Page 37 of Liv Parrish

“Keep it together. She’ll be back in your arms in no time. Remember, this is what we do.” I don’t need the pep talk and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him so, but I also realize that he has just as much to lose. With their parents no longer involved in their lives, Melissa is his only family, besides Jacob. There’s a lot at stake here. With that sobering thought, we receive the signal and take the warehouse.

They were expecting the attack. Sergei isn’t an idiot and is annoyingly familiar with his surroundings, specifically the points where he could be vulnerable to a sniper bullet or stealth attack. He has positioned himself in such a way that there is no clear shot of him without risking Melissa’s life as well, which means our snipers are now tasked with taking out the men surrounding him while we focus on the outliers. The object is to avoid a firefight, not only because innocent lives are at stake, but because we don’t want to draw attention from the occupants of the surrounding buildings, some of whom might be aligned with the Russians. Word of the raid has undoubtedly spread amongst the criminal community, and we have to assume that there might still be those willing to help Sergei. The fact that he has men in this warehouse standing with him, speaks to that fact.

Things progress quickly and, for the most part, according to plan. Until tonight, I’ve not had the pleasure of seeing Melissa in action, but damn! The girl has moves. Her hood had been removed at some point before we entered the warehouse, probably for Sergei to confirm that she was in fact his little raven. Realizing that he was using her as a shield, she managed to snap her tie and then used the kind of fighting skills I’ve only seen in military trained operatives to take the man down. One thing’s for sure, if she does decide to leave the FBI, we would be lucky to have her. Anyway, with Sergei secured and most of his men immobilized, I make my way to the rear of the building, ready to get my woman and get the hell out of here.

I find Liv in a cordoned off section of the warehouse, still in the same position as on the video, strung up from the beam keeping her balancing on her toes and her muscles straining. But worse than that, she’s still dressed in only her underwear. Considering the amount of time that’s passed and the temperature inside the warehouse, there’s a very real possibility that she’s hypothermic. Her eyes are closed, even though she must have heard all the commotion going on around her. I rush to her side, the need to be close to her, make sure she’s okay and reassure her more powerful than a tsunami obliterating everything in its path, even though I find it impossible to speak. I can see no visible signs that she’s been hurt, but the tears streaming down her deathly pale face tell me she’s aware of my presence and knows that her ordeal is finally over. I reach for her, gently lifting her so that she’s no longer straining her arms while trying to keep her balance.

“Hey, Smoochie.” It’s more a breath than a whisper from her lips, tinged blue and chapped from the cold, the words choked with her tears. “You came for me,” she continues, all but ripping out my heart with her watery smile. So fucking brave. I don’t miss the fact that she used the nickname I teased her about a million years ago, the one she claimed she’d only use under extreme circumstances. I guess this situation qualifies. Finally, the vice grip around my throat unlocks enough for me to take a full breath into my lungs.

“Of course, I came for you, baby. I’ll have you out of here in no time, you hear? Just hang on a little bit longer. Stay with me, okay?” My lame attempt at encouragement goes unnoticed, and no one can deny how bad this looks. She’s barely conscious and will need urgent medical attention, a hospital stay, definitely, but first I need to get her out of these chains secured around her wrists. Fuck! “I need some help over here!” Her body jerks against mine as if I’ve startled her. “Sorry, baby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

She doesn’t reply, only shivers in my arms, her body limp against mine. “Mike!” I can hear how frantic I sound, the sheer panic in my voice. What’s going on? Why aren’t they coming to help? I’m just about to turn my head so that I can shout again, when Mike appears next to me with another teammate carrying a tool bag. Thank Christ!

“Hey, sweetheart, just hang in there, okay? We’ll have you out of here soon.” Mike’s reassurance seems to fall on deaf ears because Liv doesn’t respond, or maybe they were meant for me because my brothers have never failed me, and they won’t now either, not with something this important. Someone who means more to me than I could ever believe possible. He pulls a blanket from the tool bag and hands it over while Tucker grabs the metal cutters for the chains. “Heath, wrap this around her and warm her up. This should only take a minute.”

True to his word, I feel the exact moment Liv’s arms are cut free from the chain as she sags into me. Never has a weight been more welcome, even though she’s hardly any weight at all. I pick her up and hold her to my chest the way you would a small child. Her only response is a small gasp before she turns her face into my shirt, and I can feel she’s crying again. Tucker makes quick work of cutting through the shackles that had her wrists bound together and then her arms are around my neck, her face pushing tight against my skin, breathing me in.

“I’m sorry, I can’t stop crying. I’ve never been so scared in my life. They were waiting for you. They had so many guns and they wanted Melissa. Oh God, is she okay?” Fuck, this woman is going to bring me to my knees, but at least she’s talking, or rambling, but she’s coherent and thinking clearly despite everything that’s happened.

“Melissa is fine, and we had bigger guns. You should know that by now, baby. The good guys always have the bigger guns.” Mike smirks at me, obviously enjoying the joke if not the inuendo.

“Come on, you two. We need to get Liv to the hospital. Get this mess cleaned up.” Of course, he’s referring to the warehouse and the men that have been captured, but Liv must have misunderstood.

“There’s no need, I already feel better. I’m just so grateful that you came for me. Heath, I need to tell you–”

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. There’s plenty of time, but we need to get you checked out, okay? Will you do that for me?” For a moment she looks like she might argue, but then she smiles up at me, the most incredibly beautiful smile, even though her lips are still so pale and painfully chapped.

I smile back down at her before looking up and … running towards us is one of Sergei’s thugs, an AK slung over his shoulder and the muzzle aimed in our direction. His shout for vengeance blends with those from my team members warning us to get down, take cover. A confusion of sound and movement. No, not now. I’ve only just got her back in my arms. This fucker is not taking her from me. I love her, she’s mine. I twist to the side and drop to the ground so that I can cover her with my body, but before I can complete the movement there is a sharp pain, a fire exploding inside my head and then nothing.

Chapter 12

~ Liv ~

The sky is dark even though it’s midmorning. It’s overcast, raining and cold. The ground we’re standing on is muddy, clinging to our shoes which are sinking into the soft, sodden earth. The pastor’s voice drones on at the outer edges of my consciousness, his words indecipherable but his voice strangely soothing, if not as comforting as I would hope. But there is no comfort now. Everyone standing at this gravesite cared about Heath, and that’s what’s important, not our damp clothes or dirty shoes or frayed comfort.

At some point Heath mentioned to his parents that he didn’t want to be buried in their family plot in San Diego, but rather here where he had made a new home for himself. They respected his wishes, even though that must have been difficult, and made the trip here as soon as they were notified of his death. I don’t know how much they’ve been told about his final hours, but both his parents and sisters have treated me as if I was a part of the family since the moment we met, despite the crushing guilt resting on my shoulders. On some level I understand that I’m not responsible for his death. He knew more than most about the evils that lurk in our society, but still … twisted circumstances forever laced with regret. It should have been me … in the grand scheme of things, I was the expendable one, hardly a part of his life long enough to make an impact, or so I thought. He sacrificed himself to save my life. What does one say in the face of a love like that? And of course, I loved him too. I wanted to tell him, say the words so that he didn’t doubt me, but like I said, twisted circumstances … Now we stand huddled together, his family and friends, men and women he served with dressed in full dress uniform out of respect for a fellow hero, and me. The woman he loved. The woman who couldn’t say the words back because … God, I hate this.

Wyatt, who flew in on the redeye to attend the funeral, stands next to me, sharing my umbrella in exchange for his quiet strength. I’ve missed him. He looks ragged, tired, and stressed, his cheeks covered in scruff and his hair long past needing a trim. His eyes are hooded and his skin tight with his own grief, even though I know he’s trying to hide it from me. Always so strong. So protective. I know I won’t be able to ask him any questions about where he’s been or what he’s doing, so I try not to give it too much thought, but not having any answers feels worse than knowing the truth. Then again, what do I know. I only had the briefest glimpse of what his life must be like, and it threatens to destroy me even now, having known Heath and losing him so suddenly. At this gravesite, I want to beg for a second chance, a cosmic do-over and really, who would it hurt? Having such a good man back in the world. Who could it possibly hurt?! But I don’t do it. I don’t beg. I don’t make a scene. I stand there quietly until it’s time for the pastor to say his final prayer and then people start to leave, making their way to Mike and Kate’s house where a small wake is being held. And after that? After that they will resume their lives and maybe occasionally think about the man who showed me what being loved unconditionally looked like.

Aaron and Riley remain standing beside me and Wyatt, along with Melissa, Ren, and Evan. In the days since my rescue, one of them have been by my side constantly. I felt too broken to object, too numb to feel smothered or annoyed, and even now, their presence feels like the pastor’s voice. There’s no comfort to be had, not yet. And maybe I should tell them. Maybe I should say it’s okay, so that they can go back to their lives, take comfort from each other while they mourn their own loss. That would be the right thing to do, but I don’t do that either. Instead, Melissa takes me by the hand, and we leave this mournful place, making our way to Mike’s house, where there’s a fire roaring in the fireplace of their cheerful home and you could be forgiven for thinking that Heath was merely late to the get-together, instead of lost to us forever.

§§§

Time passes in a vacuum, or maybe it’s just me stuck in this void where sound doesn’t register and words have no meaning. Light penetrates, if only to signify the change from day to night, the passing of time, the absence of love, comfort and warmth. In the time we spent together, it never occurred to me to appreciate how warm Heath was, physically. He was like my own personal heating blanket and never seemed to mind that I more often than not resembled a popsicle, always cold hands and cold feet that I would shove between his in an effort to warm them up. It feels like that’s all I’ll ever be now, cold hands and cold feet, everything in between frozen.

Heath’s family returned to San Diego a few days after the funeral, something I only noticed in the vaguest sense even though I tried my best to be present. It didn’t work. Entire conversations wafted by me and even though I was sitting right there, I couldn’t tell you a single detail about what was said. I do remember promising to keep in touch, as one does in these situations of forced politeness, but vow to myself to keep the promise anyway. They might need it more than I do, and that’s okay. I went back to work shortly after that, the need to focus on something other than my own pain almost suffocating me. Stopgap might be the only thing holding me together at this point. Not that Ren, Evan and Heath’s friends haven’t been supportive, but that’s what they still feel like to me sometimes, Heath’s friends. Riley and I still hang out, and Kate and I have gotten closer too, but the urge to pack up and leave this city feels overwhelming some days. The thing is, where would I go? Death and sadness are a fact of life. Pain and loss are as much a part of living as eating and breathing, and there is no escaping it. At least here I have support, friends I can count on, and maybe more importantly, children who count on me. Wyatt has also remained a fixture in our lives, not returning to the work he was doing before Heath … I think Aaron is trying to recruit him for Fortress, to make him a permanent part of the team. I hope he does because Wyatt needs that stability and the support of his friends.

I’ve decided to move, rather than leaving the city altogether. Memories can be a blessing and a curse, but I’m not ready to leave mine behind. Not that I could, but anyway. I found an apartment and today is moving day. The sun is out, and the sky is clear, as if Mother Nature is giving her seal of approval, and I’m all packed and ready. There isn’t much, mostly just my clothes and personal items, my laptop and the books I’ve collected over the years. Three boxes, an old backpack and a battered old suitcase contain all of my possessions. Maybe this time I’ll make more of an effort with my personal space. You are my warmth; you bring color to my life and music to my soul. God, I miss him. It’s almost paralyzing to think I have to do this alone, that I can’t share everything with him. Maybe I’m making a mistake. We were so happy in that tiny apartment above the clinic, made so many memories, that walking away feels wrong, almost like a betrayal. I should go back. Ren would let me have it back if I asked. But no, I’ve already put down a deposit and this feels like a step I need to take.

I grab the first box and the backpack from my Jeep and make my way inside the building. This apartment block has an elevator, so there won’t be any more climbing stairs, unless I want to use the fire escape. I step inside and press the button for the fifth floor as the night Heath and I met comes rushing back and I actually bend over under the weight of the memory, my eyes filling with tears. Even with his injuries, covered in blood and bruises, I knew in that way that elderly couples sometimes tell you they knew when they first met their love. I knew he was the one and yet I wasted so much time! I knew it and yet I never told him! A small ding from the elevator breaks through my anguish, alerting me that I’ve reached my floor and I get off while rummaging blindly through my shoulder bag for the keys the landlord gave me. I make my way to my new apartment, still choking back the tears that always seem so close to the surface these days, almost dropping the box in the process.

“Hey, I’m Daniel. Let me give you a hand with that.”

~ The End ~