Twins (13 page)

“How is that possible?” Tom demanded. “How obstructed were their sight lines?”

“We had two agents, gathering as much as they could through the bushes,” she said defensively. “But when the battle fell into view, they could not confirm if she was fighting different men … or if they were all the same man.”

“I don't understand—”

“And sometimes, Tom,” she interrupted. “I'm sorry … but sometimes … she seemed to be jumping at nothing. Or conversing with thin air.” Natasha quickly looked down at her coffee and took another long, slow sip.

Still hallucinating. His daughter was still being tormented by visions of God knew what. The thought of it brought excruciating pressure to the back of his head.

Each new report served only as another challenge to Tom's strictly enforced morality. Because he knew his brother had done something to her. Something chemical and inhuman. And Tom could feel himself crossing over into impulses much darker than just the
need to protect Gaia. He was beginning to share in his brother's need for vengeance. He shook it off as best he could.

“Where is she now?” he asked quietly.

“She did not come home last night,” Natasha said. “She spent the night at Ed Fargo's.”

Tom flashed Natasha a disapproving glare. He couldn't mask his disappointment with her. It had been less than forty-eight hours since Gaia had been
kidnapped
from that very location. Ed was Gaia's closest friend, and Tom respected that. He understood that she must have needed a true confidant and a familiar face very badly after all she'd been through, but Ed Fargo's apartment was far from a safe haven now. If Loki was looking for her, Ed's would be the first place he'd go.

“Well, you have to get her out of there,” Tom stated severely. He dispensed with the need for any further explanation. “You have to get her out of there today.”

Natasha seemed caught off guard by his harsh words. She bowed her head slightly and then straightened her posture. “I understand,” she replied. “Of course. I will do it this morning.”

“She needs to stay
home,”
Tom implored her. “With
you.
You need to earn her trust, Natasha. That's essential to keeping her safe.”

“Of course, you're right, Tom,” she said. Suddenly her eyes were overflowing with heartfelt contrition. “You are absolutely right.”

Tom lightened up his expression, hoping he hadn't been too hard on her. “I'm sorry,” he muttered to the tabletop, shaking his head. “I don't mean to take it out on you.” He turned back to her and looked into those overpowering brown eyes again. “You have to understand…. I've been trying for years to figure out the best way to protect her, and I just haven't been able—”

“It is
okay,”
she interrupted him.

Tom knew she had interrupted him just to spare him any further self-flagellation. That seemed to be the kind of compassionate heart she had.

She slid her coffee to the side and reached across the table, placing her gentle hands over Tom's. Tom felt his hands go rigid, just as his whole body had the night before when she'd touched his shoulder.

But this time he didn't pull away.

“I will try my best, Tom,” she said, her eyes charged with sincerity. “I will try to be as
motherly
as I can to her. I promise you. I want for her to trust me as much as you do. I hope …” She dropped her eyes to the table.

“What?” Tom asked, lowering his head slightly to regain eye contact. “What were you going to say?”

“I …,” she began, locking her eyes with his again. “I hope also that
you
trust me, Tom. You do, do you not?”

Tom looked into her eyes and wondered how she had done it. How she had managed to be an agent all these years and still have such a living, breathing
heart. There was no hardened facade, no cold, brittle membrane that blocked all her genuine emotions from being outwardly expressed. Tom had thought the “emotional wall” was practically standard issue at the Agency. It came with the badge and the gun. But somehow she'd avoided it. She really was a rare breed. Rare and disconcertingly beautiful.

“I do,” Tom stated simply, his eyes fixed securely to hers. “I do trust you.”

Natasha unleashed a bright smile that caught Tom totally off guard. It caused a most unexpected prickling sensation to run down the center of his chest. Some unknowable amount of time passed as the two of them stayed frozen in the exact same position.

Something about her smile … No, it wasn't the smile itself. But something about the way the smile made Tom feel reminded him so much of …

Tom suddenly tugged his hands out from under hers, rattling the two cups of coffee on the table as he cut the invisible adhesive between their eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Natasha uttered senselessly as she abruptly busied her hands. She smoothed her hair back and her dress down.

“No, no,” Tom mumbled uncomfortably, making unnecessary adjustments to his coffee cup. “N-No, I was just thinking …,” he stammered, looking anywhere other than at her. “I really think you'd better go pick up Gaia.”

“Yes, of course,” she replied, overlapping him. “Of course. I will do this right now.”

Natasha slid out of the booth and struggled to get her coat on quickly. “I will contact you the moment she's been secured.”

“Good,” Tom said. “Perfect.”

Natasha walked briskly to the door and quickly disappeared from the window. Tom turned back to the table and tried not to think.

IT HAD BEEN FIVE YEARS SINCE
this particular phenomenon had occurred.

Gaia had gotten fully accustomed to having no idea where she was for the first two minutes of any and every morning. It was an inherent part of her daily ritual: Wait for her vision to unblur, feel around the bed for clues, blind herself with sunlight or a bedside lamp until she could see the room, and then …
Right, still here. Same life, Gaia. Sorry, try again tomorrow.

But this morning was different. It seemed like for the first time in years, Gaia knew where she was from the moment her eyes had begun to open.

She was in Ed's bedroom. Resting her head on his chest. And she felt better.

So much better.

Maybe her fever had broken. Maybe she was through with her painful visions and nightmares. It was as if Ed himself possessed some sort of magical healing qualities. Why not? He'd found some miraculous way to bring back the use of his legs. Maybe he'd found some miraculous way to heal Gaia overnight while they were sleeping. She'd felt it from the moment she grabbed his shirt and lay down on his shoulder the night before. Her breathing had immediately begun to return to her. The nauseating, fearlike feeling began to subside. She began to remember who she was.

It was as if the rest of the world was on some mission to unravel her—to hammer away at her identity until there was no Gaia left in Gaia. But Ed always seemed to do just the opposite. Ed always seemed to be keeping her intact. Reminding her of who she was in her weakest moments. Letting her be who she was when she was strong. He was a healer. There was no other explanation.

She rolled her eyes upward toward his chin to be sure he was still asleep. She was extremely careful not to move her head. If she moved her head, then she might wake him. And then she'd have to move from this perfect position—his chest as her pillow and his hand firmly grasping her shoulder. She couldn't have him wake up and find her like this. It would just be
too obvious … too close. A sudden wave of agitation washed over her, constricting her chest and tensing up her hands.

What did that mean, “too close”?
What
would be too obvious?

Gaia … enough already. Your denial has reached joke status. You have an IQ on the genius level. You know what you're feeling. No amount of guilt or confusion is going to change what you already know.

She felt awfully tired of herself, lying so happily in Ed's embrace. Tired of pretending this thing hadn't happened. This change in her feelings for Ed. Ed had the courage to tell her everything he was feeling. Everything he'd always been feeling. He was the fearless one now. She was just plain chicken. That injection must really have worked. Because here she was, as safe, sound, and happy as she would probably ever feel, and she was too cowardly to move a muscle.

Maybe now was the time to test out a little bravery again. Yes. Now was the time to let herself give in to an irresistible impulse she'd been having since she'd opened her eyes. A small but dangerously telling impulse …

Absolutely. Why not? She had nothing to be afraid of.

Ed was still asleep.

She'd just do it very slowly and very gently.

She surveyed the landscape of his torso, checking twice more to be sure that his diaphragm was rising
and falling with the regularity of sleep. And then, as cautiously as if she were defusing a bomb, Gaia stretched her hand out wider on his T-shirt.
Here goes nothing.
She slid her fingers slowly across his chest, and then she grabbed on firmly to his side. Success. Mission accomplished. Now she was holding him. Now they were holding each other.

You see? There's really nothing “frightening” about this. Brave is easy.

Ed suddenly shifted slightly in the bed.

Damn. He's awake.

Gaia slammed her eyes shut and froze every muscle in her body, quickly faking as much fake sleep as she could.

Fake sleeping? Nice, Gaia. Brave. Very brave.

ACCIDENTS. HE COULD ALWAYS CHALK
it up to accidents and extenuating circumstances. Ed had awoken to his sunlit ceiling, the low-pitched din of New York morning traffic wafting through the window, and he'd realized that Gaia's head was now resting on his chest. But only because she was sound asleep.

Just an accident of sleep, he was sure. Another random occurrence that indicated no actual desire on Gaia's part. Like their one real kiss—just this anomalous moment born only out of heated and totally chaotic circumstances. Or her request that he hold her last night-another anomalous moment born out of her desperation and a very high fever. Never really an act of her will. Never simply because she wanted it.

It wasn't doing wonders for Ed's ego. Still, Ed did everything in his power not to move an inch. He didn't want to wake her. Even if her position was an accident, waking up with Gaia's head on his chest was still an easy number one on his Top Ten Stellar Ways to Greet the Morning. At least she was there and not gone. At least she was alive and not dead. At least she was safe and in his arms…. That was worth plenty, no matter what the reason.

Gaia shifted her hand slightly on his chest. It sent a wave of remarkable shivers down his spine.

Accidents, Ed. Just accidents …

Only her hand didn't stop moving. It spread out flat, pressing its fingers firmly against the center of his chest. And then it glided ever so slowly. Across the entire width of his torso, firing off every nerve ending from his throat through to his fingertips. And it was
still moving …
Her hand finally anchored just under his ribs, grasping firmly the muscles of his waist.

Unless Ed was hallucinating, Gaia had just caressed his chest and reached over to hold him. One very clear and concise thought erupted in his head.

That was not an accident.

No way. It was too slow. Too deliberate to be a midsleep flop of the arm. Too intimate to be some childlike teddy-bear-substitution maneuver. It was a clear-cut, undeniably
intentional
dare he even say
sexually charged,
gesture. Last night she'd asked him to hold her. But this morning …
she
wanted to hold
him.
And that was something completely different.

Could physical contact still be an anomaly after the third incidence? Ed thought not. The third time wasn't just a charm. It was one hundred percent
antianomalous.
Ed's heart rate doubled. A thick dose of primitive joy began to pulse through his veins in the form of pure adrenaline. He'd been doing everything humanly possible to stay completely still, but he couldn't help himself. His sudden rush forced him to shift slightly in the bed.

When he settled again, Gaia's hand had thankfully still not moved.

Wait. Was that a good thing? Why hadn't she moved at all? Was she still asleep? Oh, Jesus, if she was still asleep, then this was all meaningless.
Don't let her be asleep. Please don't let her be asleep.
He crunched his neck forward, trying to see if Gaia's eyes were still closed.

And they were. Sealed shut. Fast asleep. Ed's heart quickly sank down to somewhere under the bed.
Let it go, Ed. Just let it go.

She was probably dreaming. She could be dreaming about anyone or anything. She could be dreaming about Sam for all he knew. Still, he couldn't help watching her face as she slept.

HE COULDN'T BE LOOKING ANYMORE.
It had to be safe to cut the make-believe-sleep routine.

Gaia opened her eyes. And when she did, she was looking directly into the wide-open eyes of Ed Fargo. He was most definitely still looking. And although Ed might have been caught staring at her, Gaia had just been caught gripping his waist and feigning sleep. So busted. So tragically busted.

“You're awake,” she croaked.
Brilliant observation, Gaia.
She was sure she was blushing.

“You are, too,” he said. An impish smile spread across his face.

Gaia felt compelled to hide her head somewhere.
She racked her brains for some ludicrous explanation or excuse as to why she might be grabbing his waist. Why she might be pretending to be asleep.
My, aren't we full of bravery this morning?
The only thing was, after a few seconds longer in his arms and Gaia no longer felt like she needed to be brave. Excuses no longer seemed necessary. She began to feel quite unexpectedly … comfortable.