Chapter Five

Wretched didn't begin to describe how he felt. Jorge returned with the meds, so Javier choked down the first dose, four pills that tried to stick in his throat. He fought to keep them down after his stomach rebelled and won that battle. Cecily fixed him a very small bowl of sherbet, which he ate. The cool contrasted with his fever, hot enough his skin ached as it baked. He thought he might improve after the dose, but it didn't work that way.

"It's not magic," his brother stated. "Probably take several rounds before you feel any different, just like antibiotics."

Javier groaned. First, he burned as if he'd been thrust into a fire as a human sacrifice, then he trembled with biting cold when the chills struck. His head pounded like a motherfucker and his stomach ached with nausea. Sometimes it just hurt with a sharp pain. Almost every part of his body betrayed him, sore and in misery.

"I think I might die this time," he voiced his fear, aware it wasn't logical or rational.

Cecily cried out in wordless dismay. It reminded him of the sound she'd made when he took out the financier on the roof. That seemed like a lifetime ago, not just days. Javier realized he had no idea what day of the week it was or how long he'd been ill.

"Don't say that." Her gentle hands placed another wet compress on his forehead. "You're not."

"I can call Dr. Russo back if you're worse," Jorge told him. "At least you're not delirious now."

"Was I?"

"Talking out of your head with the fever? A little. Are you worse?"

"No," Javier gasped. "I'm just not better."

"You will be. Give it time."

That prompted him to ask. "What time is it? What day?"

Jorge's voice had an almost tender note. "Do you have someplace to be? Midnight, and it's almost Sunday. I need to go sleep a little. I haven't since I got here. I'll be the one down sick next if I don't."

"When do you go home?"

Javier didn't want his brother to go but he had a family and a job.

"I don't know. Not until I see you're gonna be all right. I called Ava a while ago and told her I'd be here a few days more at least."

He had questions he wanted to ask Jorge but couldn't remember them. Confusion reigned in his brain, so he quit talking. Later he would ask.

"I'm thirsty," he complained.

Cecily held ice water to his lips, and he drank. After that, maybe he slept or zoned out or drifted into a coma.

The next time Javier had any awareness, Cecily poked four more pills down his throat, and he drank more water. She fed him beef vegetable soup with a spoon. He couldn't manage to hold the utensil with shaking hands.

On the third day, he began to feel like a human again. The headache diminished to tolerable levels, and he could eat a little more without feeling he would puke it right back up. The fever wasn't as high, or he had adjusted to it. Javier still suffered chills but not as intensely.

Propped against pillows, he searched for Cecily but only saw Jorge.

"Where is she?" Fear clutched his heart. He remembered all the insults she hurled at him and the sarcastic cracks. He hadn't been any better, dishing out crude names and harsh words. If she had taken his offer to leave, Javier wouldn't be surprised. He should never have forced her to go with him, not against her will. He had the time to bolt, to get out of town, and flee. Why didn't I? I wasn't thinking straight. If she had gone, he vowed he would find her once his strength returned. "Is she gone?"

Jorge sat down on the bed. "Sleeping. She's worn out, worse than I was. Is she really high society?"

"Her family was, and she's wealthy."

"So are you, brother. Why would you think she left?"

"I made her come with me, at first. She saw me make a hit. I told her when I first got sick, she could go if she wanted."

"And you were afraid she did."

"Yeah." Javier drew a deep breath and told his brother the truth he could barely admit to himself. "I love her."

Jorge's deep-brown eyes met his. "I know. She loves you too, man."

Trust had been difficult and so was the truth. "I never loved any woman before."

"That's good. Maybe you're not such a tough hombre after all, just a man."

"I've done terrible things, lived a horrible life, Jorge."

His brother shrugged. "You did what you had to do. That can be over if you want."

Being sick had changed Javier's perspective. So had loving Cecily. "I don't want to go back to the city."

"Then don't."

Javier covered his face with both hands. He felt better but not good. "You make it sound easy."

"It can be. Walk away from the past. You did what you thought you had to do. Do it again and change."

He returned from service a damaged man with no occupation, no skill except with a sniper rifle. Javier hadn't intended to become a hit man. It happened when someone he'd known in service suggested him and reached out. Now he saw he'd never faced reality. He had buried his emotions behind a cold exterior and pretended not to care because he did.

"Where would I go?"

Jorge laughed. "Come to Guymon to start. Or move to Flagstaff or Miami. Mami would like that."

Javier wouldn't. "Does she know too? Does Josie?"

"About your occupation? No. Rest a while. You look pale."

Javier closed his eyes. He couldn't handle more at this moment.

Two weeks after he became ill with malaria, he and Cecily left the hotel to continue their journey. In this age of technology, he'd sold his apartment with the furnishings over the Internet. Javier, at Jorge's suggestion, found a car service that would pick up and purchase any vehicle. He sold the Porsche and bought something he'd dreamed about as a kid—a pickup truck.

"Do you want to return to New York?" he asked Cecily.

"I don't care if I ever go there again."

"Good answer." If she had really wanted, he would have caved and gone back despite any risks, but Javier was glad they agreed.

"I love you, Javier. I'll go where you go."

He had confessed he loved her, that he'd never had these feelings for any other woman and hadn't expected he ever would. Expressing emotion hadn't been easy but he did his best. Maybe in time it would be simpler.

Jorge had returned home a week earlier. Since he'd ratted Javier out for being sick, Javier had talked to his mother and sister on the phone.

"Is everything packed and in the truck?" he asked Cecily.

She nodded, then planted a kiss on his lips. For the first time since his illness, his cock stiffened. If they hadn't already committed to check out, he would have booked another night and taken her. He craved her but he would make love, not have sex.

"Then let's go, mi Corazon."

Javier headed for the Gateway Arch, something they had seen through the hotel windows but never visited. He planned to surprise Cecily and visit the landmark. After they parked, they walked to the monument.

"You remembered I wanted to see it," she cried. "Thank you, Javier."

"De nada," he told her. "Let's ride to the top."

Once there, a few other tourists milled about the small room, gawking through the slanted windows. Cecily joined them but Javier had eyes only for her.

He reached into his pocket and removed a small box. After he felt well enough to leave the hotel, he'd done a little shopping. Before he went home, Jorge had helped him choose an exquisite diamond ring. It featured a pear-shaped center black diamond surrounded by both white and black diamonds. It had a matching wedding band.

At the top of the Gateway Arch, Javier knelt and cleared his throat. Cecily turned at the sound and gasped.

"What are you doing?"

"Mi Corazon, mi Tesoro, Azúcar, will you be my wife?"

The beautiful woman he had dubbed Cinder-fucking-rella the first night smiled through tears. "Yes, Javier, yes. I love you so much."

"I love you, woman, more than I'll ever know how to say or show you."

She offered him her hand and he slid the ring onto her finger. He stood and pulled her into his arms for a slow, sweet, lingering kiss. The tourists applauded and he whispered in her ear, "Let's go home."

In the new truck, as they left St. Louis behind, Javier asked the important questions he should have before.

"Do you mind if we maybe stay a while in Guymon?"

"With your brother's family?"

Javier shook his head. "What if I already bought a house?"

Her eyes became huge and wide. "Did you?"

He had money, he had superb Internet skills, and he had. "I did, yes."

"Tell me about it."

"It's made of rock and cedar," he told her. He opened his phone to saved photos of the place. "Six bedrooms, four bathrooms, multiple levels, a huge fireplace, an open floor plan, and more. It's beautiful. It's not three miles from Jorge and it sits well away from the street on the edge of town. Behind it, there's acres of open prairie. If you don't like it, we can sell it and move anywhere."

"It looks fantastic."

Since he continued to convalesce from malaria, they took the trip in two hitches, spending a night in Wichita, Kansas. The next day, Sunday, they rolled into Guymon, Oklahoma. The Manhattan socialite, the wealthy woman who had never eaten fast food until they traveled west, the daughter of well-known Broadway theater folk, Cecily gawked with delight. Javier had to admit the town wasn't so bad, after all.

"It's wonderful, like something from a movie."

She repeated the sentiment over a Mexican spread of tamales, enchiladas, and more at Jorge's, all made from Mami's recipes.

"I promise it's real," Jorge told her with a laugh. "Now, your house, that's like a Hollywood dream."

"It's not," Javier argued. "It's got Western style and space to raise a family."

Ava grinned. "When's the wedding?"

Javier and Cecily exchanged glances. "As soon as we can get a license. It won't be fancy. I don't care about the wedding. The marriage is what's important."

"Amen to that," Jorge said.

****

Cecily and Javier were married at Thanksgiving, in their new house, before the massive stone fireplace. Javier's mother came along with Josie's family and Jorge's. Jorge served as best man and since Cecily had few friends, Ava was her sole attendant. Their wedding reception was a Thanksgiving feast with both traditional American and Mexican dishes. For dessert, there was no pumpkin pie but a wedding cake.

Mami hugged Javier. "I'm glad you've settled down and moved out of the city. I might leave Miami, come to Flagstaff with Josie or even here. I'm tired of urban living."

"We have room for you here, if you didn't mind living with us," Cecily told her mother-in-law. Javier hid a grin. It seemed his bride would get the family she wanted with his and he would make fucking sure she had her happily ever after.

After everyone had gone home and the mess had been cleared, Jorge lingered. The two brothers smoked cigarillos on the wide back porch while the bride prepared for her wedding night.

"Now you need a job," Jorge told him, blowing a perfect smoke ring.

"I'll figure that out in time."

"And kids, you need some kids."

Javier grinned. So far, they hadn't told anyone but he shared the news with his brother.

"We've got that project started. Cecily's pregnant, due in May."

His brother pounded him on the back and shouted with delight. "That's awesome! Fast work, though."

Javier smiled. He wasn't going to admit, even to his brother, that he'd taken Cecily without protection and that although he never dreamed he'd want a child, fate had other plans. Now the baby represented their love and their future.

"Why wait?" he said.

"No reason. Isn't Cecily waiting for you now?" He snuffed out his cigar.

"Yes, thank you. I'll call you, maybe tomorrow."

"No hurry, hermano. You're finally home."

In their spacious bedroom upstairs, Cecily had lit many candles. Their soft glow illuminated her lying on the bed, naked and ready. The small swell of her belly pleased him as he shucked out of his garments.

"Come love me, husband."

"I do and will, forever, Mrs. Morales."

Javier came to her and kissed her mouth with tenderness. He cherished her body with his hands, caressing and stroking with gentleness. His mouth rained kisses down her throat, on both breasts, and on her belly, where his child grew. His desire grew and she spread her legs wide for him. He slid into her with finesse, his dick savoring the now familiar feel of her box around him.

He settled into place and rode her but with regard for the precious cargo within. Cecily had told him it was too early to matter and that nothing they did would harm the baby, but Javier wanted to use care.

They moved in tandem, their connection both physical and emotional until the climax shuddered them into pleasure, waves of delight that made his body tremble. He lost himself in it, savoring the wife he never dreamed he would have, a woman to love, who loved him too.

Mr. and Mrs. Javier Jesus Morales were home to stay.

The life they left behind had ended, but neither cared.

He once told her he was a loner, not a lover, but now Javier had become lover, husband, and would soon be a father.

Javier had cast aside his years as a sniper and embraced a new life, one of light and love. The sniper, the assassin once known as Ice Man, had melted as if he'd never been.

They were home to stay and as Jorge said, Javier had come home in every way.

The past would remain where it was, and he looked forward to the future.

The End