Out of Time

by Monica McCarty

  Even if she didn’t deserve it.

  “Kate is lucky to have a brother like you looking after her,” she said softly.

  Maybe he’d heard something in her voice. His fury seemed marginally less intense. “You don’t know Kate. She doesn’t need anyone looking after her.”

  “Maybe not, but it must be nice to know someone is.”

  He didn’t say anything, but just stood there staring at her, seeing far more than she wanted him to.

  She straightened her back and lifted her chin. She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. She was strong, too. She didn’t need anyone watching her “six” as Scott called it. She’d done the best she could with the nightmare she’d found herself living in. All by herself.

  But it would have been nice to have someone to turn to.

  After a moment, he finally broke the silence. “One of my men was killed.”

  Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with a gasp. “Oh my God, how horrible.” No wonder he was so upset. She remembered what he’d told her about less than half his men making it out of there. “It was one of the guys who survived the missile attack?”

  He nodded, his expression hard again. “In case you are keeping score: your team nine, mine five.”

  She flinched. In other words, he was laying one more death at her feet.

  She understood his lashing out, but it didn’t make it any easier to take. “I’m so sorry, Scott.”

  It was the most natural thing in the world to put her hand on his chest as she looked up at him. She’d moved closer without even realizing it.

  All she’d meant to do was comfort him. She wasn’t trying to seduce him or get him to kiss her again.

  But Scott was too angry, too upset by the loss of his teammate, and too ready to blame her to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  He jerked her hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me, Natalya.” She didn’t miss the reemergence of her birth name. The lines had been redrawn. “I told you I’m not going to make that mistake again. You can stop looking at me with those big bedroom eyes because I’m not going to fuck you.”

  The harshness of his words seemed to startle them both. She sucked in her breath and jerked back as if stung. Scott was always—unfailingly—a gentleman. He’d never spoken to her so crudely. She’d wager he’d never spoken to any woman so crudely, and it seemed to sum up just how low his opinion of her was.

  The unfairness of his accusation struck a flare inside her. She lifted her chin and met his gaze with anger of her own. “Go to hell, Scott.”

  She started to walk away, but then thought better of it. She turned around with a smile that was decidedly wicked and let her gaze move slowly down his body to come to rest on the big bulge in his shorts. She swept her tongue over her lips thoughtfully—suggestively—and when she saw his fists clench, she looked back up at him with a very sultry haze in her eyes. “But if I wanted you to fuck me, you can be sure I would do a hell of a lot more than put a hand on your chest.”

  She had the pleasure of seeing the shock on his face before she turned and walked away. Mic drop that!

  Thirteen

  Colt made it to the gate right as it was closing. He suspected the agent let him through because she felt sorry for him. He looked—and felt—like hell.

  He could tell himself that it was from flying back and forth across the country—his flight from Alaska had just landed when Taylor got ahold of him—the two to three hours of sleep he’d averaged in the past two weeks, or investigating the death of the kid he’d recruited for Team Nine before he’d left, or the overindulgence in his drink of choice (whiskey), but he knew it was more than that. He was being eaten up from the inside out by guilt and regret. He’d fucked up royally and it showed in every line, every pore, every fiber of his body.

  He saw Kate right away as he came on the plane. She was seated in the third row looking out the window. Making note of his late arrival, the flight attendant joked, “I guess it’s your lucky day. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket.”

  He wanted to tell her that he’d already won the lottery and had thrown it away, but she wouldn’t understand. No surprise since he didn’t understand himself.

  “Yeah, I’ll do that,” he said instead.

  What were the chances of hitting the lottery twice? If the look in his ex-wife’s gaze was any indication when she looked up at the sound of his voice, they weren’t good.

  Her eyes flashed and her mouth tightened to white before she gave him the cold—no, arctic—shoulder and turned her attention back to looking out the window.

  Scott had warned him that she wouldn’t be happy to see him. But Colt didn’t give a shit. She wasn’t the only one pissed off. She could hate him all she wanted, but she didn’t get to be stupid about her safety. He didn’t want her anywhere near this. Travis’s murder had shaken him. This thing wasn’t over and he wasn’t going to let her get caught in the cross fire.

  The seat next to her was occupied, but he’d paid through the nose for another first-class seat and the old lady next to her was happy to switch places when he explained the situation.

  He thought Kate would drop the “ex” into the conversation when he referred to her as his wife, but she just pressed her lips tighter.

  That was one good thing about all that breeding, he thought. Kate still didn’t like to make scenes, and she must have realized that he would have made one.

  She waited until he’d taken his seat and the flight attendant started the announcements before commenting, “I didn’t realize you could be charming.” She was apparently referring to his conversation with the old woman. He wasn’t sure a forced smile or two qualified, but maybe in comparison. “But next time you might want to add a razor and some eye drops in the mix. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

  Fourteen to be precise—since the day he’d found out the truth about her and Scott—but who was counting? “I would have if I hadn’t received a call from your brother that you were being stubborn and stupid.”

  She ignored his emphasis and drew up her shoulders, clearly affronted. “Scott didn’t say that.”

  “Maybe not in so many words, but it’s true. What the fuck were you thinking, Kate? You should have called me. No matter what you think of me, you know I can keep you safe.”

  She brushed away his anger with a lift of her chin. “I thought you were on your way back from Alaska.”

  He gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t yell. “I was. I got the call when I landed. But you could have waited for me to get back.”

  Her gaze met his. “I didn’t want to wait.”

  That was fucking obvious. He stared at her angrily until she turned away.

  Except she didn’t turn away. He did. He didn’t want to fight with her. He wanted to . . .

  Fuck if he knew.

  He didn’t know what to say, so he got angry. That was what he always did. It was easier than dealing with emotions that he didn’t know how to handle.

  Colt let her go back to looking out the window. What did you say to the woman who’d given you her heart and you’d thrown it back in her face?

  No, he’d ripped it apart, set it on fire, and then thrown it back in her face. That was his MO. Scorched earth. Leave nothing behind but destruction, desolation, and ash.

  He should have cherished her. Kate had been the only good thing to happen to him other than being a SEAL. But instead of giving everything like he had with the team, he’d held back the love he had for her, pushed her away, and refused to give her the one thing she really wanted but would never ask for: a baby.

  Why? Because he was a fucking coward.

  He’d feared that he wasn’t good enough. That he would screw up a kid the way he was screwing up his marriage. He feared losing her every day they were married. But that fear was infinitely better than the reality of actually doing s
o.

  Ironically, he’d thought loving her would take him away from the team, but it had been their divorce that had done that. Being around Taylor . . . Colt hadn’t trusted himself. He’d wanted to kill him, and Colt was too good at doing that to chance sticking around.

  He’d taken a job with CAD and had slipped deeper and deeper into the black hole he’d made of his life. He was good at his job—even liked the challenges sometimes—but without his teammates or Kate there wasn’t any light to balance the dark.

  He hadn’t realized what a difference she’d made—how much he needed her—until she was gone. He felt as if he were living in a one-dimensional, black-and-white slide show that moved from op to op with nothing in between. The job wasn’t enough anymore.

  He’d never gotten over her, and he never would. He loved her. Had always loved her even when he thought she’d betrayed him. If only he’d realized it before he’d made her hate him.

  She had to hate him, didn’t she?

  If she didn’t, she should. He could be a mean bastard when he wanted to be. He knew how to inflict pain. How to make someone hurt. It was the law of the jungle where he’d grown up—when someone hurts you, you hurt back harder so they never do it again.

  It was a real fucking talent.

  With everything he’d said to her—everything he’d done—he had no right to think she could ever forgive him, let alone care about him again.

  But she still wanted him. He knew that from the kiss. It was a crack. Something to work with.

  For the past three days, he’d been thinking about what she said. “Let it go.” Let her go. Maybe that was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t. It might make him a selfish asshole, but if there was any chance left for them, he was going to take it.

  He knew he didn’t deserve her. He never had. But at one time she’d thought he was good enough and maybe that was all that mattered.

  First he had to stop lashing out—stop being angry all the time—and start owning up to his mistakes.

  “I fucked up,” he said, not knowing what else to say. He’d apologized before, but she needed to hear it again. She turned to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. For everything. For pushing you away, for not trusting you, for saying all those horrible things in the hospital”—he drew a deep breath, the dark, twisting knot in his chest burning again—“for leaving you alone to mourn our daughter.”

  He barely managed to get the word out, his throat was so thick.

  He saw the surprise and the flicker of pain—raw pain that cut right through him—before she looked away. It was the first time he’d acknowledged the baby they’d lost.

  He didn’t think she was going to respond. But maybe she was only giving herself a moment to collect herself. When she turned back, her expression was calm and serene, with no sign of emotion.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Colt. What happened with Scott and the baby probably only hastened the inevitable.”

  He didn’t let her reflective, “it’s in the past” tone discourage him, which wasn’t easy. “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “In therapy I realized that I’d pushed you into marriage and family even though it wasn’t something you’d ever wanted.” She shrugged, the wistful smile tearing him to shreds. “Some people just aren’t cut out for tricycles and picket fences.”

  It was the truth, so why did it make him feel shittier to hear her say it? He’d never wanted any of that. Never thought it was right for him. Until he’d met her, and she’d made him change his mind. She’d made him think that he could make her happy.

  But he’d never believed it—not really.

  Maybe that had been the problem. But he swore if she gave him another chance he would make it his life’s mission to prove her right. He’d do whatever it took to make her happy. Colt didn’t have any right to ask for that second chance, but he was going to do it anyway.

  He took a deep breath, knowing she had every right to laugh in his face for what he was about to say. “What if I want to be that guy?”

  She didn’t laugh. She just gave him a long look as if trying to figure out whether he was serious. Apparently she must have realized he was. She shook her head. “It’s too late for any of that.”

  The sadness and bitterness in her voice made him realize that she wasn’t just talking about him. When their marriage had been destroyed, she’d lost picket fences and tricycles in more ways than one. Complications from the miscarriage had resulted in Kate’s not being able to have children. He didn’t even want to think about what he’d said when she told him.

  “Karma.”

  “God, Kate, I’m so sorry. I wish I’d been there for you.”

  She must have realized he meant it. Her eyes filled with tears, making his chest feel as if he’d just swallowed a bottle of acid. “Me, too.”

  He would have given anything to put his arms around her, tell her he loved her, and try to take her pain away, but he knew she didn’t want that from him. She didn’t want anything from him.

  But he intended to change that. He couldn’t go back in time and change what happened, he could only go forward. He would have to prove to her that it could be different. That he was different.

  He’d fought his whole life with the odds stacked against him; he would do it again. Except that nothing had ever mattered more. Not getting out of those foster homes, not becoming a SEAL, not Nine, not anything.

  This was one fight he had no intention of losing. He would do whatever it took to get her back. Even if it meant that he had to fight dirty.

  Good thing he was good at that.

  For the first time in a long time, the darkness that followed him felt a little lighter.

  * * *

  • • •

  Kate got angrier and angrier as the flight went on. Colt didn’t get to do this. He didn’t get to waltz back into her life when she’d finally picked up the pieces and say he was “sorry.” Sorry wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. And he sure as hell didn’t get to play on her heartstrings by offering up false fantasies. “What if I want to be that guy?” He’d had a chance, and as he said, he’d fucked up. There weren’t any do-overs for the suffering and heartache he’d put her through.

  What were they supposed to do? Try again and pretend none of it ever happened?

  What had really changed other than now he knew she hadn’t been lying about an affair? He was still ready to believe the worst of her. Just a couple of weeks ago he’d seen her go into a hotel room and accused her of cheating on her then fiancé.

  She didn’t want to think about how that had ended up. She’d been doing far too much thinking about that kiss as it was.

  But the sexual attraction between them had never been the problem. Clearly. Even now just sitting next to him—when he looked like hell—she could feel the quickening of her heart, the rush of blood through her limbs, the prickle of her nerve endings on suddenly sensitive skin, and the feeling that her senses were tuned to every small sound, movement, or shift in the air between them. The heat that radiated from his body didn’t help. He was crowding her. His shoulders were too broad—they kept touching her—and he was sucking up all the air!

  She’d been shocked when she’d looked up and seen him talking to the flight attendant. She’d never seen him look so ragged—even after a long op in whatever not-so-lovely part of the world they’d sent Team Nine to. He looked like a man being eaten away by guilt and cheap whiskey.

  Three years ago, after he’d said all those horrible things and left her in the hospital, she might have enjoyed it. She’d hated him then. Or thought she had. But now . . .

  Now she just felt sorry for him. He’d sabotaged his happiness because he thought that was his lot in life. Her problem had been not understanding that, and letting her happiness get caught up along with his.

  Colt had been dealt a bad hand, and he wa
s determined to play it out that way. No matter how much she’d loved him.

  Loved. In the past, she reminded herself. The past month of having him in her life again had been difficult, wreaking havoc on her objectivity and hard-won recovery.

  That kiss in the elevator was proof of just how much havoc. Undeniably, no one had ever made her as hot as her ex-husband, and maybe no one ever would. She could accept that. But it wasn’t a substitute for love, respect, and trust. Without those, all she had was a spectacular—really spectacular—climax and lots of misery.

  No thanks. Been there, done that.

  She wasn’t going to let him push his way back into her life and do it all over again. “What if I want to be that guy?”

  Every time she heard his voice in her head, and she felt the accompanying tug in her chest—no matter how small—it made her even more furious. She wanted to scream, yell, and rail at him like a madwoman. He didn’t get to be that guy. He’d has his chance. He’d done this to them, not her.

  Keeping that anger contained during the flight took up every bit of the good and proper manners that had been drummed into her since childhood. By the time they’d landed, picked up the car, and driven to the address she’d connected with Travis’s ex-girlfriend, Kate was close to violence. She, who’d never struck anyone in her life, wanted to sink her fist hard into that perfect washboard stomach—what almost-forty-year-old guy had a body like that anyway?—and return the sucker punch that he’d just given her.

  That guy . . . Her fists clenched. That guy wasn’t him and it never would be.

  She got out of the car and slammed the door, maybe a little harder than she intended. She just wanted to get this over with. The sooner they talked to Joelle—Travis’s ex—the sooner she could get rid of her unwanted bodyguard.

  “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I need you.”

  His eyes narrowed to green—piercing green—slits. Those stupid nerve endings were buzzing again. “Not a chance. And you need me whether you like it or not.”