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But now, like the dogs, the shoes sat waiting for their owner. The entire house held its breath in anticipation of Melissa breezing through the front door.
Rowe closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall. His eyes burned from too many tears shed and his throat felt as if it had been sliced up by his screams. But none of it compared to the weight on his chest, crushing his heart and keeping him from drawing a deep breath.
He was drowning.
From the living room, Lucas’s low voice rumbled. His heavy footsteps creaked on the worn floorboards. He was pacing as he talked on the phone. There were calls that needed to be made and decisions that had to be decided, but Rowe couldn’t bring himself to move. He was fine with letting Lucas handle it all.
He should have called Mel’s parents. But calling made it real. Made it final. There was no going back when he said the words out loud. And he couldn’t do that yet.
Hours passed and his keepers rotated. Lucas was replaced by Andrei while Lucas took Andrei’s place at Ian’s side in the hospital.
Mel was gone. She would never blow through the front door like a mini whirlwind of chaos, sending the dogs into a barking, jumping tizzy. On the tip of her tongue would either be an excuse as to why he had to be the one stuck with cooking duty or a dirty joke she knew would make him smile. One she couldn’t wait to share with Snow.
Snow.
A hard knot formed in Rowe’s throat, threatening to cut off his air. He never should have said those things to his brother. But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that if Snow had just been working that day, if he had been at the hospital, he might have been able to save Melissa. The man was a genius with a scalpel. The few times he ever murmured a word of praise was for his surgical team. Couldn’t they have saved his wife?
None of it made any sense. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was the one who lived dangerously, the one who had weapons stashed around the house and invested his time and energy in developing state-of-the-art security systems. He was the one who kept a toe in the underbelly of the city and maintained contacts in both the military and various spy agencies. His head was full of shit he had no business knowing and he loved to be in the middle of it all when bullets started flying. He was supposed to go first.
Not Mel. Not because of some stupid car accident when she had this long, amazing life ahead of her.
The front door opened and closed again. Someone new was speaking with Andrei, a soft woman’s voice. Daisy lifted her head, her ears turning toward the voices, but she settled back when she realized it wasn’t who they were all waiting for. The newcomer was Gidget, Rowe’s hacker from work. Someone new to keep a vigil over him.
Rowe blinked and turned his head toward the window. The slant of the light coming through the blinds had changed, becoming dim and gritty. Night was fast approaching. Was it Saturday night now? Had Mel really been gone almost twenty-four hours? Or maybe it was Sunday morning…he couldn’t tell anymore. He couldn’t stay like this. Stay here. Not when she wouldn’t be coming back to him.###
Snow flinched at the sound of a key being inserted into the front door deadbolt. The silence of his home had stretched untouched and unyielding for so long it was as if he’d fallen deaf.
Looking up from where he sat on the couch, Snow wasn’t surprised when Lucas entered and locked the door behind him. He shed his long winter coat, revealing the same jeans and sweater he’d been wearing at the hospital. Had he not been home yet? No, Lucas would have been with Rowe, and probably with Ian. Snow had gone back after Rowe left, stood watching over Ian.
A shudder wracked his taut frame as the memory of how Ian’s panic and then hysterics over Melissa had forced him to finally shout for help. He’d had to drug the young man back into oblivion so that his body would have a chance to heal. Snow had stayed with Ian until his boss finally sent him home, admonishing him to sleep and shower before he returned to prowl the pale yellow halls again. He hadn’t been able to find his coat anywhere.
So far, he’d gotten no farther than his couch. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but nervous energy zinged through tense muscles as his brain alternated in a sickening picture show between Rowe’s accusations and endless memories of Mel laughing.
Lucas dropped into the chair closest to the sofa, resting his forearms on his knees. Heavy lines dug into his face and shadows were smudged under his normally bright eyes. He looked worn down to his soul and still he kept himself moving, probably from sheer willpower. Snow wouldn’t have expected anything less from Lucas. They’d been friends for three decades and he always seemed to be a force of nature. When Lucas wanted something, he worked and pushed until he held it in his hands even if it meant nearly breaking himself in the process.
