Chapter 21
#
#
#
"Westen briefed us after your meeting last week," Raines said.
"I assumed he would."
"Are your wife and daughter being threatened?"
"Yes."
"Recently?"
"Always, but since Glen . . . Mrs. Westen put his lights out," he said with faint humor, "it's escalated."
"Is that why you're coming in now?" Raines wanted to know.
"I saw Westen and his wife and realized that if they could break Anson's hold, even with the pressure we were exerting to complicate that, I had to try."
"If Mrs. Westen hadn't done what she did, this would be a different conversation."
"I'd still be Anson Fullerton's puppet."
Raines shrugged. "A saboteur puppet. Thank you for what you've done for all of us, my family especially. And for Axe, too."
His friend of long ago laughed then. "Axe didn't like it."
Raines smiled. "No, he didn't."
The inner door opened and an assistant looked out. "Your directors are ready to see you now."
#
#
#
"Pearce? Are you okay in there?" Jesse called from outside the master bath door.
"I'm fine. Go away."
The sound of something breaking that was heavy and glass echoed through the wall to the living area on the opposite side of the master bathroom.
"It sounded like glass breaking from the other room. Are you okay?"
When he didn't get a reply to that, he opened the door a crack. "Are you decent? Can I come in?"
He paused. "Pearce? You okay?" he asked again.
When he didn't get a reply he opened the door a bit more.
"Dani?"
Her continued lack of response made him open the door the rest of the way to see her standing there, wrapped in a white towel, her dark hair wet and tangled around her shoulders. The bandages on her shoulder were wet, too, and on the stone tile floor, broken shards of glass splat-clustered together. Amber liquid filled the room with a thick, musky sweet scent.
She was rubbing tears from her eyes with one hand, holding the towel together with the other. Her bare feet were trapped between splinters and chunks of glass. He stepped inside, stepped around the mess, lifted her up and sat her on the counter.
"Bet that was your favorite stuff, too," he said, avoiding her gaze while evaluating the extent of the glass perfume bottle bomb on the bathroom floor. That's when he saw her foot was bleeding. He reached for it, encircled it with his hand and pulled out a slender splinter of glass that had embedded itself near the ball of her foot, allowing the wound to bleed freely. Then he checked her other foot to see if she had a second injury.
He opened a deep drawer, grabbed a peroxide bottle then a small facial terry cloth, doused it with the disinfectant, and wrapped it around her wounded foot.
He put a finger up. "Just stay there."
With efficiency perfected as a college student who worked nights as a janitor, he retrieved his basic cleaning implements and had the mess cleaned up and the floor free of glass within minutes. Dani clutched her towel with her good arm and sat in humble and humiliating silence on the narrow counter between double sinks.
When he finished with the floor, he focused first on the wet bandages on the front and back of her shoulder by gently removing them. The incisions looked to be healing well, but to see her skin damaged like that had him holding his breath. He washed his hands then opened a drawer and pulled out basic medical supplies, an antibiotic salve and large, soft wound covering bandages.
When he was finished with the front and back of her shoulder and her foot, he put the supplies away and finally, when he felt able, looked into her face. Her eyes were still damp.
"I was just going to move it," she said. "I didn't mean to drop it."
"You lost the use of your dominant arm. You're healing. It's okay."
He avoided her gaze then knelt down to look at her foot. Satisfied the wound was clean, he tossed the cloth into the sink and a moment later, her foot had an antibiotic bandage applied to it.
She watched as he lifted the drain lever and poured a liberal amount of peroxide over the blood stained cloth he'd wrapped around her foot. "What are you doing that for?"
"One of my foster moms worked in a hospital lab. That's how she kept blood stains from setting when she laundered her uniforms."
Jesse could have bit his tongue. Except for Maddie, he usually gave himself a lot longer with someone before he shared anything personal. But it was too late, and Dani was so distressed by the situation in the bathroom, maybe she wouldn't remember.
He took a deep breath. "Let's get you down."
But when he reached to hold her waist and gently let her down on her feet, the pain in her foot made her wince, and she lost purchase on the towel she'd been holding as she stood. She couldn't reach for it fast enough, unintentionally baring one of her breasts. Blue eyes flashed to brown.
Then time inched forward as he looked down and cautiously picked up the end of the towel and brought it up, covering her, so she could hold it again. His eyes returned to hers. When he spoke, his voice was husky and thick. "Beautiful."
Then, something truly exquisite transpired, an exchange with the power to transform.
With his hands gently cupping her bare shoulders, he bent his head and touched his lips to hers. And Dani Pearce returned that kiss with everything she had hidden, buried and forgotten. She tasted every bit of Jesse Porter she could, and felt stunningly dizzy and deeply affected by her hunger for this delicious man. She wanted more, so much more. She was thankful Jesse's arms remained wrapped around her, enfolding her and keeping her upright because if they hadn't been, the heat of his body would have melted her into a very large puddle. And she had been cold for a very long time.
Slowly he pulled away from her, releasing his embrace, extending his arms, then carefully dropping his hands to his side. He took a step back, then another. She leaned against the back of the counter and felt her entire body burst into flames of embarrassment.
"You," he said softly, locking his eyes to hers, "are dangerous." And then he left, quietly closing the door behind himself.
She stared at the door and swallowed the lump in her throat. "And so are you," she whispered.
Jesse left the bathroom, left the bedroom and walked into his living area, shaking his head. Another thirty seconds and . . . no. He could not allow his mind to go there, no matter what his body wanted to tell him.
He'd learned self control with the opposite sex years and years ago as a teenager. He needed . . . he needed . . . something. He needed distraction. He needed his damned phone to ring. He thanked God and whatever stray angel was soaring over when it did, then pulled his battered St. Christopher's medal from beneath his shirt and kissed it.
He glanced at the phone. Saved by Sam Axe. And not for the first time.
"Jess, will you just come down here and let me in? Mikey and Fi aren't answering their phones. Glad one of you has his mind on something other than . . . oh, hell. Just come and let me into Fort Knox."
"Yeah, Sam, just hold on."
Jesse looked back over his shoulder to the bedroom door and debated telling her where he was going but didn't want to risk seeing her again when the only thing between them was a damp towel. As he left his townhouse, locked the door and walked across to the main entrance to allow Sam admittance.
He'd been talking to himself for years. "You are out of your ever-lovin' mind, Porter, or else you've lost it. Damn."
But it wouldn't matter.
None of the images of Dani Pearce that had embedded themselves in his mind's eye could be banished. Not the one where he felt the warmth of her blood cover his chest and mingle with his, not the one in the ambulance where her skin looked grey, or the one in the ER where it looked like she might die despite the number of medical personnel who surrounded her, working on her body . . . and not the ones where she was embarrassed or had tears in her eyes. And now this beautiful new one. "Out of your mind, Porter. You are just out of your friggin' mind."
He opened the security house door and indicated to the guard that Sam Axe needed clearance to enter the complex, and used his code to verify the authority to do so. The guard opened the gate and Sam drove in and parked his new insurance-replaced Caddy next to Jesse's insurance-replaced Porsche.
Jesse was feeling almost in charge of himself again by the time he walked to where Sam was getting out of his car with a stack of files. "Got some good stuff, Jess. Grab Pearce and come on over to Mike and Fi's. Maybe they'll be decent by the time you get there."
#
#
#
The meeting at Michael and Fiona's new townhouse had been planned earlier in the day when Raines called on a secure line to report the events in D.C. Sam had been pulling information from the MDFR arson investigators, and Jesse had been talking to the DEA. They agreed to meet at Michael and Fi's new place in Jesse's complex around dinner time.
Fiona's morning began with a shopping trip to a grocery store with Michael, who actually seemed to enjoy selecting food and coffee and things they'd would keep in their new refrigerator. By the time they returned, though, she begged off spending another day waiting for him at the office.
"The sheets and towels need to be washed first, and seriously, Michael, do you really think Anson is going to break in here? I should more worried about you."
When he kissed her good-bye, she wondered if this was something normal people did every day? What was the difference between normal people and doing something normal and them doing something . . . normal? Besides firearms and the chemistry of explosives?
What she enjoyed, though, was taking the sterile townhouse they visited yesterday and using plants and the things they'd purchased during their shopping trip last night and this morning to make the townhouse feel like a home. By the time she heard Michael's keycard beep and the front door unlock, she had wallowed in a day of domestic tasks she could never have imagined doing two months ago. Or imagined wanting to do two years ago.
He stepped inside, and looked around. Outside, the sun was shining but inside, the blinds had been turned to block light and the room was dark.
"Something smells good," he said as he walked over to her, tossed the keys on the table and took her in his arms.
"Dinner is staying warm in the oven."
"Mmmhmmm." After his lips left hers they traveled all over her face leaving kiss after kiss after kiss. "I've been thinking about this all afternoon."
She smiled. That surprised her.
"And privacy, Fi. No one listening in."
"Or seeing in," she said huskily against his throat while she methodically worked to unbutton his shirt.
"We have time." He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside.
"Yesssss."
And they did. Have time. And each other. And then, in the shower, they had each other again.
"You know what this leads to?" Michael asked as he used his towel to dry her back.
She turned with her towel to dry his front. "Pregnancy?" she said dryly.
He tossed his towel aside, took her face between his hands and looked into her eyes. "Happiness."
And then he kissed her once more. In a nanosecond, she learned that single word had the power to break her heart, heal it and enlarge it.
#
#
#
Fiona opened the door to a scowling Sam. He took one look at her and shook his head.
"You two need to get off this honeymoon thing you got going and get back to answering your phones."
She shut the door behind him. "You called? When did you call?" She walked over and picked up her phone which she'd left on the counter. Three missed calls, all from Sam.
"Sorry about that," she said, as she retrieved a beer from the refrigerator and removed the cap before she turned around to hand it to him.
There was an amused expression on his face when she turned around. He was holding her tank top, the one Michael had so recently removed from her, by one finger. She held out the beer then swiped the top from him.
"Newlyweds," he grumbled. "So where's Mikey?"''
"Behind you," Michael said. "So what did you find out?"
Fiona grinned at Michael as she went past him with the tank top.
Sam set his bottle on the table and opened a file. "Matches up with what Anson had in the Tampa warehouse. I have no idea how that's going to affect that woman's home insurance. Seems like the insurance company won't believe a private home would be a terrorist target. They keep trying to convince the investigator it was a gas line explosion so they won't have to pay for a new house."
"An MDFR investigator told you that?"
"Who is an old SEAL buddy."
"What else did you find?"
"Well, that's complicated. We need to hear from Jesse first."
"After dinner then," Fiona said, bringing a stack of plates and cutlery and napkins to the table.
"Dinner?" Sam teased. "You, Fiona Glenanne Westen, have cooked me dinner?"
"Well, not just you, Sam. It's for Michael and Jesse and Dani, too."
"You made it?" Sam asked. "All by yourself?"
"Yes, all by myself," she said dryly.
"Fiona Glenanne Westen cooks?" he shook his head. "This is something I could never imagine."
Michael went to let Jesse and Pearce in after he knocked.
"Jess, did you know Fi can cook?" Sam turned to ask.
"Yeah, she's pretty good at it, too," Jesse said.
"How would you know?"
"She used to fix dinner for me when Mike was first back with Raines."
"At the loft? Where was I?" Sam wondered. "I missed that?"
"Let's see . . . at that time, I think her name was Diana."
Fiona glanced over to see Michael pull out a chair and help Dani get out of the wheelchair so she could sit at the table. "I'm not an invalid, Michael."
"I know. You're healing," he said.
"Oh, yeah. Diana," Sam mused. "She was special."
Jesse set the table while Michael helped Fiona bring the food and opened the wine. Chicken, wild rice with a fresh tossed salad and conversation among friends. For a long moment in time, the worries of their work were suspended. With Sam and Jesse patting their stomachs after the meal, Fiona cautioned them to save a little room for dessert. Michael helped her clear the table and returned the dishes to the kitchen as Fiona pulled out her dessert.
Michael looked over her shoulder then stopped. "Is that . . . amber apple?"
She turned and smiled up at him. "I was thinking of you this afternoon, too."
Without regard to those behind them, he leaned down to kiss her, closing his eyes in remembrance, sheltering her with his body. The first meal they ever shared in Ireland was one she made for him, and the custardy apple concoction with meringue had been a treat she'd made specially for him, then worried he might not like it. An hour after that dinner in her flat, they made love for the first time, and nothing had ever been the same for either of them since that moment.
It was Michael, not Fiona who had trouble regaining composure in the moment that followed. He rested both palms against the counter top as she picked up the pie, turned around and smiled at her guests who where each showing signs of discomfort.
"Mum always said," she said, pulling out her Irish, "there's nuthin' better'n a wee bit o' sweet at the end of a meal."
She set the simple dessert down on the table. "It's an Irish apple pie."
Dani rescued the moment with the mundane. "Really? With meringue? Is this a family recipe?"
By the time Fi was halfway through her explanation, Michael rejoined her with the stack of dessert plates and forks, and everyone pretended the deeply emotional exchange they'd just witnessed between their host and hostess didn't happen.
It wasn't until an hour later, when Jesse and Sam were drawing the same conclusions about the DEA's interests in Anson's operation that Fiona looked over and met Michael's gaze.
And now she understood what he'd not yet told her today. He was leaving.