Maya Banks - The Darkest Hour

“And then I got the news that you’d died.”

His voice cracked, and he couldn’t go on anymore. Even saying the words brought back the reality of that day. Of feeling like the entire world had dropped from beneath him. He never wanted to go back there.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man you needed then or now. At first I kept the papers because I wanted to tear them up when you got back. But then when I was told you died, I kept them as a reminder of all I’d lost and that the fault was mine and mine alone. When I discovered you were alive, they were the very last thing on my mind. I totally forgot I’d left them there.”

He slowly drew away, needing to see her. He touched her face, smoothing the red tear blotches against her pale skin.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Hot tears spilled over his fingertips, and he whisked them away, his soul hurting with each one that slithered down her cheek.

“I need to know that you’re with me now because you love me and not because you feel obligated to right some past wrong,” she choked out. “I can’t live thinking you feel trapped because your dead wife came back from the grave. I can’t live thinking I’ve been given everything I’ve prayed for the last year when it’s not real. It’s hell and not heaven.”

He kissed her forehead and then her nose. Then both of her eyelids. He kissed the damp trails away from her cheeks and finally pressed a gentle kiss to her quivering mouth.

“The day I learned you were alive was the single greatest day of my life. For whatever reason, God gave me a second chance. He gave us a second chance. I don’t deserve it, but I want it more than I want to live. I want to spend the rest of my life proving to you that you can trust me this time, Rachel.”

She looked at him with such hope and devastation that it broke his heart.

He grasped both her hands and brought them up to his chest to lie over his heart.

“I don’t expect us to have it all worked out in a day or even a month. You have a lot to remember. I have a lot of trust to rebuild between us. Will you at least come home with me so we can talk about this some more? Please, Rachel. Come home with me. Give me this much. I know I don’t deserve it, but at this point I’m begging.”

She hesitated, staring back at him with tortured eyes. He’d sworn he never wanted to see such anguish in her face again, like the day she walked away when he’d told he wanted a divorce. And yet now, it was ten times worse. She was infinitely fragile and so utterly destroyed that he feared she may never trust him again. What if he lost her? What if after the miracle of getting her back, he lost her after all?

“I’m scared,” she said in a hoarse, heart-wrenching voice. “I’m sick at heart.”

She pulled her hands away from his chest and turned away from him. The seeming rejection knotted his stomach. This was how she felt. The day he told her it was over. This was how she had to have felt. Like the world was coming down around her and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do.

It hurt him that he’d hurt her—had hurt her for so long. If he could protect her from those memories, he’d do it in a heartbeat, but God, he couldn’t. His time was up.

He reached out to touch her hair and then let his hand drift down to her shoulder. She flinched but he didn’t draw away. He couldn’t. He didn’t want any distance between them. He couldn’t accept that he could possibly lose her after getting back everything he’d ever wanted.

“Rachel,” he whispered. “Look at me please.”

For a long moment, she hesitated, and then she finally turned, her eyes lowered at first. He rubbed his thumb over her jaw and to her chin until she raised her gaze to meet his.

“I love you. I want you. I want us.”

She swallowed and raised a shaking hand to wipe at the corner of her eye. “I want that too, Ethan. But only if it’s real.”

“Then come home with me.”

She stared back at him, her heart so vibrant in her eyes. Finally she nodded her agreement, and his chest caved in with relief. At least she wasn’t refusing to speak to him.

“Let me tell Sam and Garrett that I’m taking you home, so they won’t worry.” He raised one of her hands to his mouth and kissed her open palm. “Be right back, baby.”

Ethan hurried down to the basement and stuck his head in the door. He didn’t want a confrontation with his brothers, especially Garrett. It was bad enough Van knew about Ethan’s fuckups, but now that Sam and Garrett also knew, it made Ethan feel like an even bigger ass.

Sam and Garrett both put away the files they were studying and surveyed Ethan with open curiosity.

“Just wanted to tell you that I’m taking Rachel back to the house.”

Garrett frowned. “Does she want to go?”

Ethan sucked in a breath through his nose. He had no right to get angry when Garrett was just looking out for Rachel. Just like he always had, but Ethan had been too stupid and insecure to know it.

“Yeah. We need to talk. Things have changed. I fucked up.” He looked directly at his brothers. “I can’t lose her.”

Sympathy simmered in Sam’s expression, and Garrett might have softened an iota. It was hard to tell around his scowl.

“Good luck, man,” Sam said.

Ethan backed out of the basement and hurried up to where Rachel waited. He held out his hand to her and waited for her to take it.

Tentatively she slid her fingers over his palm. For a moment he savored that small amount of trust, and he silently swore never to abuse that trust again.

It was still pitch-black outside, and he checked his watch. Two in the morning. Hell, they should both still be in bed, him wrapped as tight around her as he could go.

He ushered her into the truck and then got in. Quiet descended as he drove away from Sam’s house, and he was loath to disrupt the silence. He much preferred any conversation to take place at home when he could hold her in his arms.

The winding road that paralleled the lake was dark as hell at night. He slowed when he saw a car stopped at the intersection ahead. As they started to drive past, Ethan reached over and slid his fingers through Rachel’s.

Headlights seared through his periphery. What the hell? Jerk was bright-lighting them. Then he saw the lights coming directly at them.

Ethan slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel in an effort to avoid the SUV, but it slammed into the driver’s side and shoved Garrett’s truck all the way across the road into the ditch.

Pain exploded in his head, and he vaguely registered the smell of blood before all went black.

THE impact nearly jarred Rachel’s teeth loose. She slammed against her door and cried out as pain lanced up her arm. The truck rocked to a halt, and she sat trying to make sense of it all.

Ethan.

She turned in the seat and cried out again when her arm screamed in protest.

“Ethan,” she said hoarsely. “Ethan!”

He didn’t move. He was slumped against the steering wheel, shoved over by the side impact air bag. Blood ran down his forehead, and she stared in horror when he didn’t stir.

“Ethan, wake up. Oh my God, Ethan.”

The sound of creaking metal jerked her around in her seat just as her door was peeled open.

“Oh thank God! My husband is hurt. We need an ambulance.”

The man leaned in, grabbed her by the hair and hauled her out of the truck.

She screamed when he slammed her against his body, trapping her injured arm between them.

“What are you doing?” she yelled as he pulled her toward the road.

“You’re a hard bitch to kill,” he bit out.

Her brain short-circuited. It was too much shock for her to process. She looked frantically back at the smashed truck where Ethan was unconscious.

“Let me go!”

She kicked back and struggled, ignoring the searing pain that sliced through her body.

He reared back and slapped her hard across the face, knocking her to the ground. Then he yanked her up by her good arm and dragged her to a waiting vehicle.

Her face throbbed, and she struggled to comprehend what had happened, and why. He’d said she was hard to kill.

The bridge accident hadn’t been an accident. She knew it hadn’t been. But why? Why would someone want her dead?

The man threw her into the backseat, where another man sat waiting, and then he climbed into the driver’s seat and roared down the highway.

“Who are you?” she demanded as she tried to shake the grip of the second man. “What do you want?”

The driver ignored her and picked up his cell phone. He punched a few buttons and then barked into the receiver.

“I’ve got her. Yeah, no mistakes this time. I’ll make sure she never talks. No, I can’t make it look like an accident this time. I tried that already. Bitch wouldn’t die. I’ll kill her and dispose of the body. No one will ever find her. It’ll just be one of those unsolved crimes. Castle will be happy, and Tony and I will disappear to Mexico.”

Castle. Castle. She knew that name. She cursed her shattered mind. Where did she know that name from?

Her arm screamed in pain and her head was about to explode. She raised her good hand to her temple and massaged, willing herself to remember. Beside her, goon number two kept close watch on her and finally grasped her wrist and wrenched her arm down to the seat.

“Let me go,” she begged softly. “I won’t say anything, I swear it. My husband’s family can pay you. They can even fly you to Mexico. Just please let me go. This will kill them. They thought I was dead.”