"Hey,
its me. Don't worry, I'm fine. The doctors checked me out and
everything. Um...so yeah, I got into a
bit of trouble...I had to get married.
Don't panic. Everything will be
fine. Call me when you get back. Bye."
Colton
jerked awake, sitting up before he remembered he shouldn't. He groaned, every muscle aching and on
fire. He lifted a hand and rubbed his
face, feeling the tender places where'd he'd bruised.
Mancini
was there instantly.
"Good
morning, sir."
Colton
groaned again, sliding to the edge of the bed.
Mancini helped him stand, smiling.
"Shut
up!" Colton snapped. He stretched
gingerly, his joints snapping ominously.
He lurched to the bathroom, sighing as the steam already billowing in
the shower sank into his limbs.
He felt
better once he'd showered, spending most of it standing listlessly under the
scalding stream of water. Mancini had
his clothes out already. Colton ignored
them and rummaged through a drawer, pulling on a comfortable pair of jeans and
an old t-shirt. He couldn't face
designer anything today.
He left
his room, heading down the long hallway, still yawning and wincing. He paused by a closed door.
"She
is up already, sir." Mancini
murmured. "I believe she is in the
kitchen."
Colton
grimaced and headed down. There was no
avoiding it.
Colton's
doctor was feeling her head when Colton stepped into the kitchen.
"Ow!"
she complained.
"Sorry,"
the man muttered. "Your stitches
look good, no swelling."
She
snorted. He shined a light in her eyes,
checking each one carefully.
"Headache?"
"Raging."
She clipped.
"And
your ears?"
"Still
ringing."
He
nodded ruefully. "That will
probably last a few days. Take aspirin,
get some rest. No loud music." The doctor saw Colton in the doorway. "Ah, Mr. Savage. How are you, this morning?"
Colton
scowled and the doctor chuckled.
"Good, good."
He
quickly packed up his things, tucking everything into a sleek brown
suitcase. "Call me, if you need
anything, or your headache gets worse."
"Thank
you, Dr. Ferr." The woman said,
shaking his hand. Colton nodded and the
man left.
The
woman watched him, silently. Renee. Renee Savage.
Colton
cleared his throat. "I hope you
slept well."
She
shrugged, making a face. "I
tried. I'm not used to your time zone,
still."
"Yes,
I imagine." He said lamely. Silence
stretched between them again. "Have
you eaten?"
"Yes,
thank you." She touched the bowl
and spoon sitting on the table next to her.
"Good."
Her face
was cut and bruised like his, a white bandage on her forehead, covering six
little black stitches.
"Are
you in pain?" he asked.
"Nothing
unendurable." She said with a grimace.
"I'll live."
"Good." He could have kissed Mancini when the man
rescued him.
"Mrs.
Savage," he said smoothly, ignoring both of their winces. "Would you come with me? I have a selection of clothing for you to
chose from."
"Thanks,"
she said, standing stiffly. She was
still wearing her football jersey, cleaned during the night, but ragged. Her jeans had scorch marks on them. Colton stepped out of the way. She looked back once at the foot of the
stairs, her frown filling him with foreboding.
#
What had he done?
Colton
stared into his cup of coffee, trying to divine the reason for his madness.
He
couldn't blame it on the explosion.
Yes, he
could.
No.
He shook
his head, setting the mug down with a sharp click on the marble counter
top. He closed his eyes, trying to ease
the dull ache behind them.
Mrs.
Savage.
He
laughed grimly to himself. Two words
he'd never thought he'd hear spoken in his house. He went to the window, looking over the
smooth lawn, the garden. It was a
beaming, beautiful day. Already the air
conditioner was on, promising a hot afternoon.
"Mr.
Savage," the housekeeper said cheerfully.
"Can I fix you anything to eat?"
"No,
Rosa. Thanks."
"Alright."
She said with a sniff. He growled to
himself. The problem with having a
permanent household staff is they started acting like family.
"Mrs.
Savage is looking better than I expected."
Colton
grunted noncommittally.
"She
is very pretty, isn't she?"
Colton
was of two minds about this, so said nothing.
"Dreadful,
them thinking she had a hand in this!" the woman continued blandly. Rosa Grego loved to talk. "Why, she saved your life! And who knows how many others! She is so very brave. Simply dreadful," she repeated.
"Yes."
Colton said evenly. He left before she
could extol on the woman's virtues any further.
His mood
was not brightened when Mancini showed a man into Colton's office.
"Mr.
Savage." Mancini murmured
gently. Colton looked up from his
laptop, scowling.
"What?"
"This
is Dr. Tuilin."
Colton
stood, shaking the man's hand.
"What can I do for you, doctor?"
"The
embassy sent me, Mr. Savage." The
man said softly. "I am to examine
you and...Mrs. Savage."
"Why?"
Colton asked warily.
"You
have experienced a traumatic event, Mr. Savage.
The ambassador is concerned for your mental health."
Colton
snorted. He was himself, after
yesterday. "I'm fine."
"Protocol,
sir. May I proceed?"
Colton
waved him to sit, dropping back to his own chair.
Colton
had heard all these questions before. He
answered simply, explaining what had happened, how he felt about it. Tuilin nodded finally, capping his pen. "Thank you, sir. Is Mrs. Savage well enough to take some time
for me?"
Colton
shrugged. "Wait here. I'll find her."
"Of
course, sir."
Colton
stood, gratefully escaping. Even if he
wasn't traumatized by it, it still made his skin crawl thinking how close to
death he'd actually been.
He found
Mancini in the kitchen, writing up a menu.
"Where's..."
Colton cleared his throat. "Where's
Renee?"
"I
will get her, sir." Mancini assured
him. Colton gave up the task
gratefully. He only had to wait a few
minutes under Tuilin's bulging eyes before she knocked at the open door.
"Ah,
Mrs. Savage." Tuilin said, rising
to shake her hand. Colton watched as she
blushed furiously, bemused. "I must
ask you some questions, ma'am."
"Yes,"
she agreed, sitting.
Colton
listened absently, feeling like he should leave, but not wanting to. He pecked at his keyboard, trying not to
watch too closely.
#
Rosa was right, as always. She was pretty. In a soft, kind of round sort of way. Colton imagined she'd have been the height of
sexy two hundred years ago, when women wore enormous skirts and corsets. And lots of cleavage.
She
finished quickly, obviously not traumatized either. Tuilin frowned a bit at her harsh answers
when he asked what she would like to say to the men who had done this. Colton didn't think she was out of line. And she was American. Americans were aggressive, impulsive. Which is why she'd saved his life.
And why
he'd married her.
"Thank
you, Mr. Savage." Tuilin said, breaking into his thoughts.
Colton
stood and shook his hand again, murmuring pleasantries.
She made
a face as the door shut, sticking her tongue out. "Horrid man!" She exclaimed.
Colton
shrugged. "Psychologist."
She
snorted, then winced, feeling her bandaged forehead.
Colton
searched for a way to get her out of his office. She took matters into her own hands. She stood and gave him a weak smile. "Mr. Savage," she began. He held in a flinch. "I know I said it before, but, thanks. I really appreciate you...sacrificing like
this."
"Least
I could do." He said falsely. This
was going to blow up in his face any second.
"Really,
you didn't have to." She gave him a
better smile, much warmer.
"Hopefully, this gets cleared up quickly."
He
grunted and stared determinedly at his computer screen. His stocks were already plummeting and the
market in London had only been open for three minutes.
She left
then and shut the door with snap.
He swore
at himself and put his head down on the desk.
He was
mad, to have done this. The words had
just blurted out of him.
"You
have to marry me." He'd said, low and urgent.
"What?"
she squawked, blood dripping down her face as a paramedic tried to staunch her
wound.
"You
have to marry me." He insisted.
"Now."
"You're
crazy."
"Please,
listen to me."
"Who
the hell are you?" she demanded.
"Get away from me!"
He'd
glanced over his shoulder, at the police and soldiers milling around the crater
in the street. "At the
hospital. I'll explain on the way."
She
gaped at him. He climbed into the
ambulance after her, bracing himself as the wailing vehicle lurched away from
the stadium.
He
wasn't sure what he'd said as they raced to the overburdened building. She'd listened white faced as he hissed to
her, praying she'd understand. Finally
she nodded. It was easy to find a
chaplain circling the emergency room, comforting the injured and dying.
He'd
hardly batted an eye, pulling out his book and doing it right then. He even had the license for them to sign.
Colton
pushed back from his desk. Opening a
drawer, he pulled out the stained document.
It was smudged with dirt from his hands, blood from Renee's. Still legal, though. He was glad he'd done it then. Renee's trouble had already started.
#
Colton watched the video again, rewinding
over and over. It made him queasy, but
he had to make sure, convince himself.
The
black and white footage was jerky, a frame shot every three seconds, only two
minutes of footage, six minutes total.
It seemed like much longer than that at the time, lasting for hours
instead of moments.
He found
himself as he left the stadium, the crowd celebrating their victory churning to
one side. Flags and pennants waved
madly, footballs flying everywhere.
Soccer
balls, he corrected himself. He'd been
living in Spain too long, apparently.
He found
Renee, only twenty feet or so from him on the screen. She stopped to dig through her purse, one of
hundreds of nameless faces. She pulled
out a cell phone and answered, laughing, her face in profile. She hung up, clearly unable to hear in the
noise.
Then she
stopped, her hand still in her bag.
Colton
shuddered. The man was standing in the
middle of the crowd. He opened his coat,
the bomb strapped to his chest. He
lifted his hands in the air, to give the shrapnel the most chance of
penetrating the people around him.
Renee
took a flying leap and slammed into him, driving him to the ground, her hands
wresting the trigger away from him. It
was a miracle it wasn't a dead switch. Just a button.
The man
didn't stand a chance as Renee punched and kicked him into submission,
screaming, her strength born of fury and terror. The crowd wavered around her, a space opening
up. Police shoved through the crowd,
trying to reach what they thought was just a fight.
Then the
screen went white, then static. It faded
back slowly, gray smoke obscuring everything.
People were running everywhere, many bleeding. Colton found himself lying on the cement,
tangled in with the other survivors.
Renee
sat up, holding her head. She stood
shakily. She knelt down next to the
attempted terrorist, shaking his collar.
He didn't move. Renne ran over to
a stumbling policeman, dragging him back to the unconscious man. The policeman stared down at the bomb, then
got on his radio. It was chaos after
that.
Colton
ejected the DVD. He shouldn't even have
it, but money bought all sorts of things he shouldn't have. He tucked the disk back into its case and set
it in his desk drawer.
She was
lucky she wasn't dead.
He was
lucky he wasn't dead.
He
sighed, stretching, his body sore and achy every possible place it could be so
and then some.
He'd
heard the policemen's mutters, about an American woman who had known about the
attack. Colton had frozen in
horror. He'd seen what had happened, her
shouts drawing every eye. He knew the
truth of it, that she was a hero, that she had saved dozens of lives.
That's
when he'd broken away from the men trying to get him onto a stretcher. He had to find her, to warn her. She'd not get any leniency from the Spanish
Police. They were good, hardworking men
and women fighting an increasingly desperate war against an unpredictable,
merciless enemy. If they thought she'd
had anything to do with it, she'd have been locked up for months, years maybe,
while they tried to get her to confess.
Colton
shuddered.
Marrying
her was the only way. And even that
might fail.
#
He went to find her that afternoon,
increasingly anxious. She was passed out
on the couch in front of the TV, the news muted, English subtitles scrolling
across the bottom. They were showing the
footage as well, replaying the explosion again and again.
Colton
switched it off.
The news
anchors were already hyping it, speculating about who Renee was. Was she a hero? An accomplice who backed out at the last
minute? Was it a diversion from the real
explosion?
He shook
her shoulder gently. Her eyes opened
slowly, groaning as she pushed herself upright.
"I
hurt!" she said pathetically. He
had to smile.
"I
know, me too."
She sat
with her eyes closed for a moment, her lips thin with pain.
Rosa was
right. She was very pretty. Even with her lip cut and her eye swollen.
She felt
her bandage, wincing.
"Do
you need more pain killers?" he asked, concerned when her grimace of pain
didn't ease.
"No,"
she said shortly. "I can't take any
more until..." she opened her eyes to peek at her watch. "Six."
He sat
on the couch, as far from her as he could get.
It didn't make his heart stop thumping.
"Do
you need a doctor?"
"No."
She snapped. She sighed. "Sorry.
I'm just tired."
"Its
okay," he said, trying to joke.
"I owe you my life. I think
I can put up with it."
She
smiled then, turning her head to look at him.
"Hopefully, not for long."
He
hesitated and she saw. "What?"
she asked. "What's happened?"
"Nothing,"
he assured her. He was starting to worry
about that himself. He expected the
police to be banging his door down already.
"Its just...look, this is going to suck, but you need to stay
here. In Spain. Married to me. For awhile."
"Why?"
"So
people don't think we did exactly what we did.
Get married so you would have resident legal rights, be protected by my
name."
"How
long is 'awhile?'" she asked warily.
"Until
this investigation is over." He hedged.
Her glare dragged the words out of him.
"And then long enough afterward to make it look legitimate."
"How
long?" she repeated sternly.
"Maybe
a year, two?"
She
swore and he flinched.
"Sorry,"
she muttered. "Its not you, of
course. I'm sure you're a great guy and
everything."
"Thanks,"
he said, feeling somehow insulted. He
gave himself a shake. His emotions were
jangling around discordantly. And she wasn't
pretty, maybe rating, at best, cute.
Nothing on his last girlfriend.
She'd been a model. Or maybe it
was a gymnast?
"But
I really, really, don't want to live in Spain." She continued. "I have a job. Friends.
My career." She put her head
in her hands. "What are my parents
going to say?"
"You
haven't called them?" he demanded.
"I
did. They're on vacation, too. In Yellowstone, backpacking. It could be weeks before they check their
messages." She sighed, rubbing her
eyes. "Man, I'm tired."
"Go
get in bed," he suggested.
"I'll have Rosa bring you something to eat later."
"Thanks."
She said, smiling at him again. His
heart lightened. She'd sounded
distraught, hopeless. He helped her to
her feet, steadying her as she swayed.
He was
tired too. Tired enough he only watched
dumbly as his body leaned forward and kissed her.
She
jerked out of his arms. Her slap burst
pain across his temples.
"Oh!"
she gasped. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean-sorry! I'm sorry, Mr.
Savage!" She rubbed his cheek as he
scowled at her. "You startled
me."
"I
guess." He muttered, embarrassed and angry. And not sure why. It had been a friendly kiss, meant to
comfort.
He was
glad when she fled upstairs, furiously red.
#
Colton lay awake, staring at the ceiling
above his bed, at the rich molding and plasterwork. His house was old, decorated in a classic
style. He hadn't cared when he moved in,
his agent buying the property for him and readying it while Colton was still in
Singapore.
He liked
it here. The house was comfortable,
close to the city. It was warm most of
the year. He'd never liked winter
sports. And he didn't really miss
America, having spent so little of his life there. He had been born in Spain, his mother
Spanish.
He
smiled sadly. He missed them. He was glad he had been here when they
died. His mother from cancer, his
father, much older, from grief. There
was no other explanation for it. He had
just stopped living after his wife died, fading away.
Colton
turned over, wiggling unto he was comfortable.
Her lips
were soft.
He
jerked awake, blushing again. He scowled
and punched his pillow down.
He was
being stupid. She was pretty, yes. Brave, daring. And a complete stranger. No doubt a conceited princess using her dad's
money to have a good time in Europe while her parents took a break from their
boringly opulent lives.
The
hypocrisy of his thoughts didn't make him feel any better about it.
The next
morning the storm descended.
Colton
was pouring himself a cup of coffee when someone started pounding on the front
door. Mancini answered.
A man
stomped in, glaring furiously.
"Mr.
Colton Savage?" he demanded.
"Yes." Colton said easily. "Who's asking?"
"I
am Detective Ralph Moreno." The man
fixed him with a hard stare. "Do
you know the whereabouts of one Miss Renee White?"
"Yes,"
Colton said, enjoying being difficult a little too much. "She's still asleep upstairs."
That
flummoxed him for a moment. "Excuse
me?"
Colton
saw Mancini slip away, wondering what he was up to.
"Renee
is upstairs. She's exhausted. Could you come back later? You understand why I don't want you to bother
my wife, detective."
"Wife?" Moreno's mouth dropped open. "What is this?"
"We
got married." Colton said simply,
sipping from his mug.
"When?"
"Two
days ago. At the hospital."
"What?"
Moreno shook his head, dismissing that impossibility. "Mr. Savage, I must speak with Renee
White immediately."
Colton
sighed. "If you must."
He led
the man out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
He hesitated by the guest room, Mancini's look drawing him down the
hallway.
"Mrs.
Savage is asleep," the man chided at Colton's bedroom door, but he let
them in, Moreno nearly stepping on Colton's heels to get inside.
Colton
stopped dead.
"Colton?"
Renee asked, drawling sleepily. She
lifted her head from his pillow, her hair a tangled mess. She propped herself up on her elbows. "Colton, what-" She saw Moreno and gasped, jerking the
blankets to her chin, blushing.
"What is this?" She demanded.
Moreno
had the grace to look at the ground.
"Miss White, I must speak with you immediately."
"About
what?" she snapped, making sure every inch of her was covered with the
sheets. She scowled at them and Colton
cleared his throat.
"He
just has some questions to ask you.
Honey." He added, hoping Moreno didn't notice the pause.
She
pouted and Colton sucked in a breath.
"Give me a minute." She said, her cheeks flaming still.
Mancini
herded Moreno out the door, shutting it with a wink that filled Colton with
dread.
#
Colton stared at the floor. At Renee's bare foot tapping the wood
impatiently, peeking out from under his robe.
"Of
course I have no idea who they were or what they want!" Renee snapped, her
cheeks red with fury now.
"Miss
White-"
"And
we are married, Mr. Moreno." She interrupted. "I'll tell you again. I came out and saw him open his coat. I jumped him and got the trigger away from
him. Then there was an explosion. Once I could get up, I went and got a
policemen. Then I went to the
hospital."
"Where
you married Mr. Savage." Moreno added dubiously.
"Yes!"
"You
understand we must check your story, Miss White." Moreno said severely. "If you've lied to me in anyway..."
Renee
threw up her hands and started pacing, the silk of the robe swishing.
"Your
embassy will be in touch with you soon, Miss White. They are overwhelmed at the moment, what with
several Americans being killed in the explosion."
Renee
sighed. "I wish I could have
stopped them both."
Moreno
ignored her plaintive wish. "You
have all your documents? Passport,
visa?"
"Yes."
"I
will need copies."
"Of
course."
"You
have the marriage certificate?" Moreno asked after a moment of scribbling
in a little notebook. Colton handed it
over, blood stains and all. Moreno
scowled at it and took a picture of it.
Colton took it back, swallowing nervously.
The man
stood heavily, looking grim. "Miss
White, I must place you under house arrest." She rolled her eyes and he went on. "Until this investigation is over and
your involvement determined."
"Fine,"
she snapped. "Are we
done?" She turned and marched
out. Colton could hear her thumping all
the way back upstairs. To his bedroom.
Moreno
left without another word.
Colton
put his head in his hands. He couldn't
believe it had worked.
He sat
until Rosa came in and asked if he wanted lunch.
"No."
He said shortly, mad at being caught being a coward. He didn't want to go upstairs. What if she was still in his room? In his bed?
She had been naked!
He
climbed the stairs slowly, trying to figure out what he had felt when he'd seen
her lying there. It defiantly wasn't
something he was proud to recall.
He
knocked.
"Come
in!"
His
knees went weak with relief as Renee scowled at him from the edge of the bed,
fully dressed, in her own clothing.
"Is
he gone?" she snapped, still in a rage.
"Yes."
He assured her. "Sorry, I couldn't
get him to leave without it looking suspicious."
She
snorted. "Thank Mancicni. He was brilliant." She blushed, though.
"Yeah,
I'll give him a raise." Colton said distractedly. "So, I don't mean to kick you out, but I
need to take a shower and..."
"Right,"
she said, jumping up.
"Sorry." She slipped by
him, her face averted.
Colton
shut the door and leaned against it.
"I
am crazy." He said to the empty room.
Giving himself a shake, he went and sat on the bed. And jumped up again. He tore back the sheets, bundling them up and
dumping them in the laundry basket.
He felt
better after that, knowing he wouldn't have to sleep where she had lain in his
bed.
#
Colton left in the early morning. He hadn't been into the office for days and
his secretary was sending him increasingly frantic emails.
He
turned in his seat to watch his house shrink behind him. Rosa and Mancini would make sure she rested
today.
His
secretary, Alice Cho, waited at the main door, her heeled foot tapping.
"You
have some explaining to do," she snapped, glaring at him from behind her
sparkling glasses. She always wore the
most outrageous clothing. Today was a
pinstripe suit in pink and blue, her heels a jarring yellow. She enjoyed her lavish salary to the fullest.
"Yes,"
he agreed. She didn't know the half of
it.
Her
shriek was deafening in the elevator.
Colton winced as she shouted at him.
"Married?" She demanded.
"You got married?"
"I
had to!" he protested. She hit him
with her stack of folders. Several
times.
"What
were you thinking!"
"I
fell in love with her," he lied.
"That's
no reason to go Vegas on me!" She snapped, leading him into his office
overlooking the business park's central plaza.
He'd had to tempt a very grumpy CEO with a very large check to get these
offices. It was worth it for the
view. "Who is she?"
"Renee
White."
Alice
jerked to halt, spinning to stare at him.
"That woman on TV? Who
tackled the terrorist?"
Colton
nodded, grinning in spite of it. "I
married her at the hospital."
"WHAT
WERE YOU THINKING?" Alice thundered.
She continued to yell at him, slamming documents and papers down on his
desk, shutting the files with sharp jabs.
The phone rang, pitiful under her bellows. "Don't think this is the end of it,
Colton!" She lifted the receiver
and said sweetly, "Savage Corporation, how may I help you?...I'm afraid he
isn't available at the moment, may I take a message...yes...yes...thank you, ma'am. Good-bye." She banged the phone down. "And what are you going to do about
Felicia?"
Colton
winced. He'd forgotten about her. "Just call her, I guess-"
"Call
her?" Alice repeated. "That
will go nicely. 'Hi, Felicia, sorry I
have to cancel. I know I said I'd take
you to Milan for the spring show, but I got married instead.'" Alice threw her arms out and glared at him
expectantly.
He
shrugged. "Something like
that."
"I
want to meet her."
"Who?"
"Your
wife," Alice said nastily.
"I want to meet her."
"Okay."
"Who
is she? The news says she's American."
"She
was on vacation." Colton explained.
"What
does she do? Where's she
from?" Colton winced again.
"I
don't know."
Alice's
disgust was beyond words. She stormed
out, slamming the door shut behind her.
Colton
took a deep breath and went to his desk.
Alice
refused to speak to him the rest of the day. She relayed her messages by email
or text. Colton considered refusing to
check it, making her talk to him. Then
he decided he didn't have the energy.
He'd been up most of the night.
Changing the sheets hadn't worked.
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