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Chapter Ten

L exi listened to him talk for a long time.

It was as if the floodgates had broken, as if once he started, he had to tell all of it, right to the end.

He told her about his last conversation with his wife Wendy, and how Darren, his boss and best friend, had stood by him afterward.

Darren had never doubted him, even when his one-time friend, an agent named Stryker, had suspected him of being involved in the murder of his own family.

She’d stretched out on the bunk beside him at some point, laid her head on his pillow. “How could this Stryker person possibly have suspected you?” she whispered.

“The obvious reasons. It was a bomb. They’re my specialty.”

“But your own family …”

He stroked her hair, and she realized that she now lay in the crook of his arm with her head on his chest and her arm around his waist.

“Stryker knew Wendy and I only married because of the pregnancy.”

“You didn’t love her?”

“I did,” he said quickly. “Just not the way …” His words trailed off, and he tried again. “We were friends, good friends. Things got out of hand once, when we were both feeling lonely and drinking a little too much. Wendy got pregnant. So we got married.”

“But it was working out,” she guessed.

“Yeah. Kids have a way of bringing people closer. Two years in, we decided to give Justin a sibling, and Jackson came. It’s hard to explain it … but you’ll know what I mean someday when you have children of your own.”

That hurt. It hurt beyond belief, but she swallowed the pain, fought it into submission. Talking would do Romano a world of good. She wasn’t about to change the subject.

“How did Stryker know about how things were between you and your wife?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“He was in love with Wendy himself. Hell, sometimes I thought she might have wished she’d married him.” He lowered his head, hiding whatever crossed his face.

Lexi couldn’t imagine any woman falling for another man if Romano was the competition.

“She never said so, though. Never did a thing to make me think that.” His voice was sleepy. Long pauses came between his words. “She was too kind to risk hurting me … and she was loyal.” His hand stilled on her hair. “A lot like you,” he said. It was almost a whisper.

The last pause drew out. In a few minutes, she realized he’d fallen asleep. Exhausted maybe, from the sudden release of such long pent-up emotions. A soul-deep sleep, she could tell. His chest expanded, lifting her head with his deep inhales.

She sat up, staring down at his relaxed face.

“The only person to blame for what happened is White,” she whispered.

“You did your job. You did what you were supposed to do.” Maybe he’d hear her whispers.

Maybe they’d get through. “Your family’s at peace.

You’re the only one in hell. You need to see that. ”

His eyes were still closed, his breathing deep and even. He slept as if comatose, and she thought it was his body’s response to the emotional stress of sharing his past—the past that had almost destroyed him.

Lexi didn’t imagine he’d ever released any of the rage he’d been feeling over the murder of his wife and little boys. Maybe he’d never talked about it before.

But he had now. And she was glad.

She slipped silently away from him, pausing to pull the covers over his still body.

She ached for what he was going through, but she also knew that his past was coloring his judgment of the present.

There was no danger in going to the house.

There were no men hiding there waiting for her return.

Not when White believed they were in New York right now.

Even Romano had admitted the chances of such a thing were slim. But he was being overly cautious.

And it would be kind of ignorant of her to think any of that caution was personal. It was fear of failure that made him so careful. He was afraid another death would be added to his list of imaginary sins. He was afraid of what that would do to his soul and maybe even to his mind.

But there was no danger.

She needed to go home, and her reasons went way beyond her desire to make sure Jax was all right. Although, her cat was among the top three.

Romano wouldn’t understand any of those reasons. She wasn’t sure she understood them herself, entirely. But she had to go back. There were some things she needed to think through and she couldn’t do that here, with this wounded hero and his pain so close, so reachable.

She had things to work out, things about herself and her relationship with her father.

Things she hadn’t wanted to delve into before, because they were too painful.

But it was time, she realized. It was past time.

And the only place she could analyze and dissect those things was back there at the house where they’d spent the last days of his life together.

The place where her memories of her mother shone most brightly.

The place that had become her haven and her heart. And of course, there was Jax.

She closed her eyes and turned away from Romano, silently apologizing for what she was about to do.

But she wouldn’t be gone long enough for him to wake up and worry.

She was just going to get close enough to the house to assure herself no one was there.

A ten- or fifteen-minute walk. And in the morning, she’d tell him what she’d done, and what she’d found, and he’d stop being so stubborn about going there.

Hell, who was she kidding? If it looked safe, she was at least going to feed her poor cat. And scoop the litter box. And make sure he was warm and safe. And maybe pet him for a little while.

She guessed she’d better leave Romano a note, just in case he woke before she returned. She scribbled on a scrap of paper and left it on the little table.

Making barely a sound, she picked up her clothes. She pulled on a pair of the heavy socks he’d bought, and then one of the sweatshirts. She added one of the heavyweight hoodies he’d found at Walmart, too, and then topped that with his jacket. She took the flashlight, as well.

On tiptoe, she slipped into the front of the RV and then out the front passenger door, rather than using the one in the back, where he’d be more likely to hear or feel the blast of wintry air on his face.

She climbed down, into a surprising depth of fresh snow, and closed the door with extreme care, wincing at the noise when it latched.

And then she stepped away from the camper, stretching her arms out to her sides and inhaling deeply of the clean night air.

Snow fell softly but thickly, dusting her face and clothes.

It was colder than it had been earlier. Quite a lot colder.

It wouldn’t be a problem, though. She could find the house blindfolded.

She took a step, then stopped, blinking at the unfamiliar surge of feeling that last thought had evoked.

She felt strong and sure of herself, far more so than she had felt before her adventure with Romano.

The time she’d spent with him had changed her in a significant way. It had awakened something in her.

She glanced back at the camper, remembering the way he’d looked lying there, asleep and drained, and even a little vulnerable. She thought she was changing him, too.

Romano dreamed of his sons. Jack was playing in a square patch of grass, his cherub cheeks bathed in golden sunlight.

Justin was running around him, arms out, making airplane noises, swooping and diving at his little brother and making him giggle even harder.

He heard their laughter, saw the sparkle in their eyes.

Then he saw himself and the vision became a memory. He was running and the boys got up and ran with him. He’d been teaching them how to play football in the back yard, the weekend before …

He stopped thinking and just looked, watched the scene unfold in his mind’s eye and devoured every second of it.

It had been so long since he’d been able to see the boys like this, alive and happy.

So long since he’d been capable of or willing to remember, because the pain of remembering was more than he could bear.

He’d kept the memories buried, sealed. But now, it was like being there again.

So real. The redness of Justin’s plump cheeks and little Jack’s cupid’s bow lips, and the way the wind ruffled their dark curls.

The comic size of a regulation football when clutched in the small hands of a four-year-old.

“Boys, time to come in.”

He turned at the sound of Wendy’s voice. She stood at the back door, smiling as the kids ran toward her, both begging to stay out just a little longer. It was such a familiar scene, one that had played out a thousand times in real life. But it didn’t have the feel of a memory anymore.

Smiling, Wendy granted them an extra half hour in the back yard. They raced back to their game, and automatically Romano started toward the back door. He had to talk to Wendy. There was something …

“You called them inside,” he said.

“They asked for more time.”

“Yeah.” Romano smiled. “They always ask for more time.”

“And I always give it to them.”

He started up the back steps to go inside. He could smell the lasagna baking in the oven. Wendy caught his gaze and shook her head. “You need to wake up now.”

He frowned, saying nothing, just staring, confused.

“It was my time, not yours,” she said softly. “And it’s not Lexi’s time yet, either. She needs you. They need you.”

He tried to argue, but when he opened his mouth, the words that came out had no form, no substance.

“It was my time, not yours,” Wendy repeated. “Accept it, and go on.”

And then it was as if the lights went out. Blackness descended, engulfing everything. He couldn’t see Wendy anymore, or the house, or the yard. He couldn’t hear the voices of his sons. There was only darkness, and the unearthly howl of the wind.