They should have had a life together, damn it. Instead, he’d lost two entire years. He told himself he just had to see her, one last time, and then maybe he could finally move on. Part of him suspected he’d known that was a lie even before he’d hopped a plane to Chicago.

  She hadn’t been difficult to find. He’d gone first to the hospital, hoping to see her arrive for work. He’d actually watched her from the parking lot, while sitting in his rental car, feeling like a creeper yet unable to help himself.

  The first sight of her, striding across the pavement in her nurse’s scrubs, had stolen the breath from his lungs. Carly, his Carly. Seeing her, he felt alive for the first time in two damn years.

  He must have told himself a hundred times that he needed to go, get back on that plane and fly to Denver or LA, somewhere far enough that he wouldn’t be tempted to disrupt her life. As far as she knew, he’d died in Baghdad two years ago. Maybe it was best to let things stay the way they were.

  Except his heart, that traitorous thing that still beat strong and sure inside his chest, wouldn’t let him. Somehow, he’d managed to stay away from her for three entire days, revisiting all their old haunts, hoping he’d run into her. To his utter disappointment, he hadn’t.

  Instead, he’d started watching her house. He told himself he just wanted to be certain she really was happy and, most important, safe. He’d learned about her father’s and uncle’s murders—in fact, that had been one of the major factors in his decision to check on her in person. If anything happened to Carly, Micha knew he’d lose his mind.

  And then he’d been standing on the sidewalk down the street from her house, trying to decide whether or not to knock on her door, and she’d come out, clearly taking a walk and enjoying the beautiful spring day. Unable to resist, he’d begun trailing after her, taking care to keep himself hidden.

  Until he’d given in to impulse and stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight. And if that wasn’t a metaphor for the part she played in his life, he didn’t know what was.

  Now, moments after making love, she’d looked him in the eye and told him she was meeting her boyfriend. He’d swallowed his pride and asked her not to go, partly because he had a lot to tell her, but mostly because he couldn’t stand the thought of her with another man.

  Whatever he’d expected when he’d found her again, it hadn’t been this. And while he knew he really had no right to feel betrayed, he did, anyway. The only thing that tempered those feelings was imagining how Carly must feel, believing him dead these past two years, only to find out he wasn’t. Talk about hurt and betrayal.

  Back at his hotel, he took a shower and got dressed, trying to decide where to go for dinner. Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria sounded perfect, even though it, too, had been one of the places he and Carly used to go back in the day.

  His cell phone rang just as he got into his car. Carly. His heart skipped a beat. He’d imagined by now she’d be having a meal with her boyfriend.

  “Do you have any time this evening to talk?” she asked, defeat tingeing her voice. “It turns out my date tonight was canceled.”

  While it might be wrong, Micha allowed himself to feel relieved satisfaction. “Sure,” he replied. “In fact, I was just about to drive up to Lou Malnati’s. Do you want me to pick you up?”

  She went silent while she considered his invitation. In his mind, he could see her, no doubt pacing while she tried to decide if their talk should be in public or not. In the end, the lure of deep-dish won out.

  “I haven’t been there in forever,” she said. “And since I haven’t eaten, pizza sounds great.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he told her. He couldn’t help but feel optimistic, not only because she was open to sharing a meal with him, but because she was also willing to hear him out.

  He pulled up in front of her bungalow and parked. Carly came out before he even had time to kill the engine. Though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen her last, just the sight of her had his heart beating faster.

  “Hi.” She got into his rental car, glancing sideways at him. “I have to say, it still feels really weird to see you.”

  “Really weird isn’t the reaction I’d hoped for,” he countered.

  Though she smiled faintly at that, she didn’t reply.

  Navigating Chicago’s traffic felt comfortable, almost as if he’d never left. Staring out the window, appearing lost in thought, Carly didn’t talk for the rest of the drive.

  He knew better than to prod her. He’d let her go at her own pace.

  She waited until they’d mostly demolished a large pie before sitting back and crossing her arms. “Explain,” she demanded. “All of it, especially how you could allow me to believe you were dead.”

  Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “In the military, I worked in special ops. My job was to gather intelligence.”

  “Like a spy?”

  “Sort of.” He tried to keep his voice expressionless, to recount the story as if it had happened to someone else. “When I left you to go on that last mission, I was captured by a terrorist cell. They imprisoned me for six months.” He decided not to mention the torture. Even now, he could hardly stand to even think about the things they’d done to him.

  “Six months.” She winced. “That’s a long time. Did you escape or were you rescued?”

  “They sent in a team to get me out, at the risk of their own lives.” If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the gunfire, smell the smoke, hear the urgency in the man’s voice who’d cut him free. There’d been shouting and smoke, ducking and dodging, as he’d tried to run on legs that could barely stand.

  With his rescuer’s help, they’d made it to the waiting chopper, which took off the second he’d been shoved inside.

  They began to climb, amid heavy gunfire. Micha was in bad shape. He already knew that, but the expressions on the faces of the medics who began tending to him told him it might be worse than he’d thought.

  And then they were hit.

  Somehow, the chopper pilot had kept them aloft, taking them out of enemy territory. When they’d finally gone down, initial reports had indicated no survivors.

  “I was badly burned and my back was broken. Some locals found me, unconscious, and got me to a hospital. I didn’t have my dog tags and couldn’t speak, so no one notified my commanding officer.” He met her gaze, his own unflinching. “That’s why you were notified of my death. I’d listed you as kin along with my parents.”

  Expression troubled, she nodded. The compassion in her bright blue eyes warmed his heart. “How long were you in that hospital before you were able to tell someone that you were an American?”

  “I’m not sure. Months, I know. I was in and out of consciousness, they said. They did surgery and tried to patch me up as best they could, but no one believed I’d ever walk again.”

  Carly reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “But you proved them wrong.”

  “I did. But not until I’d recovered enough to insist they notify the US base that I was there.” In all this dark retelling, he could now offer the one bright spot in those terrible times. “Turns out I wasn’t the only survivor of that chopper crash,” he said. “Andy Shackleford, one of the team who’d rescued me, made it, though he lost his leg. And the medic who’d been taking care of me was also found alive. He had burns, too, and some broken bones, but all in all, he was in much better shape. Of course, he hadn’t been held captive for six months, either.”

  Across from him, he could see Carly struggling to come to terms with what for her seemed like a complete rewrite of history. He ached to take her in his arms and hold her, not just to comfort her, but for himself, as well. He rarely spoke about what had happened to him, mainly because doing so brought it all back. The pain, the frustration, the urgent need to get back to the life he’d had before.

  “Once the army finally got me stateside, I had multiple surgeries. I still wasn’t given very optimistic odds as to whether I’d walk again, but I was determined.” He took a deep breath and locked his gaze on hers. “Because of you, Carly.”

  Those words had her stiffening, her gaze gone cold as she removed her hand from over his. “You didn’t even try to contact me, Micha. Not even once. You let me continue to think you were dead.” She shook her head, the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. “I grieved. Every single day. For weeks, for months, for years. Why, once you were able, didn’t you reach out and let me know you were still alive?”

  He considered his next words carefully, not sure he could explain properly. But he knew he had to try and, hopefully, by sharing honestly, he could gain her understanding. One thing these two years had given him was the ability to look back objectively.

  “This was a low point in my life,” he said haltingly. “I couldn’t see past the darkness.” Ashamed, he admitted the truth, something he’d never said out loud. “For a really awful period, I honestly considered taking my own life. My career—to which I dedicated everything—was over. I had scars, both physically and mentally. I didn’t think you’d want me. I wasn’t the same man at all.”

  “But you didn’t even give me a choice.” Carly pushed to her feet, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’d like you to take me home now,” she said. “Thank you for explaining. Clearly I have a lot to think about.”

  Try as he might, he couldn’t detect any lingering bit of sympathy in her expression. He’d given her nothing but the truth, so he’d done all he could.

  He left enough cash on the table to pay the bill plus a tip, and did as she asked. When he pulled up in front of her house, she turned to eye him.

  “You gave me quite a scare,” she said. “Following me around these past six weeks.” She got out of the car and he followed her.

  “Six weeks?” Confused, he shook his head. “I’ve only been back a week. What are you talking about?”

  She stared at him, her eyes wide. “I’ve had the sense that someone has been watching me for the last month and a half,” she said slowly. “It had gotten to the point where I’d decided I might have to stop taking walks.”

  Immediately, he thought of her father’s and uncle’s murders. “Have you told someone? Your family? The police? Isn’t your boyfriend Chicago PD?”

  “Former boyfriend,” she corrected. “And no, I haven’t said anything about this to anyone. I’d planned to mention it to Harry tonight.”

  This time, he didn’t even allow himself to react to the other man’s name. “I’ve got some friends who can do some checking for me,” he said. “Contacts in both the military special ops and the FBI. We’ll see what they can dig up.”

  “Knock yourself out,” Carly said, turning and walking back into her house.

  Micha sat in his rental car until she’d made it inside and closed the front door. He’d start making phone calls immediately once he got back to his hotel room. And he’d be back to see her again tomorrow, and the day after that, every day for as long as she’d let him.

  Just like before, being around Carly made him toss all his careful plans out the window. Except this time, finished with the military, he actually could follow through and do what he should have done before—court Carly properly and finally make her his wife.

  But first, he needed to concentrate on keeping her safe.

  * * *

  Unsettled, Carly had felt like a jittery mess all through dinner. Despite being a big fan of Lou Malnati’s, she’d had to force herself to eat. The deep-dish was delicious, as always, but it would have been far too easy to allow herself to fall back into what had once been a comfortable sort of old habit with Micha.

  Except two long years had gone by. She didn’t know this man anymore. And he didn’t know her. She was no longer the same wide-eyed innocent she’d been before. After losing Micha, she’d resigned herself to living a life without finding the same kind of passionate love. Harry had confided in her that he felt the same, and if this easy companionable friendship they shared was the best they could do, so be it.

  In retrospect, she understood why he had found it so easy to let her go.

  Micha was another story. When she got out of his rental car, it had taken every ounce of self-restraint she possessed to keep from inviting him inside. Too easily, she could imagine what would happen if she let him kiss her again. What she wanted, she admitted. But she kept her spine straight and marched up her sidewalk, letting herself into her house and locking him out.

  When Micha had informed her that he’d only been in town a week, her first reaction had been a shiver of fear snaking up her spine. How could that be, when the feeling of being watched had started over a month ago?

  Then, as usual, she began to question herself. Maybe she’d only imagined it. Perhaps it had been paranoia, brought on by her father’s and uncle’s murders.

  As if Micha knew her thoughts, her phone rang and his number came up on caller ID. Her heart began to pound as she answered. “Are you calling from out front?” she asked, her resolve rapidly weakening. If he was, she suspected she’d go open the front door and invite him in.

  “No, I’m driving back to the hotel,” he responded. “But I have a few more questions if you don’t mind.”

  She closed her eyes, full of both thankfulness and regret. “Go ahead. What do you need to know?”

  “Do the police have any leads on your father’s killer?”

  “No,” she answered. “And I doubt one has anything to do with the other. I wasn’t involved in my father and uncle’s business. They were shot outside their offices. My cousin January is engaged to one of the police detectives, named Sean Stafford. He’d tell us if there’d been any new leads.”

  “Good to know. I’ll touch base with him, too. Since I’m going to be around awhile, I might as well do some digging.”

  Surprised, she gripped the phone tightly. “Are you? Going to be around awhile, that is?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Why?” She couldn’t resist asking. If he had expectations, she might as well level with him.

  “You know why.” The slow smile in his voice lit a simmer deep inside her. “But I’ll spell it out, anyway. We were meant to be together, Carly Colton. I won’t be going anywhere again. Not this time.”

  “Slow your roll,” she replied. “It seems to me like you’re taking a lot for granted.” She held up her ringless hand, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. “We’re no longer engaged.” She saw no need to tell him his ring no longer hung on a chain nestled between her breasts, close to her heart. In fact, she’d only made the decision to take it off last week.

  “I understand,” he said softly. “But I’d like to ask you to give me another chance.”

  “I’ll have to think about that,” she said. “Do you have any other questions?”

  “Not right now,” he said, sounding far too cheerful. “I’ll talk to you later.” And he ended the call.

  Putting her phone down, she strode into her kitchen, her hands shaking as she fumbled to get a drink out of the fridge.

  So much had happened in the span of one day. Her head ached nearly as much as her heart.

  Micha was alive. She’d always believed she’d buried most of her heart with him. Now he, instead of Harry, would be looking into the possibility that she might have a stalker.

  It felt good, she acknowledged, giving over some of her fear to someone else. Normally, such a thing would make an independent woman like her bristle. But ever since her father and his twin had been brutally murdered, she and the rest of her family had been on edge. Being a Colton meant their family was well known and easily identified. Like any prominent family, they had enemies as well as friends.

  Since she had to work an early shift tomorrow, she knew she’d need to turn in early. But with everything that had happened, she was way too keyed up to go to sleep any time soon.

  In just one day, her reality had completely changed. Everything she’d believed to be true for the last two years had been completely upended. The weirdest part of discovering that Micha hadn’t died was that the discovery did nothing to dispel that small knot of grief she carried around with her. Now, instead of mourning his loss, she supposed she grieved what might have been.

  Seeing him had been a shock. In fact, she still hadn’t processed or sorted through all the tangled emotions that his resurrection had caused. Making love with him had been a huge mistake, a kind of knee-jerk reaction to the shocking sight and touch and feel of him. Her visceral reaction had come without thought, without reason. Now, after the fact, she understood it had been something she should never have allowed to happen. She’d need to make sure it didn’t occur again. Because she knew if she let it, she’d be risking her heart.

  She’d finally gotten over losing him. Not completely—she’d begun to see such a thing only faded in small doses, with waves of grief overwhelming her unexpectedly. She’d gone from a period of being unable to function, to attending grief counseling. There, she’d learned how to claw her way out of the dark pit of despair and begun making plans to be able to face her new reality.

  Now her new reality had been blown to rubble. She wasn’t sure she was emotionally equipped to deal with that kind of fallout again.

  Micha seemed to think they could pick up right where they’d left off. As if he hadn’t broken her heart. She wasn’t certain she could risk feeling that way again. She didn’t think she’d survive.

  Sitting at her kitchen table sipping on her drink, she tried to adjust to her new reality. It sure wasn’t easy.

  A rattle and a thud outside made her go still. It seemed to have come from her backyard. Was someone trying to break into her house?

  Heart pounding, she hurried into the kitchen. She double-checked the dead bolt, making sure it was locked. Staying away from the window, she stood still and listened, praying the sound didn’t come again. She’d been meaning to get a lock for that back gate and now she seriously wished she had.

 

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