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And he was just as beautiful.
“Start at the beginning,” she offered.
“Okay. Let me tell you as much as I remember,” he said. “One minute I was striding through the Mexican fields with the man I went to meet. You remember. His name was Carlos, and he claimed to have grown a completely new and fantastic strain of coffee beans.”
He’d gone to obtain samples to see if his company, Boulder’s Best Brew, would be interested in distributing them.
“I felt a blow at the back of my head like an explosion,” he continued. “After that, I regained consciousness chained and was trussed like an animal, with a headache the size of Denver.”
His eyes were haunted as he paused. “I had no idea where I was. I’d gone down in the wilds of the Mexican jungle. Carlos, the two employees who’d traveled with me, as well as my Spanish interpreter, had vanished—either dead or captured, too. I was a prisoner, with no way to contact you or Sean or even the American embassy. Worse, I had no idea why.”
Though he paused as if inviting comments, Lucy didn’t interrupt. Holding her gaze, he swallowed and continued.
“They tortured me enough to put me on the tattered edge of crazy. Without my interpreters, I couldn’t understand most of what they asked me, though after a while I realized they thought I’d stolen something. Instead, I tried to figure out a way out of there, a way home to you. I began making up lies to keep them from torturing me more. But no matter what they did to me, I couldn’t tell them what they wanted because I truly didn’t know.”
“They? Who were they?” she asked, her throat aching at the haunting look on his face. “Who did this to you?”
He winced as he shrugged. “As best as I could tell, I was held prisoner by a major Mexican drug cartel.”
“Did you tell them that they had the wrong person?”
“I tried. But since my Spanish is extremely limited, the explanation I tried to give them fell on deaf ears.”
“You’re lucky they didn’t kill you.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “At first, I dreamed of escape, of home. After a while, I mostly dreamt of death. I wanted them to just go ahead and kill me. Get it over with. But they wouldn’t end my suffering and let me die.”
His voice broke and he looked down briefly before continuing. “I still don’t understand why not. Drug cartels like this one are ruthless. They usually kill spies or anyone who pissed them off without blinking. You’ve heard the stories of the mass graves found near the border, where they lined their enemies up near a shallow ditch and shot them in the back. But not me.” He sounded bitter, but this time, she understood why.
“For whatever reason, they kept me alive, using me as entertainment. Bored? Go torture the prisoner. Can’t sleep? Then make sure the prisoner doesn’t, either.”
She shuddered at his words, aching, wanting both to stop him and let him go on, hoping maybe once he’d told the story he could purge the horror from his system.
“I hated them with a passion,” he continued. “Though I was careful not to reveal the depths of my rage. As it became more and more clear that they had no intention of killing me, I knew I had to get out. If I could escape, I could try to get home.
“I tried to formulate a plan, but came up with nothing. The only thing I knew for sure was escaping wouldn’t be easy. My captors fed me just enough to keep me breathing, no more. Weakened by starvation, I could barely walk, never mind hike through miles of jungle to search out civilization and rescue.”
“Oh, Tucker. I’m so sorry.”
He went on talking as though he hadn’t heard her. “Basically, unless there was a miracle, I knew I was a dead man. I’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. My luck had finally run out.”
“How’d you escape?” she asked.
His gaze cleared and he dipped his chin. “A rival drug faction ambushed my captors. The ensuing shootout left several dead, many more wounded, while the rest fled. I was left, alone and forgotten in my jail cell. By then, circumstances had extinguished even the smallest flicker of hope. I simply waited to die of starvation and neglect. I hoped I wouldn’t linger—after all, how long could my body hang on by the proverbial thread?”
He went silent.
“But you were rescued. By whom?” she prompted.
“The DEA had someone undercover. Apparently, they learned of my capture and got me out. After that, everything was a blur. The next thing I knew, I found myself in a hospital in San Antonio, Texas, under heavy guard. I was questioned by some military-looking types, who’d claimed to be DEA. My repeated attempts to contact my family had been met with refusal. I was told only that making any outside contact could endanger my life. I was so heavily guarded that I felt like I was a prisoner again.”
“But they finally let you go?” she asked. “Do you have any idea why?”
“No. But once my fever was gone and I could keep solid food down and stand unassisted, they finally released me. They even arranged for transport, driving me here in one of those nondescript, law-enforcement type vehicles and dropping me off.” He flashed her a smile, a shadow of the carefree grins she remembered. “And here I am.”
“And here you are,” Lucy echoed. She wanted to go to him and hold him, but instead she kept herself still, hands clenched together. Her anger now directed at herself, she wondered how to tell him what she’d done. Tucker had already been through hell.
Before he’d disappeared and supposedly died, she’d waited forever for him to propose to her. Instead, he’d let his wanderlust haul him all over the globe, unwilling or unable to commit.
And now, believing him dead for over a year, she’d gone and gotten herself engaged to his best friend.
She felt ill, positively sick. Barely two weeks ago she’d agreed to become Sean’s wife.
“Why did they think you were dead?” she cried. “I would have moved heaven and earth to find you if I’d had the tiniest bit of hope that you’d survived. But they said you didn’t. They said it was you.”
“I…” Closing his eyes as though by doing so, he could block out all emotion, he shook his shaggy head. “I don’t know. They didn’t say anything about this when they debriefed me. You really thought I was…”
“Yes. Dead.” She spoke deliberately. “You were killed in the plane crash.”
“Lucy, listen to me. I wasn’t in a plane crash,” he said, his raspy voice simmering with undercurrents of lingering fury mixed with exhaustion.
So they were both angry. And maybe one of them was crazy. But which one? She was beginning to wonder.
“There was a plane crash,” she insisted. “We were told you were dead. The plane went down, exploded on impact, killing all on board. They identified Bruno, and Carlos, the man you’d gone to meet. And they found your wallet, though the…remains were too badly charred and scattered to know for sure.”
“Who told you this?”
“The authorities, of course.”
“Oh, Lucy.”
Unable to sit still any longer, she got up and crossed the room to stand in front of him. “I thought you were dead.” Unthinking, she reached out her hand to him.
While he didn’t recoil, not exactly, he shifted and moved enough so that her outstretched fingers didn’t come in contact with him at all.
As she slowly lowered her arm, he stared at her silently, as a stranger might, offering no embrace, no kiss, nothing to show that they’d loved each other once.
Twisting the ring on her finger, she realized it was a very good thing she and Sean had gotten engaged.
Tucker’s gaze followed the motion. “Let me see your hand.”
The ring. Sean’s ring. Slowly, she lifted her hand, wincing as he took it, raising it so the large ring glittered in the sunlight streaming through her front window.
“Nice.” Jaw clenched, he fairly spat the word. “Who?”
“I thought you were dead,” she cried.
“Who?” he demanded again.
Taking a deep breath, she told him. “Sean.”
He jerked back, clearly stunned. “Sean? Sean Morey?”
“Yes.” She inhaled, exhaled, scrambling for a rational explanation and finding none, except…there was always the truth. “I waited for you, but—”
“Obviously,” he bit out. “Whatever happened to I’ll love you forever?”
“Don’t be like that.” She threw her words at him, using anger to cover her pain. “You were dead, Tucker. For over a year, I mourned you. Sean was here for me. Even…”
“Even before my so-called death?”
Inwardly she flinched, but reminding herself that she’d resolved to stick with the truth, she lifted her chin. “Sean and I were friends, Tucker. Nothing more. You know that.”
“Obviously you were more than that.”
Ignoring his sarcastic reply, she kept on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Friends,” she said firmly. “But while you were traveling around the globe in your never-ending search for the elusive perfect coffee bean, Sean stayed here and kept me company.”
“I’ll bet he did.” More than bitter, he sounded furious. As if he had a right to be.
“I waited for you,” she sighed. “And if you hadn’t died, I’d probably still be waiting for you to get tired of roaming the world.” This was an old argument and one that had never made the slightest impression on him before.
Nor did it appear to now. Eyes narrowed, he continued to watch her. “So you’re telling me that less than one year after my so-called death, you got engaged to my best friend?”
Squaring her shoulders, she stared right back. “You were gone an entire year. Twelve long months without a single word from you.”
“It. Was. Not. My. Fault.” He ground out the words.
She almost hung her head. Instead, she lifted her chin and let him see the agony in her eyes. “Nor was it mine.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” he said. “I died and came back to life, and returned home to find out you’ve moved on.”
“I just did the best I could to try and live my life.” The ache in her throat told her she was perilously close to tears. Circumstances and events had changed them both. Things could never be the same between them.
Except, she thought, horrified. There had been another change, the biggest one of all. Now, she had a son. They had a son. Eli, Tucker’s child. Even though she’d only learned of her pregnancy after the plane crash, even if things had been different and Tucker had returned a year ago from his coffee expedition, she would have been unwilling to use their baby as a reason to tie him to her.
Just as she wouldn’t use it now. Still, she had to tell him.
As she opened her mouth to speak, her front door opened, making her jump.
Sean. Ah, crap, she’d forgotten. Glancing once more at Tucker, she hurried over to the foyer. “Sean, there’s—”
“Happy Fourth,” Sean interrupted, pulling her close in a one-armed hug and kissing her hard on the mouth before releasing her. Closing the front door quietly behind him so he wouldn’t wake the baby, he came inside, carrying several plastic grocery bags.
“Sean, I need—”
Oblivious, he pulled her in again for another quick kiss. “Hey,” he said, grinning. “I snagged a perfect watermelon and picked up some of those diet drinks you love so much.”
“Great. Um, there’s been a change of plans.” Wiping her hands nervously down the front of her shorts, she once again found herself struggling to find the right words. Sean eyed her curiously, his smile gradually fading.
Finally, she simply moved aside and gestured toward the living room and the man who stood silently watching them.
Taking a step forward, Sean’s expression changed when he caught sight of Tucker. Shock flashed across his face, then disbelief, and then finally, joy.
“Tucker?” Sean managed, talking a halting step forward. “Is it really you?”
“Yep,” Tucker rasped, eyeing his former best friend with narrowed eyes. “It’s me, all right.”
“Tucker?” Juggling his bags, Sean moved closer. He glanced from Tucker to Lucy, then back again. “How… What?”
When Tucker didn’t answer, Lucy swallowed and took over. “It’s really him, Sean. He’s—”
“Actually here,” Tucker finished for her, pushing a hand wearily through his hair. “In the flesh, still alive, though barely.” Swaying slightly, he flashed Sean a tightlipped, humorless smile. “Surprised?”
“Surprised isn’t the word!” Depositing the bags on the floor, Sean crossed the room and guy-hugged his best friend, grinning. If he noticed Tucker’s lack of response, he didn’t comment. Instead, he grimaced before stepping back and cocking his head. “Where the hell have you been, man? We thought you were dead.”
“Long story,” Tucker replied. When his gaze found Lucy’s, she read a regretful warning in his blue eyes. Warning against what? Against Sean, his—no, their—best friend?
Damn. Stunned, Lucy continued to study him, unable to help herself. His auburn hair looked much the same, though duller. He wore it longer and much shaggier. His clothing hung on his tall frame and had the battered look of worn hand-me-downs. The sallow color of his skin spoke of illness. Still, she found him too beautiful for her own good.
She felt a moment of sorrow, which she squashed. Shaking her head, she swallowed, the knot in her chest tightening. Blinking back sudden and unwanted tears, she busied herself with grabbing the grocery bags up off the floor and carrying them to the kitchen so she could unpack them. Busy work, busy work, as if by keeping her hands occupied she could hold back the flood of emotions.
Still, she could only hide out in the kitchen for so long. Eventually, she had to go back to where the two men continued to talk quietly.
Returning, she got about halfway there when a loud wail split the air, making her freeze in her tracks. Eli, waking up from his nap. And she hadn’t yet managed to tell Tucker that he had a son.
Chapter 2
Cripes.
Tucker stiffened, glancing from Lucy to Sean, then back to Lucy. “What was that?”
Opening her mouth to speak, Lucy decided she’d be better off showing rather than telling. “Just a minute,” she said, and hurried from the room to get her son. Their son, actually.
Screwing his chubby little face up in preparation for a louder cry, Eli whimpered instead as he caught sight of her. His blue eyes, so like his father’s, fixed on her face and he cooed happily. The sight of him made Lucy grin despite herself. She reached for him, lifting him and settling him so his head was on her shoulder. He smelled of baby powder and milk. Perfection, all in one small bundle.
“Hi, Eli,” she murmured, patting his back softly. “Did you have a nice nap?”
“You have a son?” Behind her, Tucker’s voice, completely devoid of emotion.
“Yes.” She tensed up again, which alarmed Eli. His bright eyes went wide and he scrunched his face, as though trying to decide whether or not to cry. “Shhh, sweetheart.” She gave him a soft kiss, before turning slowly.
Tucker stood in the doorway, frozen. The look on his face fell somewhere between shock and disbelief. At least, she thought sadly, it wasn’t horror.
At least he hadn’t died not knowing he had a son, as she’d thought.
From somewhere, she dredged up a smile, not sure why this miraculous homecoming wasn’t going at all the way she’d always imagined it would, back when she’d refused to give up hope that they’d find Tucker alive.
“You and Sean have a son,” he said, his voice wooden and bleak.
