One to Love (One to Hold 4)

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. “No!” She smoothed her hands on each side of my face, and I couldn’t help but reassure her.

My voice was low and strong. “I’m fine. I was out for a few hours. We took a few days, the ship’s medic was more than prepared.”

“Why do I feel like you’re holding something back?”

“Ahh,” I growled, dropping back against the pillow.

She was on me in an instant. “What is it?”

Slipping my palms to her beautiful face, I held her. Then I rolled her onto her back. I kissed her left cheek, her right cheek, her nose. I moved higher to her right eyebrow, her left, then back down. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

She flushed soft pink. “Are you going to tell me?”

I kissed her mouth once more, tasting her. “They want to give me an award—I think it’s a medal. They’re saying I saved every man’s life on the ship.”

“There were no women?” Her dark brow arched, and I laughed.

“No, and trust me, you’re glad.”

“I think it’s amazing that you’re a hero. I’m so proud of you.” Her voice was quiet, and I knew she was serious.

“Will you be my date to the award ceremony?”

“I hope to be your date to everything forever as long as we both live.”

When she talked like that, I couldn’t help my

self. I leaned down to cover her mouth with mine. I might never deserve the gift of this woman I was sent to protect on the beach one stormy fall night. The truth was, I’d spend my life doing my best to protect her, and to love her, and to try and prove to her I was the one to love. As long as she lived.

I smoothed my hands in her hair, thinking about what Anders had said. “I have a new idea for matching tattoos.”

The corner of her mouth curled. “Okay, what is it?”

“Have you ever heard of the Red String of Fate?”

The End.

Epilogue: “Always Faithful.”

Derek

The scene I left in Montana was heavy on my mind as I rode in the car from the Wilmington airport. Stuart was battling some serious demons, and I wasn’t sure Patrick and I were enough to help him beat them.

Leaning forward, I rubbed my palms over my eyes thinking of Melissa and Dex. I had my own fucking demons to sort out, and the more time that passed, the harder it would be to negotiate a compromise solution. If there even was one.

Picking up the folded USA Today from the black leather seat, I flipped through Section A, not looking at anything until a small, black-and-white photograph under the headline “Hero at Sea” caught my attention.

I pulled the page closer to examine the postage-stamp sized image. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. “What the fuck?” I whispered.

Slayde “Slayer” Bennett, former boxer-slash-ex-con apparently risked his life in a monster storm at sea to prevent the merchant ship Sea Empress from breaking in half. I quickly scanned the details. He’d been injured in the process, suffered a concussion, but was fully recovered. He received an honorary medal, an award of sorts...

What made me stop was the writer’s editorial slant in her last sentences. A murderer, someone who callously took another man’s life in a bar fight five years ago, went on to become a hero, to risk his life to save twenty-six crewmembers.

Leaning back in the car, I looked out at the changed scenery. I’d helped build the case against Slayer Bennett and Stitch Alana five years ago. Both professional middleweights, Slayer was in a rage after being passed over for an exhibition match, according to the story I’d put together. He and his buddy Stitch had gone to that bar looking for a fight. They’d waited for anyone to cross them. Blake Woods and Max Marconi had been the hotheaded suckers to follow their taunt into the parking lot where they’d fought a bare-knuckle street fight they were destined to lose. A fight to the death.

The court psychologist spoke for Slayer. I was wrong, she’d said. She argued he suffered from intermittent explosive disorder, whatever the fuck that was, and needed anger management therapy. He could be rehabilitated, she’d said. He was the product of an abusive home, an alcoholic father. I didn’t give a shit about any of that. He’d broken the law, taken a life, and he had to be punished. Eye for an eye.

All of it was so long ago. Before I’d ever met Melissa.