“Bree…” Her dad stammered. “I’m not who you think… I mean, I used to be…” He growled. “I’ve known McQueen, err, Senator Sullivan, for years. He and I were in Iraq together back in the early nineties, not in combat, but as Army intelligence officers. We answered to General Schwarzkopf. You know who he was?”
“Stormin’ Norman? Sure. He led coalition forces in the first Gulf War.” There was something else her dad wasn’t telling her. “Why didn’t I know this before?”
“Because your father never left the intelligence business, sweetheart,” Bree’s mother replied. “He’s worked for Senator Sullivan ever since McQueen hung his shingle on Capitol Hill.”
Bree didn’t know what to say, except… “But I thought you were in insurance?”
“Well, I kinda was, sometimes. I needed a plausible cover story, honey. I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes shot to her mother. “Do you really work at that pre-school, Mom? Or are you some kind of spy, too?”
Lark’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes, I most certainly work at the pre-school. I’m the sane one in the family. Honest, we never meant to deceive you, but it was important your father maintain a plausible cover.”
“And it worked thirty-some years,” Sullivan muttered. “Then you had to retire, you quitter.”
Brandon beamed. “Yes, sir, I had better things to do with my life than skulk around back alleys and infiltrate cartels.” He held both hands up before Bree could ask about those cartels. “Later, honey. There are things I can’t talk about, but I’ll tell you what I can. Just not here.”
She turned her glare on Senator Sullivan. “That’s how you knew I had a daughter. When we talked, you distinctly asked if I was raising Robin to be just like me. You knew! But I was too worried to put two and two together that day.” Her glare pivoted back to her dad. “It was you! You’re Mister X. You sent Kruze to rescue me.”
“Mommy, shhhhh,” Robin ordered, her pointer finger on her lips and her brows pinched into a scowl. “Mister Kruze is really tired. You hafta be quiet, too.”
“Yes, sorry, sillykins,” Bree told her daughter. “But Dad…” she hissed.
The enormity of her father’s deceit hit hard. He’d been a covert operator all her life. How had she never seen the signs? Because she’d been busy with school and college and work, then being a single mother and… Because she’d trusted him. Lord, she needed time to process this enormous hit. Her father was Mister X. Lord, what next?
Brandon stepped in and wrapped both arms around her. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, baby girl,” he said as he kissed her temple. “But when you went missing, no one at USA Timeline would talk to me. I had to go undercover as an insurance actuary auditing their operational risks to get deep enough inside. Financially, USA Timeline is on shaky ground. Lantz hasn’t maintained adequate business capital for the last two years. Not like it matters anymore, but his outlays far exceed his income. Plus he’s had a few lawsuits lately, one of them a multi-million-dollar sexual harassment suit he settled out of court. But once I had access to his secretary’s computer—”
Bree pulled away from him. “You found proof?”
“Not right away. I was there for weeks with nothing to go on but my gut. But someone left a file on my briefcase one morning, and I believe it was his secretary. A copy of your article and a dozen pictures of you with Derya Najjar were in that file. It was your story and those pictures you sent that finally told me where to look for you. If you hadn’t sent them, if that unknown person hadn’t given them to me…” He shuddered beneath her. “With Senator Sullivan’s help, we were able to identify the area as Eastern Anatolia and then—”
“I sent a drone to scout those gawddamned mountains for a missing United States citizen,” Sullivan growled.
“Aw, you sweared.” Robin waggled her pointer finger accusingly at the senator. “Mommy says intelligent people never have to say naughty words. You should say you’re sorry.”
Sullivan had the grace to smile. “You’re right, Missy Banks. I am sorry I used inappropriate language. Thanks for reminding me to watch my Ps and Qs.”
“Mommy, what’s Ps and Qs?”
“They’re manners,” Bree’s mom filled in. “Now hush, little one, and let your mommy talk.”
“Dad,” Bree cried. “I’ve been wondering who cared enough to look for me, and it was you all along.” She broke down. There were more questions she needed answered, but not now. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Her dad squeezed her tight, like he’d never let her go. “This is the first time since you came back to us that I feel—”
“Downright chipper?” Bree interrupted, trying to inject some levity into this awesomely heavy meeting but failing miserably.
He choked. “Exactly. You’re finally home, baby. And that young man of yours is the one who gave you back to us.”
“We never gave up hope, sweetheart,” her mother murmured, as she joined the group hug. “Your dad never quit looking for you.”
“Me, me, me,” Robin called out. “I wanna hug, too.”
Bree grabbed her daughter in one arm and her parents in her other. For so long, she’d thought they didn’t understand. But they did. They always had. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so awful to you,” she confessed as she held her family tight.
“No, sillykins, you’ve been healing,” her mother whispered into her ear. “And we owe Kruze everything. Because of him, we can all finally heal. Without him—”
“There is no ‘without him’, Mom. I’m going to marry that man. All he needs to do is wake up and say yes.”
“I love you, Mommy,” Robin said brightly, burrowing deep inside the huddled Banks family. “And I love Mister Kruze, too.”
Bree closed her eyes and inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. Before she married Kruze, she needed to tell her daughter exactly who he was.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The next time Kruze bobbed to the surface, he shook the pain meds off and peeled his eyelids open. Damn. He thought he’d dreamed she was there, but Bree was gone. He scrubbed his chest a quick once over, searching for his holster and pistols. But he had no weapons on him or nearby. Damned disconcerting. It was dark outside, which meant late night or early morning. He had no idea where he was, except in some hospital. That much was obvious. The sting of antiseptic in the air was hard to miss. He forced his butt to rise and shine, but ended up needing both side rails just to hoist himself into a sitting position. And he was hungry.
Food could wait. Kruze hit the call button. He wanted his pants and boots. He was going home to Bree. Anyone who tried to stop him was going down.
The nurse who answered his call was a gorgeous blonde, her long hair pulled back in a high, tight ponytail that made her look mean. Blue eyes. Pink cheeks. Lush, kissable lips. Dressed in dark navy scrubs with tiny white polka dots, she was model-worthy. Tall, sleek, and full of curves in all the right places. She was everything he used to want. And there he was in a light-blue hospital johnnie, feeling like a broken, old man and not interested in the likes of her at all.
“Where’s my woman?” he bit out. “Where’s Bree Banks? She was just here. I know she was.”
“Well, good morning to you, too, Mr. Sinclair,” the nurse answered brightly. “Miss Banks went home last night to get some sleep, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon. I’m Gina, and I’ll be your nurse for the day. Dr. Lister will be in shortly to see you. I hope you’re not cold. Bree kept your window open while she was here. She said you like fresh air, so I opened it as soon as I came on shift. Is that okay or do you want it closed?”
“Well, yeah, open’s good,” Kruze replied, worried that Bree had suffered through more panic attacks while he’d been out cold.
With practiced ease, Gina removed his IV line, then, like it was no big deal to manhandle a guy’s junk, that damned catheter. “Let’s get you into the bathroom for a nice, warm shower, shall we?”
“
Yes, let’s,” Kruze muttered testily, his eyes watering from that invasive procedure. There was no sense arguing. Nurses had all the power. He sure as hell didn’t.
By the time Bree returned, he’d showered and shaved, had eaten breakfast and been put back to bed like the weakling he’d realized, in the shower stall of all places, that he was. His warden, aka Gina, was off badgering someone else, and he was ready to get the hell out of there. Just needed clothes to do it. Clothes, boots, and Bree. Not necessarily in that order. But Kee-rist, he was tired.
“You’re awake.” And there she was, coming into his room with a large shopping bag in her hand. Dressed in jeans and a button-up blouse, Bree’s hair was loose on her shoulders, instead of braided or clamped down tight. Sexy-casual was a good look on her. She jostled the bag. “This is for you. I didn’t know all your sizes, so Chance ordered them from the big-and-tall store you Sinclair boys shop at. Underwear, socks, t-shirts, and sweats when you’re cleared to leave. Sorry, no boots. But Pagan sent along slippers.”
“Come here,” Kruze ordered, needing her in bed with him, not standing across the room.
Without a word of protest, Bree set the bag on the counter, slipped out of her shoes, and climbed under the blanket with him. Tears shimmered in her baby blues. “You scared me to death,” she cried, burrowing her nose into his neck, her fingers sliding soft and gentle under his hospital gown and across his chest. “I thought I’d lost you. Then you passed out, and your neck was bleeding! You crazy, crazy man. I didn’t think we’d get you here in time.”
Kruze drew the blanket up and covered them both. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, pressing a fervent kiss to her forehead. “I scared myself, too. Didn’t think I’d get to you in time. Felt like that damned helo was flying backward.”
Tipping her head up, she kissed the underside of his chin. “I need to tell you something.”
His heart started thumping. This was it. She was too smart to stay. Karma was coming back on him, making sure he knew he didn’t deserve Bree. Not after the way he’d used all those other women. “Okay,” Damn. “So give. What’s up?” Let me have it.
Her cheeks puffed with a breathy sigh. “I’m sorry, but I… I…”
“Just say it, sugar. You know I love you. You can tell me anything,” Kruze said even as he prepared for heartbreak. She might be snuggled in bed with him now, but that was because Bree Banks was too kind for her own good. He was still the damned loser in the family.
“I… I…” Her entire body clenched as the words spewed out of her. “I stole your wallet after you saved me and nearly got shot running up that hillside to get me safe inside that Blackhawk in Turkey. I still stole from you, and I’m so, so sorry. I just… I just…”
The weight of the world lifted off Kruze’s heart. Gawddamn. He wrapped her up tight in his arms, and just laid there, because seriously? Nothing else mattered. Certainly not the wallet he’d thought he’d lost.
“I was selfish and bitchy, and I wanted you to pay,” she admitted, her voice growing squeakier. “So I stole from you, but I never took a single dollar or used your card, and… Can you ever forgive me?”
He tucked his chin into his chest so he could look down at his woman. There were tears glistening on her lashes. “Nothing to forgive, sugar. You already own my heart. Everything else comes with it.”
“Well, it’s in there with everything else.” She nodded her head at the rolling table where she’d set the bag. “But I promise, I didn’t take a thing.”
“No worries. Promise. I wondered where it went, but there was nothing in it that meant anything to me. The card’s linked to whatever appropriation Senator Sinclair gets his black ops funding from. No one but me could’ve used it. Its sole purpose is to reimburse whichever military department gets me into or out of whichever foreign country I’m working in. And the cash” —He sucked in a deep breath of the woman he adored— “was just in case I got caught. Which I never do. Where exactly are we?”
“Penobscot Valley Hospital, Lincoln, Maine,” a distinct, male voice answered from the doorway. Jared Lock’s brows lifted to his hairline when he saw Bree snuggled in bed with Kruze. “You do know that’s against hospital rules, don’t you?”
She started to extricate herself, but Kruze clamped on tighter, not letting her leave his side. That day was over. “Jared, hey. Good to see you again. This is Brianna Banks.”
“We’ve already met. You look a lot happier this morning, Bree.”
“I am. You’re leaving?”
“Yes, ma’am. Just came by to see how this guy’s doing before I take off. By the looks of things, I’d say he’s ready to go home.”
Kruze soaked up the sensation of the tender woman snuggled up to him. Felt a lot like he was already home. “Where next?”
All he got for an answer was a big, shitty grin. “You know I can’t tell you that, sir. I’d have to kill you if I—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Been on some of those deployments myself. Be safe out there. Where’s home?”
“No place in particular. Been working out of Little Creek-Fort Story a while now. Heading East this afternoon.”
Joint Expeditionary Base Little Creek-Fort Story was the East Coast home for Navy SEALs, which meant Jared was attached to whichever SEAL team was heading to the Middle East. Kruze didn’t envy him. He knew the odds. Pararescue specialists were some of the most respected fighters in the Air Force, make that the entire military. Their two-year training, the infamous pipeline, boasted one of DoD’s highest attrition rates.
Because of the pipeline, PJs were the quintessential jacks of all trades. Not only were they paramedic certified, they were fully capable combat warriors, mountaineers, deep-sea rescue divers, arctic survivalists, swimmers, skydivers. Hell, they were anything a rescue mission might demand. They were some of the most athletic, physically fit men Kruze had ever had the pleasure to serve with. But they paid for it. Well-trained or not, a man didn’t parachute straight into raging combat and always come out unscathed.
“You do know your brother used a tourniquet to slow the bleed on your neck,” Jared drawled. “Didn’t stop it, but he was able to contain it. Damnedest thing I ever saw.”
“Yeah, the son of a bitch was always trying to kill me when we were kids, too.”
“He only did that because you were running a hundred four temp. Not sure if anyone’s told you yet, but that carotid was the lesser of your problems. You were damned near septic by the time we got you to Loring, then airlifted you here. Do me a favor. Stay away from screwdrivers.”
“He will,” Bree said, her hand still possessively on Kruze’s chest.
He ran his free hand over his head. His hair was still wet from his shower, but damn. He had to be the luckiest man in the world. “Sounds like a plan. Keep in touch.”
“You bet.” Jared ducked back into the hall and the door shut soundly behind him.
“Now where were we? I love you, woman. I need you. Now. Lose those jeans.”
She shimmied out of them. “Are you sure about this?”
“Never been more sure,” he breathed, before he covered her lips with his whole mouth, needing the taste of her like a man needed air to breathe. The sweetness of her gentle touch on his body flooded his senses. Kruze knew what it meant to truly live and love, after he’d honestly believed he was going to die. Even that had been bittersweet, because he would’ve gladly given his life to save Robin and Bree. But holding Bree now was a miracle come true.
His hands skated under her panties and over her smooth, lush rump. To the pit of her knee. He tugged that knee up and, with one possessive jerk, her panties were gone and she was straddling his belly. Her knees locked carefully against his sides. The warmth of her core settling over him was all he needed. Kruze looked up at the truest angel on Earth. She was smiling down at him. Bree Banks was part of him, the best part. She was his heart.
She leaned forward, her light-green, button-up blouse still covering
her top and the blanket covering her backside. Her fingers danced over his chest, and her hair fell softly on his shoulders and into his face. She eased her body down, then reached between them and aimed him to where he very much wanted to go.
Thankfully, she had something stiff enough to aim. He’d been worried the catheter had had its evil way with his cock. But no, he was back in business. His eyes rolled back at the sheer joy of their union. This coming together was more than just warm, slick pleasure. It was the quintessential joining of two lost souls who recognized each other, treasured each other, and were desperate enough to take a chance on each other. Kruze could almost hear the fans going wild in the stadium of his life. At long last, he was where he belonged. He might not be able to get exactly where he wanted, not here in a hospital bed, but he’d finally hit that ball out of the park. Home run. He was home safe.
Tipping forward, he buried his nose in the front of Bree’s shirt, breathing in the sultry feminine scent of her breasts, so damned thankful she’d acquiesced as quickly as she had. That she’d taken a chance on loving him again. That she trusted him.
“We shouldn’t be doing this. No condom, sugar, and if we keep doing what we’re—”
“We’re already pregnant,” she said slyly.
“Fuck, really?” he blurted, pulling back far enough to look into her eyes. “I mean, sorry. Didn’t mean that, not the way it sounded. But are we? We really made Baby Bean?”
“I know what you meant.” Bree grinned back at him, her smile made of all the things men went to war for. Devotion. The love of a good woman. The joy in that radiant smile. “I just had a feeling you were right about Baby Bean, so I bought a pregnancy test kit as soon as you were out of surgery, and I knew you were okay. Then I double-checked with Jared, just to be sure. He took some blood and gave me the good news late last night. But I’d rather not tell anyone else until we get through our first trimester, okay?”
We. Our first trimester. Best words ever! Kee-rist! Kruze could hardly see through his tears. “So we’re what, barely pregnant?”
Damned (SOBs Book 4) Page 30