Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

A nnabelle couldn’t concentrate on her work. Not while Noah was in the room with her. She was meant to be drawing new scenes for her latest Jade Justice graphic novel, but all she wanted to do was sketch the brooding man who sat sipping coffee at her kitchen island.

To be fair, it wasn’t entirely Noah’s fault she couldn’t concentrate. Every time she dragged her attention away from him, she’d start thinking about the night before. It felt as though her Gringotts vault had sprung open, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get it shut.

The memories were so clear in her mind that it was as if she were reliving them—the screeching alarm, the acrid smell of smoke, the darkness, and the gunfire. And the pure, unadulterated terror of going outside. Even thinking about it made her heart race and her hands shake. But more than that, it felt like it was happening now, not in the past. It was so real that she found herself scanning the loft to ensure there were no smoldering embers just waiting to reignite. As the urge to run and hide grew almost overwhelming, her breathing became shallow, and she rocked in her seat, unable to stay still.

“It’s called hypervigilance.” Noah’s calm voice was a lifeline, saving her from drowning in her memories. “It’s common with people who’ve suffered trauma, like cops.” He smiled ruefully. “Focus on what’s real around you. The feel of your desk, the pencil in your hand, the sound of cars passing by. Remind yourself that this is now. The present. And you’re here. Not there. Then concentrate on your breathing, counting it in and out, pausing briefly between breaths. That’s it,” he said encouragingly.

Annabelle hadn’t been consciously aware she was following his instructions as he spoke. For a few minutes, he talked her through breathing and reminded her where she was and that she was safe—all in that low, soothing voice of his.

“Better?” he said at last.

She did an internal audit and noted that she was calm, focused, and present.

“Much. Dr. Mallory taught me something similar but sometimes it’s hard to remember what to do.”

He shrugged. “We’ve all been there.”

She smiled. “You truly are the full-service, close-contact, security specialist, aren’t you?”

Whatever he was going to say was lost in the ringing of this phone. Noah glanced at the screen, and his expression softened. “My boys.” He gestured with his phone.

“I’m good,” she told him. “I can get back to my drawing now.”

He nodded once and answered the video call, resting his elbows on the counter while he faced the screen.

“Dad!” The excited voice made Annabelle grin. “Can we stay another thirteen days? I’ve been picked by the first team to play in the semifinals, even though I’m not really part of the official team, and the game’s in thirteen days.”

“Twelve days,” his older brother, Jacob, interrupted in his slightly deeper voice. “The game’s on the thirteenth. Really, we need to stay another two weeks. Is that okay, Dad? Gran says your job might be done before then, but we can stay anyway, can’t we? I mean, we miss you and all, but this is the semis.”

“I might even get through to the finals,” Sam said excitedly. “We have to stay, Dad. The team needs me. They’ll lose without me.”

“He’s right,” Jacob said. “He’s their only hope.”

Noah grinned at his kids. “Well, the client I’m protecting doesn’t go to court for another week or so?—”

“So we can stay?” Sammy shouted. “Dad says we can stay!”

“I didn’t say that,” Noah corrected patiently. “But I don’t see why you can’t hang around and play in the game.”

“He definitely says we can stay,” Sammy shouted, even louder this time. “I need to tell Coach.”

“How about we finish talking first before you do that?” There was laughter in Noah’s voice.

“Oh yeah, right.” There was a beat of silence while Sammy thought of something else to say. “Is work okay, Dad?”

“Why, thank you for asking. Yes, it is.” Noah’s eyes sparkled.

It was clear to Annabelle that Sam just wanted to end the call so he could tell his team he’d be there for the game.

“Who’s that?” Jacob asked. “The lady behind you.”

Noah glanced in her direction. “That’s Annabelle. She’s the client I told you about.”

“The artist?” There was definite interest in Jacob’s voice. “Is she drawing a comic book right now?”

Noah cocked a questioning eyebrow at Annabelle.

“Yes, I am,” she told him.

“Can we see?” Jacob asked excitedly before Noah could relay Annabelle’s answer.

He looked at her. She shrugged. “Sure.”

“You don’t have to,” Noah said to her, earning groans and complaints from his kids.

It was her turn to laugh. “No, it’s fine.”

“Be polite,” he told his boys as he wandered over to her drawing table.

“Oh, Dad,” Jacob grumbled. “We’re always polite. What do you think we are? Delicates?”

“Delinquents,” Noah corrected absently.

“That’s what I said,” Jacob said, in that long-suffering tone only kids can pull off.

“Boys, this is Annabelle Simmons, a famous comic book artist. Annabelle, these are my sons, Jacob and Sam.”

“Hey, guys.” Annabelle waved at the phone screen, feeling comfortable meeting them this way, as most of her social interactions happened online.

“You’re famous?” Sam said in awe. “Did you draw Spiderman?”

“No.” They were hilarious. “But when I was just starting out, I worked on a Fantastic Four book. Does that count?”

“Which one?” Jacob asked. “We’ve got some Fantastic Four comics back in Houston. I bet we have yours.”

“I don’t know. It’s a pretty old one now. I have a copy, though, downstairs in my storeroom. You can come read it when you’re back in Houston if you’d like?”

Jacob’s eyes went wide, but he was thirteen and far too cool to express his excitement. “Can we, Dad?”

“Sure, as long as it’s okay with Annabelle.”

She nodded. “Anytime. I’m always here,” she joked. “There’s a whole filing cabinet full of comic books downstairs. You’re welcome to read any of them.”

“Wow,” Sammy said, his eyes wide. At nine, he was unafraid of showing his awe.

“Are you drawing something now?” Jacob asked, angling his head as if to better position himself to see her board.

“I’m working on my new graphic novel about Jade Justice. She’s a heroine I came up with on my own.”

“Without Marvel?” Jacob looked intrigued.

“There are lots of comic book artists who don’t work for Marvel or DC.”

He nodded sagely, like he already knew that. “What’re you drawing?”

“Well…” She turned toward her board but realized where Noah stood wouldn’t provide them with the best angle. “May I?” She gestured to his phone.

“Sure.” He handed it over.

Annabelle flipped to the rear camera so the boys could see her board. They let out excited exclamations.

“Is that guy turning into a werewolf?” Jacob asked.

“Is he the bad guy?” Sammy added.

“Are you drawing in pen?” Jacob rushed on. “How do you erase your mistakes?

“I wish I could draw like that,” Sammy said in admiration.

“Okay.” Annabelle shifted in her seat, turning more fully toward her board. “If you have some time, I can answer all of your questions and show you how I draw a panel. But it will take more than a few minutes. Do your grandparents need you for anything?”

“Gran?” Jacob shouted. “Do you need us, or can we watch Annabelle draw?”

There was a muffled response in the background before Jacob stared into the phone. “She says she’s grateful for a break.”

Annabelle swallowed a giggle. “Well, if it’s okay with them and your dad…”

She looked up at Noah, who spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Who am I to stand in the way of a comic book tutorial?”

“That’s a yes,” Sammy clarified for her.

Amused, Noah returned to sit at the kitchen island while Annabelle fitted the phone into a moveable mount attached to her drawing table. When it came to online lessons, she was a pro.

“Right.” She reached for her pen and held it up under the phone’s camera. “Let’s start with what you use to draw. It’s important that an artist has the right tools. Now, although I sketch things out in pencil first, I always use these pens to go over the lines and refine the drawing.”

A minute later, she’d forgotten all about the attack on her building. She’d even forgotten that Noah was in the room. Her full attention was on taking the boys through the step-by-step process of drawing a comic book panel.

It wasn’t lost on Noah that Annabelle, Sammy, and Jacob had forgotten he existed. Even from a distance, he could tell she was completely absorbed in explaining her work to the boys, and they were equally enthralled by everything she told them.

“Good luck getting their attention after this,” Therese said from beside him. “You’re lost to them now. Nothing you do will ever be as cool as being a comic book artist.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Annabelle was clearly in her element. Her enthusiasm and delight were contagious, and her skill was evident to anyone. And judging by his sons’ excited questions, they were just as thrilled as she was.

“The kids like her,” Therese said. “And I like her. When are you going to admit that you like her too?”

Noah scowled at her, noticing for the first time that she wore her wedding dress. “What the hell?” he muttered.

Her grin was smug. “After giving birth—twice—I could never get back into this, but now I’m dead, it fits perfectly.” She smoothed her hands over the white lace minidress that clung to her curves like a second skin. “Only a teenage bride would think this was classy. Still, I always thought it was a shame that wedding dresses are worn only once. I mean, they cost a fortune, and you should be able to get your money’s worth out of them.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “When you marry Annabelle, tell her to buy something she can wear again. She won’t regret it.”

“Marry?” Noah blurted before he froze, waiting for Annabelle’s reaction to his outburst.

But she was far too involved in her impromptu lesson to pay him any attention, which was a relief.

He glared at his dead wife. “That’s not funny,” he whispered. “And I keep telling you—she’s just a client.”

“No,” Therese said. “You keep telling yourself she’s just a client.”

Noah got up from the bar stool and strolled toward the living room windows on the pretext of checking security. All the while, he mumbled to the ghost haunting him.

“Don’t you have something better to do than harass me? Isn’t there a light you can walk into? Look hard. I’m sure you’ll see it.”

“See?” Therese said, sounding pleased. “This grumpy attitude is a sure sign you’re ready to move on. You never would have suggested I ‘go into the light’ a year ago. Back then, it was all: ‘I miss you so much. I’m lonely without you. How can I raise our kids alone?’ Admit it, Noah, you’re at the stage where you want to let go; you’re just too stubborn to do it.”

“You may not have noticed, being dead and all, but I’m in the middle of a dangerous op here. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about romance.” He peeked out from behind the shutters to find quiet, empty streets.

“Uh, please.” Therese waved a dismissive hand as she dramatically rolled her eyes. “Nothing has ever distracted you from ‘romance.’” She made air quotes around the last word.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he growled.

“I lived with you through lots of ops, cases, missions, whatever, and you always had time for sex.” She shrugged. “You’re good at compartmentalizing.”

“I’m not talking to you about sex,” he hissed, aware Annabelle wasn’t that far away.

“Why not? We always talked about it. After we turned thirteen and suddenly noticed each other’s bits, it was all we could talk about. You’ve never had a problem talking about sex.”

“With you. I mean, talking to you about having sex with you.” He glared at her, wondering if she was being deliberately obtuse. “I’m not talking to you about sex with other women.”

“Uh,” Rodrigo said from behind him. “That’s good to know.”

Noah ran a hand down his face while Therese laughed her head off.

“Sorry, man,” Noah said. He probably should have felt embarrassed but he didn’t. At this point, he was beyond humiliation. He was in a whole other zone. “I never heard you come up.”

“Who were you talking to?” Rodrigo said. “I don’t see a phone.”

Oh, what the hell, Noah thought. He’d made an ass of himself anyway. Being honest couldn’t possibly make it worse. “My dead wife, that’s who.”

He expected Rodrigo to back away slowly before running to Rochelle with the information that Noah had lost all of his marbles and shouldn’t be on the streets, let alone on the team. They’d recommend a nice padded cell. One with soothing piped music. Not to mention wall-to-wall appointments with a whole team of psychologists.

Instead, Rodrigo nodded sagely. “Is she giving you dietary advice? Mi abuela doesn’t shut up about healthy eating.” He shrugged. “Hey, where I’m from, we see all kinds of stuff other people don’t.”

“And where would that be, exactly?”

“South of here,” Rodrigo said with a grin, covering a lot of territory with his reply. “So, you’re arguing with your dead wife about sex. You do know you can’t do that with a ghost, don’t you? I mean, hermano , that’s just not right.”

Noah hung his head for a second before trying again. “Why are you here?” he asked Rodrigo.

His teammate’s demeanor changed, and suddenly, he was all business. “Elle got back to us on the Demons’ business dealings. She has a lead on some business going down tonight. You got a minute to go over the plan?”

“I like him,” Therese said before sauntering over to join Annabelle’s art lesson.

“Sure,” Noah said. “When you say tonight, exactly what time do you mean? There’s no way I can skip out on Annabelle while she’s awake, not without the entire building knowing about it.”

“We’re talking standard crime o’clock. Dark and very late. Or early, depending on your perspective. Abasi has the details.”

“That could work.” At least he’d be able to ensure she was sound asleep when he slipped out. He raised his voice. “Bella, I need to go talk to Rodrigo for a minute. Somebody’s monitoring the cameras, and Violet’s keeping an eye on the roof and the fire escape. You okay with that?”

Annabelle blinked at him several times. As though it took effort to focus on what he was saying.

“Sure, go.” She waved him off and, a second later, was deep in art mode again.

“Don’t worry,” Therese said unhelpfully. “I’ll watch over her.”

With a sigh, Noah followed Rodrigo out into the stairwell.

“Bella?” Rodrigo said with a grin as they closed the door behind them.

“Shut up,” Noah grumbled.