Beg For Me by Sierra Cartwright

Chapter Ten

Agunshot shredded the air. Eyes wide, reaching for him, Araceli crumpled, her blood dripping onto the white marble floor. He reached for her, and she vanished like a specter. “No!” His scream ricocheted through the room, horrifyingly useless.

In terror, he jolted awake.

Heart thundering so hard that it echoed in his ears, Torin gulped in a breath.

Shit.

The dreams were no longer random or rare occurrences. Since he’d left Araceli, they were constant and unwelcome companions.

Minutes later, when his pulse was close to normal, he crawled from the bed and headed outside.

He had no idea how many laps he’d put in, but when he hauled himself out of the swimming pool and dropped, exhausted, into a chair in the courtyard, the future was so clear that he was unsure how he hadn’t recognized it before.

Mira was his. His to protect. To dominate.

Without her, the future loomed long and bleak, an endless series of new recruits and lonely nights at Hawkeye’s Nevada compound.

Facing his fear was easier than facing a future without her.

He needed her.

Torin sluiced water from his face.

Kayla walked down the stairs, carrying a bottle of water and mug. Without an invitation, she sat down across from him and placed the coffee in front of him.

Gratefully, he took a long drink of the thick, dark brew. “I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”

“Good. I want to go and do some shopping, anyway.” She picked at the label on her bottle. “New clothes.”

He narrowed his eyes. No caffeine. A second order of beignets when they’d been at Café du Monde… “Are…” He proceeded with care. “Congratulations in order?”

“It’s secret.” She grinned. “And brand-new news. I just came here to help you get your head on straight, and then I’ll be transferring to Ops for the foreseeable future

“You—”

“Inamorata and Hawkeye wanted to give you time to get past the shooting, find your footing. They figured you would refuse to take time off. And they guessed you wouldn’t be sleeping.”

He blinked. He and Kayla had been given relatively few assignments, and none of them involved anything dangerous. “Fuck.”

“Are you going after your woman, Commander Carter?”

His woman. He liked the sound of that. “Yeah.”

She tipped her water bottle in his direction, and he headed back upstairs.

Torin could send her a text message, but he dismissed that idea as too casual. A phone call wouldn’t work either. It would be far too easy for her to send him to voicemail. Even if she answered, that wouldn’t be enough for him. He wanted to read her expression, look into her eyes to see the things she wanted to hide. If he was lucky enough, touch her.

Since he didn’t know where she lived, he contacted Hawkeye headquarters. Not surprisingly, they denied his request for information. Next, he tried a couple of operatives and an IT guru, all of whom owed him favors. No one agreed to help.

Which left him with old-fashioned search options. He thought she had a house in Louisiana, so he began there.

Annoying the hell out of him, it took hours, much longer than it should have. Of course, Hawkeye had buried her information under several layers of security.

Once he’d programmed her address into his GPS, he sat in his vehicle for a few minutes, wondering whether she’d actually be there or not. She could be anywhere on the planet, on vacation, even on an assignment if she’d skipped out on rehab and returned to duty.

There was also the very real possibility she might not want to see him.

Still, he had to see her again. Then he would deal with the ramifications.

* * *

A lemonadein front of her, Mira sat in the white wicker swing on her front porch. An overhead fan churned through the humid air but did little to dissipate June’s cloying heat.

She was restless, anxious to return to work. This morning, the physical therapist said she’d be cleared for duty in another week, perhaps two.

But she was tired of television, books, magazines, online shopping, and especially her thoughts. Hallie had invited her to the Quarter, but the risk of seeing Torin was too high, and Mira wasn’t strong enough for that. If he was with another submissive…

Damn. Getting involved with Torin had been stupid.

Mira hated that their relationship now meant she didn’t want to visit her favorite club.

She took a drink from the overly tart lemonade, then rolled the glass across her forehead. Maybe she should invite Hallie and Bartholomew over for dinner this weekend. And in the meantime, maybe Mira could begin a little surreptitious research on the man. Spy shit would be a welcome distraction.

A vehicle turned onto the street.

This was what her life had been reduced to. Watching the comings and goings, wondering what was in the packages delivered by a big brown truck.

The SUV passed a couple of houses.

Her heart lurched as she saw the color of the car. Gloss white. Like Torin’s.

Warning herself to stop the fantastical thinking, Mira slid her glass onto a nearby table. She couldn’t conjure Torin. He didn’t know where she lived, and there was no way Hawkeye would divulge her whereabouts.

The vehicle crawled forward, as if the driver wasn’t sure exactly where to stop.

Her pulse picked up, despite the urgings of her left brain. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of gloss-white SUVs in Covington. This particular one meant nothing, no matter how much she wanted it to belong to Torin.

Two houses away, the driver parked alongside the curb.

Annoyed with herself for even the momentary lapse of judgement, she snatched up the glass and took a long drink.

The engine fell silent, leaving a mockingbird as the only sound.

She leaned forward for a peek, telling herself she was looking out for her neighbors, making sure things were safe while they were at work.

A man emerged, and her view was obscured by an oversize live oak tree. He had stark raven-black hair that was slightly too long.

Despite the temperature, Mira shivered.

Of course he would park down the street to allow himself time to assess the situation. Spy shit.

For several seconds, she considered what to do.

Go inside? Turn the dead bolt? Maybe feign surprise when she opened the door. Perhaps—to protect herself—she should ignore him entirely.

That was her preferred option, and the only one she was incapable of.

She remained where she was, threading her fingers into the material of her skirt. Then, realizing that was a betrayal of her nerves, she stood.

As he passed the magnolia tree, she studied the beautiful, harsh planes of his face. Breath vanished from her lungs.

The moment he noticed her, he stopped.

Even across the distance, she saw the worry lines trenched deeply next to his blue eyes. Torin had aged a decade since that night in the hospital.

She had no doubt he hadn’t been sleeping.

Slowly he continued toward her, turning onto the path, then stopping at the bottom of the porch stairs. “I…”

Her confident, fearless former instructor ran a finger between his black T-shirt and his nape.

Because she didn’t know why he was here and was too damn scared to guess, she remained where she was, saying nothing.

“I…” He took a breath.

Hurt and confusion left her unable to speak or act.

“May I…?” Torin swept his hand in front of him, indicating the stairs, the distance separating them.

Don’t be here to break my heart.

He cleared his throat. “I fucked up.”

Of all the words she’d dreamed of, those hadn’t been among them.

“I came to apologize.”

Saying nothing, she stroked a thumb across her index finger.

“I need to see how you are.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re pissed.” He smiled, but it was the barest hint of one, and it faded fast.

Time stretched. A mockingbird zipped overhead to land in a nearby tree. The fan continued to churn.

“The truth is…”

Tears stung her eyes. Again. What was it about this man that brought emotion out in her?

“Seeing you hurt devastated me. I froze. When you blacked out, Laurents knocked me out of the way to get to you. I’m not proud. But there it is. I’ve never been paralyzed by fear before.”

“I wasn’t seriously injured.”

“Logically.” He shrugged. “Tell that to my heart.”

She couldn’t help herself. “You have one?”

Torin winced. “I deserve that.”

Struggling to hide her vulnerability, she clamped her lips together.

“May I please come up the stairs?”

“If you’ve said what you came here for, there’s no need.” She had to send him away before she begged him to stay.

“Damn it, Araceli.” His voice cracked. “This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

His hand trembled. Stunned, she moved her gaze to his.

“I’m screwing this up. What I mean to say is…I love you.”

She blinked. It wasn’t possible that she’d heard him right. “You…?”

“I love you,” he repeated, voice more confident. “You can tell me to go to hell. I wouldn’t blame you. But I couldn’t live the rest of my life without telling you.” He paused. “And asking forgiveness. I don’t deserve that, God knows. And I don’t expect anything from you. Tell me to get in the car and leave you the hell alone. But for the love of all things holy, say something.”

The breath she hadn’t realized she’d taken seared her lungs. Slowly, she released it. Her legs wobbled. She loved him. The crush she’d had during training had matured into something strong enough to withstand the ache of despair and the revelation of his deepest human failings.

His stark emotion melted her heart into a pool of compassion.

He was a man who needed her love to survive.

Not trusting her voice, she stepped to one side in silent invitation.

He took the two steps with great deliberation.

Now that he was close, her senses swam. His scent, of masculine determination and a moonlit night, was welcoming, inviting her home. She could more clearly read his eyes and the tiny sparks of grief in them.

“Nightmares?” she managed.

“Every time I try to sleep.”

He lifted a hand as if to touch her, then dropped it to his side, perhaps realizing that spoke of an intimacy they no longer shared. “Not about Ekaterina.” Pain haunted his words. “That’s not why I’m here. I can deal with that.” He shrugged, but it was a halfhearted attempt. “I had to come. It’s selfish, maybe. Probably. But I needed to see you, look in your eyes, hear you tell me to go away. If you do, I’ll respect your wishes.”

The words hung between them.

“Actually. No. I won’t. That’s a fucking lie.” He grinned ruefully and plowed a hand into his hair. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life telling you I love you and trying to make up for this. For letting fear paralyze me. For being an asshole.”

The instinct for self-preservation deserted her. He was capable of hurting her more than any other person ever had, yet she couldn’t tell him to leave. Every part of her craved him. “Tell me again.”

He swallowed. “That I love you?”

“No.” A damn tear spilled from the corner of her eye. “How bad you fucked up.”

“Totally.”

She swiped a hand across her face. “Completely.”

“One hundred percent. Jerk.”

“That’ll suffice. Now tell me the other stuff again.” It was all she could do not to launch herself into his arms.

“I love you, Araceli.” He quirked an eyebrow. “That part?”

“You’re getting there.”

“I’ll spend my life trying to make it up to you.”

“That’s better.”

“I… Damn it, Araceli. If you’re going to forgive me, put me out of my misery. Please?”

She took a step toward him. And that was all her Dominant lover needed. He closed the remaining distance and gently drew her toward him. “How’s your arm?”

“It was superficial. I’m almost done with rehab.”

“Do you love me? No. Wait.” He shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll be the man you deserve until you fall in love with me.”

She looked at him without blinking, allowing him to see her all of her, holding nothing back, the tears, the anguish, the depth of her emotion. “I think I fell in love with you at Aiken. I’ve never stopped.”

“You…?”

“Yes. I love you, Torin.”

The breath he released was jagged, as if dragged across the shards of his heart. “I’ve missed you.”

She traced a finger across one of his eyebrows. Because of the vulnerability in his tone, she offered her own confession. “It’s mutual, Commander Carter.”

“We have a lot of talking to do.”

“About?”

“The future. Marriage. How we’ll make this—Hawkeye—work. Or not. Nothing, nothing is more important than being with you. If you want me to resign, I will. I don’t know what we’ll do, but as long as it’s together, we can figure it out. Nothing is more important to me, Mira, than being with you.”

“Marriage?”Of all the things he’d said, it was the only thing she’d heard.

“Maybe kids.”

She swallowed hard. “What?”

“Long story. Kayla Davidson Stone is pregnant. And I started thinking.”

“Kiss me?”

He did, with care and a gentleness she’d never experienced from him. “I’m not fragile.”

“But you are precious.” He brushed back strands of her hair, then framed her face with his hands before leaning in to give her a kiss that tasted of the promise of a thousand tomorrows.

Her toes curled, and sexual arousal rushed through her, leaving her dizzy. Desperate, she grabbed his forearms for support.

Just then, a hoot and raucous clapping snapped through her reverie. Theodore, her nosy retired next door neighbor, leaned on his porch rail, grinning.

Embarrassment flooded her. No doubt she would be the talk of his breakfast club the next morning. “I’m so sorry you saw that, Mr. Winters!”

“It’s about time you stopped moping around, Mira.”

“Moping?” Torin raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes but gave her neighbor a half smile.

“We’re getting married,” Torin called out.

“Darn right you are,” Mr. Winters shouted back. “Otherwise I’m going to get my shotgun.”

“You didn’t propose,” she pointed out in a fierce whisper. “And I haven’t agreed.”

“You will.”

Once again, she was engulfed by the sweet relentless storm that was Torin Carter.

“I think we should go inside,” Torin said. “You definitely don’t want him to see what I’ve got planned for you next.”

“Oh?”

He swept her from her feet, and she placed a hand around his neck for stability.

“We have some time to make up for. And I plan to start doing that right away.”