Still Waters (Greenstone Security Book 1) Page 35

I grinned, my own eyes welling. “Renewed motivation to stay breathing.”

  She glanced to the man grasping my hand, silently watching me with a quiet intensity that hurt to even half look at. “No, I think you’ve got enough right there,” she corrected.

  I squeezed her hand. “I’ve got more than enough.”

  The moment lasted for more than a moment, as all good moments do. Then it ended.

  Rosie snatched her hand back, wiping at her eye. “God, what am I, a girl or something? Too sappy. Plus, there’s an entire motorcycle club, your mom and dad, your sister and other hot guys I don’t recognize but approve of in a big way all waiting for you. I better go out and do the whole ‘she’s alive’ thing,” she said, mimicking the Dr. Frankenstein motion.

  I knew what she was doing. What she was hiding. Not all of it. Not even a lot of it, and that hurt in itself. But I could see why she was doing it. Hiding it.

  She’d fall apart otherwise.

  So, I let her hide.

  For now.

  “Just to be clear, you’re only going to the waiting room. No going,” I clarified, or more demanded.

  She nodded. “Of course. I’ve already taken up your old room. Polly is living in some loft that I’m almost certain is a front for a cult,” she said happily.

  I gaped at her. “You’re moving here?”

  She screwed up her nose, looking around the sterile room. “Well, not here exactly because hospitals creep me out, no matter how many hot nurses there are. Gray’s Anatomy was serious false advertising. But yeah. Watch out, City of Angels. The Devil has arrived,” she declared with a wink.

  I grinned.

  Then thought of Luke. The new one.

  The Devil indeed.

  “Okay, so you’re not leaving.” I said it more for my benefit than hers.

  “Nope. Not too far, at least. I’ll be back, I promise. See you never.”

  I smiled again. “Love you always.”

  Then she was gone. But not for good. Because I wouldn’t let that happen.

  Neither would Luke.

  But that was a story for another day.

  When I didn’t have a Keltan haunted by my ghost, or a sobbing sister, mother and brooding father at my bedside.

  It was hard. Recovering from a stab wound.

  And painful. The movies didn’t tell you about that. About the stiches and the scar and the fact you couldn’t reach over for a glass of wine from the sofa without excruciating pain.

  Pain I became very good at masking considering the mirroring of that pain on Keltan’s face every time I took a swift intake of breath doing such things.

  It was safe to say me getting stabbed and almost dying in front of him ramped up the protectiveness about… 1,000 percent.

  Luckily I didn’t have a trial to testify for now. Considering the man I was going to testify against was murdered while in transit to the US.

  Almost around the same time I was getting stabbed on the sidewalk in LA.

  Convenient, or inconvenient, considering two death orders had been made about the same time, at least only one was successful.

  Kismet.

  Keltan didn’t say much about it to me, muttering something about “plausible deniability,” when I asked. And then when I continued to ask, because that was my job and hell no would I not get an explanation—his eyes had gone hard and he’d given me his best measured badass look.

  “I told you, babe. I’ll become anything to keep you safe. Do anything to keep you safe. I did what needed to be done. Not gonna lose a wink of sleep over it, considering I’ve got you, warm, alive, breathing in my arms while I do so.” He paused. “And I’m not givin’ that shit a moment more of my oxygen because it’s already taken enough.”

  That, coupled with the ghosts of demons flickering in his eyes made me pause.

  So, I said nothing more.

  I healed. And I breathed. And I lived.

  Two months after our wedding, my baby sister, the hurricane, also got married.

  To a man she’d known three weeks.

  And because she was a hurricane, she did change her mind at my, Rosie’s, Keltan’s or Mom’s gentle suggestions that marrying a man who hadn’t even experienced you with PMS was not a good idea.

  You couldn’t reason with a hurricane after all.

  Though another hurricane, an undoubtedly more dangerous and fatal one was not happy about the nuptials.

  At all.

  Heath barely spoke at all during the period leading up to the marriage. And after.

  Then he disappeared, “on assignment,” apparently. Or doing some running so he wouldn’t end up behind bars for murdering the man who was married to the woman he had some feelings for.

  Serious feelings.

  “What kind of a stupid ass name is Craig?” Rosie hissed, looking over the background check I’d asked Keltan to do.

  I’d asked him, and he’d replied, “Already on it, babe.”

  I rose my brow in question.

  “Was on it the second she came hurtling into our place with a ring and a man who I didn’t rightly like the look of,” he explained. “She’s my family now. Because she’s yours. And no way in fuck am I letting my family get hurt.”

  Yeah, I loved him.

  I squinted at the paper, that was sparse and didn’t show anything about skeletons in Craig’s closet. I didn’t doubt Keltan had looked in every corner. He was the best. So, the lack of skeletons bothered me, as did Craig’s relatively unremarkable life.

  Everyone had skeletons.

  “It’s the name of the man my sister is marrying in one week,” I replied.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Dumb fucking name.”

  I nodded in agreement, giving my friend a sideways glance.

  She looked, walked, and talked like my best friend. But she was different. Different like the dark version of Luke who haunted these halls with his bulky form that had become bigger and less soft around the edges than it had been before.

  The eyes that watched Rosie retreat every single time they shared air.

  I’d compared them to a powder keg. This one was moments away from explosion. But moments were hard to measure.

  It was coming though, the explosion.

  We all could only brace.

  The wedding came, despite everyone’s reservations. Polly did what Polly wanted. So, Polly got married in the small rooftop on her loft apartment—of which I was vaguely worried was home to a cult—and wore a simple white lace dress with daisies in her hair, no shoes, and hardly any makeup.

  Happy girls were the prettiest, after all. Audrey wasn’t wrong.

  I just hoped that happiness lasted for a lifetime. For her sake and Craig’s.

  I watched her, dancing with a smile the size of Kansas on her face, twirled around so her white lace dress spun with her movements. I stood next to my father, leaning against his shoulder, reveling in the peace and safety that came with his presence.

  “I’ll always be jealous of that,” I said.

  Dad followed my gaze. “The fact your sister has successfully flashed her undergarments to the entirety of her family at her wedding?” he replied dryly.

  I grinned. “No. Her ability to dive into happiness, into life, headfirst without a thought, without a care. Like she doesn’t even know life can turn bad. Like she has no doubt in the world, that it would turn out nothing but good, despite first-hand experience to the contrary.” Laurie entered my mind. Then Polly’s haunted eyes standing beside my bedside two months ago. “I sometimes wish I was like that,” I whispered. “Not held hostage by my own knowledge of the world.”

  I looked to Keltan, dangling his beer between his thumb and forefinger, talking to Rosie. His eyes seemed to sense my attention, for they moved from my best friend to capture me in his gaze. Reminders of everything we’d gone through to get here were ghosts around me. How everything had almost been nothing because of those ghosts.

  Almost.

  But life wasn’t made o
f almosts. Life was made of moments, not the ones that took your breath away but the ones that gave you your breath back.

  Sometimes those moments were big, like when you said “I do” in a hospital bed after almost dying at the hands of a Columbian drug lord. Some of those moments were small, like snatched glances across the room that communicated a shared secret. And the promise of those moments, more of them, like when I presented Keltan with the sonogram photo nestled in my Prada—they were what life was about. Worth drowning for.

  I sucked in an even breath. A clean one.

  They might be worth drowning for, but I was certain I’d never drown again.

  Dad’s hand found mine and he squeezed tightly, watching the man who had just become my brother, who I’d met all of twice, snatch Polly into his arms. She threw her head back laughing with unrestrained happiness, the melancholy of the months before this big announcement long forgotten.

  For her at least, but I remembered. And I did not smile at the man twirling her around. I regarded him evenly, much like I had the two times I’d met him. Thinking about his car and the best way to make it explode.

  With him inside it.

  And make it look like an accident.

  Because I saw it. The trouble that lurked beneath the surface of those eyes. And I didn’t like it.

  So, I made plans.

  Dad’s eyes moved to Keltan, who had moved his attention from me and was also looking at Craig with a hard stare.

  He saw beyond the surface too. He always did. I knew he was thinking the same thing as me. Well, maybe not the exact same. He didn’t approve of explosions.

  Must be a New Zealander thing.

  My attention moved back to my father, whose twinkling eyes also saw beyond the surface. Who had done that since that day in the hospital and every day after that, to make sure my broken pieces were salvageable. So I could find my way to breathe with Keltan.

  My original hero.

  “Now, my little bug, why would you want to be anyone but who you are? You and your sister have always been different. She leaps without looking, loves without hesitating, and falls right out of it just as quick.” He watched the couple with hardened eyes reserved for a father who was ultimately certain no man would ever be good enough for his girl but with the grudgingly realization that he’d have to handle it despite that. “But you, my girl. Still waters run deep.” He leaned to kiss my head and then his eyes moved to Keltan, who was back to watching me.

  It was something he often did now. Watch me. When he couldn’t put his hands on me, his eyes were following me.

  I’d asked him about it, not unnerved by the gaze, but curious. It was intense. More intense than it had been.

  “Babe. I sat on the sidewalk, with you bleeding in my arms, literally watching the life drain from you,” he’d rasped, grip tightening on my arms. “That’s not something a man forgets. Ever. That’s something a man learns to live with. Only way this man can live with that is to hold you in my arms as often as possible, or put my eyes on you. So I can watch the life course through you. Remind myself that was all that was. A memory.”

  I gave him a small smile, and he smiled back, the small gesture filling me up.

  Dad’s gaze was much different than when he’d been glancing at Craig. The resolve was there, I didn’t think it would be possible for a father not to have that. A good one at least. But there was something else. A respect, perhaps.

  “Still waters run deep, bug,” he continued. “Not many men can get to the bottom of them. Nor do they deserve to. But you’ve got yourself a good swimmer there. One who is ready to give you the world.” He glanced to me, seeing through it all. “Though I think he already has.”

  I gave him a smile. “Yeah, he has.”

  The Sons of Templar

  Making the Cut

  Firestorm

  Outside the Lines

  Out of the Ashes

  Beyond the Horizon

  Dauntless

  Unquiet Mind

  Echoes of Silence

  Skeletons of Us

  The Vein Chronicles

  Fatal Harmony

  I’m going to be completely honest and say I was a total mess when I was writing this book. It consumed my soul, my sleep and my sanity. Never has a book done turned me quite this crazy. And we all know I’m pretty crazy already.

  So, to the people I’m lucky enough to have in my life – thank you. For weathering the crazy and supporting me and always being there.

  Mum. You’ve always been my biggest cheerleader, my best friend and my sometimes therapist. Thanks for trying to order me to stop drinking copious amounts of coffee. I didn’t listen. But I appreciate the courage it took to even try to say that to your zombie daughter. I’d never be who I am today if it wasn’t for you.

  My Dad. You’re not here with us but you’re the reason why I can shoot a gun, ride a motorbike, shop like a champ, and believe in myself. I miss you every day.

  Amo Jones. You continue to show me how lucky I am to have found someone who my crazy can play with. I know I would have gone off the deep end already if it wasn’t for you. Harley and Ivy forever.

  Andrea and Caro. You two ladies are so very special and your generosity and support is amazing. I’m so lucky I have you.

  This book wouldn’t be what it is without my wonderful team of betas. These special ladies helped to make this book what it is. Ginny, Franci, Amy, Sarah, and Judy... you are wonderful.

  Carl (with a silent L). Kismet brought Keltan and Lucy together and it’s done the same for us. I’m ready for this crazy thing called life as long as I’ve got you.

  And to you, the reader. Thank you. Thank you for reading my books. Thanks for every e-mail, comment, and review you give me. I treasure each and every one.

  ANNE MALCOM has been an avid reader since before she can remember, her mother responsible for her love of reading. It started with magical journeys into the world of Hogwarts and Middle Earth, then as she grew up her reading tastes grew with her. Her love of reading doesn’t discriminate, she reads across many genres, although classics like Little Women and Gone with the Wind will hold special places in her heart. She also can’t get enough romance, especially when some possessive alpha males throw their weight around.

  One day, in a reading slump, Cade and Gwen’s story came to her and started taking up space in her head until she put their story into words. Now that she has started, it doesn’t look like she’s going to stop anytime soon, with many more characters demanding their story be told as well.

  Raised in small town New Zealand, Anne had a truly special childhood, growing up in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. She has backpacked across Europe, ridden camels in the Sahara and eaten her way through Italy, loving every moment. For now, she’s back at home in New Zealand and quite happy. But who knows when the travel bug will bite her again.