Bring Me to Life. Kira Sinclair

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СКАЧАТЬ of shiny, quilted blue.

      A plastic bag that most likely held her dress was draped over her arm. Another bag was slung over her shoulder, smacking against her thigh with every second step.

      Her steps were deliberate and silent. She stopped several feet away from him. Evan felt the space between them like the gulf of a river, the swirl of their history, her anger and his hope threatening to pull them under if either of them tried to bridge the gap.

      Snowflakes clung to her dark lashes, sparkling in the scattered light from the lamppost close by. She stared at him for several seconds before shaking her head. “Where are you staying?”

      “I don’t know. I didn’t stop long enough to figure that out, Tatum. The first chance I could, I hopped my bike and rode here.”

      She sucked in a deep breath. “The resort isn’t open yet. You could stay at the B and B, but it’s full of guests for Hope and Gage’s wedding. I suppose you could drive back to Charleston.”

      “What about staying at your place?”

      He watched Tatum’s tongue sneak out and sweep across her parted lips. The vein just beneath her jaw pulsed with tension.

      “Dammit,” she muttered, so quiet he almost missed it.

      “Tatum, we need to talk. I’ll sleep on the couch if that’s what you want.”

      Her mouth thinned. And then trembled. “If that’s what I want? What am I supposed to want, Evan? You’ve been gone for three years.”

      Swallowing the huge knot lodged in his throat, he opened his mouth to ask the question he’d been dreading since the moment he knew he was going to make it out of Colombia alive.

      It was the one thing he’d tried not to think about at all while he was down there—because any time he lost the battle, it would make him want to throw up. Even now, his stomach churned.

      He knew she hadn’t remarried. According to the intel he’d browbeaten a friend into getting him while he spun his wheels in Charleston, he knew no one lived with her. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t moved on.

      “Is there someone in your life?”

      “What?”

      “Are you dating anyone?”

      Her head snapped back. Her deep, emerald eyes widened. And then they narrowed.

      “I’m not sure you have any right to ask me that, Evan.”

      The slimy reptiles slithering through his belly began to quiet. He took a single step toward her, and when she didn’t counter with one backward, he took another and another until he stood right in front of her. Toe to toe, he stared into her upturned face.

      Her creamy skin was warm when he reached for her, running the pad of a single finger over the slope of her cheekbone.

      “What I want is to kiss my wife. What I want is to pull her into my arms and taste her mouth. Feel the silky, smooth texture of her skin beneath my hands. To finally experience the memories that kept me alive for three long, hellish, frustrating and devastating years.”

      Neck bent, straining toward her, waiting for the first sign she wanted the same thing, Evan watched a myriad of emotions flash through her eyes—longing, desperation, love.

      But then they were gone, replaced by a blank stare that was worse than even her anger.

      She brushed his hand away. “Well, what I want is to not have been lied to. To not have buried the last remaining person who mattered to me. I want to not have been left devastated and broken. So I guess we’re both going to be disappointed.”

       2

      GOD, SHE WANTED—desperately—to leave him to figure out how to get out of the cold night by himself.

      But she couldn’t do it. A heavy weight had settled right in the center of her chest, a ball of emotion and tears and hope and devastation.

      Walking away should have made it better. Embracing the anger flickering through her should have given her the strength she needed to protect herself from getting hurt—again.

      But less than three paces away from him, instead of relief flooding in, the pain and pressure had become worse.

      Evan had lied to her. Or he’d let the government lie to her, let her believe he was dead. She didn’t owe him a damn thing.

      The Evan she knew was ruthless and resourceful. If he’d wanted to get in touch with her he would have.

      Which should have made her angrier. Not sad.

      The sob she’d been holding at bay clawed at the back of her throat. No. She wasn’t letting it out.

      Opening the driver’s side door of her Mustang, she tipped the seat forward and shoved her bags into the backseat. Willow would kill her if she saw her crumpling the dress bag this way, but she didn’t have the energy to worry about her friend’s indignation.

      Turning, she bent to slip inside, intent on pulling the door closed.

      She would not look back at him. She would not look back at him.

      The words rang through her head like a litany, but apparently her brain wasn’t keen on actually following the instruction because her rebellious gaze strayed straight back to him.

      Oh, Jesus.

      And she almost doubled over at the pain lancing through her, an echo of the reaction she’d had when they’d told her he was dead. Why did learning he was alive hurt just as much?

      Even across the space of the parking lot, she could feel the heat of his gaze as he watched her. The familiar tingle that blasted across her skin. The physical reaction only he had ever been able to coax from her body.

      Damn the man.

      His body was strung tight, arms heavy with muscle crossed over his wide chest as his dark gaze probed her. To anyone else who cared to look, he appeared relaxed, but she knew better. She could read the tension whipping through him.

      Evan hadn’t followed her, but she knew, instinctively, he wasn’t giving up. Once her husband set his mind to something, he was relentless. Always had been, always would be.

      Those qualities had served him well in his work for Special Ops. Once he took on a responsibility, he wouldn’t back down or buckle under until the job was done.

      It was always something she’d admired...until that dedication had killed him. Or, at least, she’d thought it had.

      Her brain was scrambled. Her emotions bounced all over the place. She’d already been exhausted from a full few days of running Petals, arranging the flowers for the wedding and attending all the wedding activities before this mess had landed in her lap.

      What she really wanted to do was go home, climb into a steaming tub of fragrant water and soak away all her cares.

      But СКАЧАТЬ