lips together but followed him. She wasn’t going to carry a gun, but it wouldn’t hurt for her to know how to use one. Especially since he was Mr. Weapons.  She’d caught a glimpse inside his gun safe the previous month—he had a whole arsenal.

He handed her a bag from the back seat, then removed a long case.  When she gave him a hard look, he took her hand and led her over to the bench that had been set up a little way back from the targets. “We’ll go through the basics of loading ammo, and practice shooting.” Joel pulled out a box of bullets and set them on the shelf, then removed the clip and showed her how to load it. He had her empty and refill the clip, then cock the top to load the first bullet. “Now you have one in the chamber, even if you drop the clip, there’s still one in the gun, so you need to be careful to make sure it is totally unloaded if you don’t want to shoot someone accidentally.”