Closing his eyes, he lowered his head to her soft lips, giving in to the fierce desire. Letting his hands roam, feeling the firm warmth of her body beneath the cool silkiness of the dress, he heard the catch in her breath. But when he fumbled with eager fingers to untie the halter top, she pulled away.
Desire checked, the rage simmered back and he clenched his jaws, forcing his hands to his sides. “Danielle, why do you do that? You make me crazy and then you quit.”
He couldn’t miss the bright spots of color on her cheeks. “It’s hard for me too, Rowan, and I always end up feeling bad because of your ribs. I’m sorry.”
When he saw the frustration in her eyes, he felt like a jerk. He shook his head, knew he needed to get a grip. “No, I’m sorry.” Grabbing her hand, he tried to smile. “Let’s go and get this party over with.”
* * *
Janice stood next to Khalil and scanned the large, flagstone patio with its strategically placed lights and artfully scattered beach furniture. Ralph and Marion sat chatting with Derek and Gabriel while Chad and Bettina tended the grill. Michael stood next to Chad, but Danielle and Rowan were nowhere in sight. Breathless with anticipation, she thought about the visit from Michael that afternoon. Rowan’s friend had been so kind, so concerned. She and Khalil would do anything for their only son. She just wanted to beg Rowan’s forgiveness and tell him how wrong she’d been.
Oh dear Lord, there he was. She took a step forward, only to feel Khalil’s hand on her arm. “Not yet Janice, give Rowan some time and space, like Michael told us. Let him relax with everyone first. We’ve waited years. Surely we can hold off for a few more minutes.”
Hearing the firmness in Khalil’s tone and seeing the determination in his eyes, her shoulders drooped and she acquiesced. Trying not to stare, she watched Rowan and Danielle surreptitiously. Rowan had shaved the beard and his hair was shorter. But his face seemed hard, and he looked so thin. Smiling at how his demeanor softened when he looked at Danielle, she thought he must love her very much. Her smile faded. So far, he hadn’t so much as glanced their way. The look on her husband’s face stopped her again. “OK, fine. I can wait.”
* * *
Surveying his friends and family relaxing together against the backdrop of the molten sunset, Rowan knew he was fortunate. He also knew that there couldn’t be a better bunch of people to be stuck with on an island paradise. Why then, did he feel so irritable? Maybe it was Derek, giving him dark glances while he hid next to Gabriel. Or the shy smiles from Bettina. It was a credit to Chad that his impulsive, passionate sister hadn’t run squealing into his arms.
Spotting his parents, he frowned. So, they couldn’t wait to see him. Well, the sooner he talked to them, the sooner he could be done with them. Jaw set, he looked at Danielle. “Will you help me talk to my mom and dad?” Still feeling bad about his earlier anger, he grabbed her hand and drew it to his lips.
Danielle’s brilliant smile lifted his heart, and with her hand firmly in his, he headed across the patio. His mother watched him and so did his father. They stood still as statues, staring at him, and then Janice stepped forward with Khalil lagging behind her. Face to face, he gazed from one to the other. They looked older and excitement lit their faces. But he felt empty and had nothing to say.
Janice took a step closer, reaching out. Seeing his father grimace, he didn’t move when Danielle pulled her hand from his, and his mother’s quivering arms went around him and tightened in a hug. He winced and she pulled back, hands clutching his arms, looking up at him, biting her lip. He could see her tears, ready to overflow. “Oh Rowan, it’s so nice to see you. It’s been too long and I want you to know… I’m so sorry, for everything. I was so wrong, all those years ago.”
Staring at his mother, the old resentment rekindled by her faltering words, he raised a brow. She was sorry? What the hell was he supposed to say? That he forgave her? Khalil stepped forward and took a hold of her arm. His father looked apologetic. “Hello Rowan, we’re so glad to be here. I’m sorry for your mother’s outburst. It’s just that we’re both excited to see you.”
Michael appeared at his side with a tall, fizzing glass in one hand and a can of Budweiser in the other. “Hey Rowan, it’s nice to see you out and about. I brought you a Jack and Coke. Have a drink.” Blue eyes sharp and assessing, his colleague glanced from Janice to Khalil, and back to him. “Janice, how are you this evening? It sounds like you and Marion have prepared a feast for us. Whatever it is smells great. Danielle, you look fabulous.”
Grateful for Michael’s timely intervention, needing to quench his burgeoning animosity before berating his mother and ruining the evening, he grabbed the drink and tipped his head back. Taking a deep swallow, he realized too late that the mixture must be Jack Daniel’s with a splash of Coke. While he inhaled pungent fumes, the whiskey burned its way down his throat. His nose ran, his eyes watered, and he started coughing. Michael slapped him on the back. “Whoa there, take it easy brother. Janice, you wouldn’t happen to have a Kleenex, would you? Looks like Rowan could use one.”
His coughing fit distracted his mother, and Khalil stepped forward with a handkerchief. For as long as he could remember, his father had kept a pressed white handkerchief in his pants pocket. Shoving the drink at Danielle, who stood next to him snickering, he grabbed the handkerchief and muttered a strangled, “Thanks, Dad.” After wiping his eyes and nose, he took the glass back from Danielle, shot Michael a dirty look, and frowned at his parents.
Khalil spoke first. “We are very happy to be here. This is a beautiful place to live. Your mother’s going to revamp the landscaping. Can’t you imagine the flowers she’ll grow out here?”
Janice chimed in, giving him a forced smile. “Oh yes, we’re so happy to be here. It’s been such a pleasure to meet Danielle, too. You have…” His mother’s gaze wandered to his wrists, and her eyes widened. “Oh dear…”
Taking another, smaller swallow of mostly whiskey, he sniffed and wiped his nose again. This was not going well. Looking around for his cohort, he saw that Michael had backed off a few steps and stood sipping the Budweiser, watching the interplay between him and his parents with a slight smirk.
Danielle spoke up. “It’s been great to meet you both. I’m so happy we’re all here together. The house and the entire estate are amazing. Don’t you agree? I’m hoping maybe Rowan will teach me how to surf. He’s told me how much he loved the water, growing up.”
Grateful for her ability to put everyone at ease, he ignored the pain in his ribs and put his arm around her. “Dad, Mom, I’m glad you like it here. I know it was a sudden change. Ah…it’s too bad my problems disrupted your lives.” His comments sounded stilted and he panicked. Agreeing to see them had been a colossal mistake. He wanted no part of his mother’s remorse or his father’s kindness.
Khalil waved a hand and smiled at him. “Nonsense, we’re ecstatic to be here. Since I retired a year ago, we had nothing holding us in California. But now, I think your mother needs to help Marion, so we can all sit down to the meal they’ve worked so hard to prepare.”
Janice smiled again, but he thought she looked strained and unhappy. “We are thrilled to be here, and I can’t wait to start working on the flower beds. I hope you enjoy the dinner. We prepared some dishes you always liked. Perhaps we can chat later, but your father’s right, I need to help Marion.”
Relieved to see them go, a headache starting behind his eyes, he watched his father guide his mother toward the others. Michael stepped back to his side, a satisfied look on his face. “That went well, don’t you think? You know I’ve always got your back. Oh, Danielle, I keep forgetting to tell you. My mom loves your mutt. Damn thing follows her all over the place.” Saluting them with his beer, Michael turned and sauntered off.
Danielle giggled and he frowned down at her. “Did Michael plan that?”
Giving him a quick shrug, she slid from beneath his arm and grabbed his hand. “Beats me, but it’s nice to know Shasta’s in good
hands. Michael told me his mom picked her up, but my attention has been focused on you.” Her smile was sweet. “Let’s say hi to Chad and Bettina and get something to eat. I’m starving, how about you?”
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Two Weeks Later – Fourth Week In August
Rowan stared at Chad and Michael in disbelief. “You decided what?” When his two friends had asked to meet him in the study, he’d been interested. But now, leaning back against the leather sofa, observing their smug faces, he felt sideswiped and it stung.
Chad sat across from him in a chocolate-brown leather chair that matched the sofa, feet up on the coffee table between them. His friend looked solicitous. “Rowan, calm down, please, and listen to reason. We know you’re suffering and need help. That’s all this is about.”
Glaring first at Chad and then at Michael leaning casually against the wall, he thought nastily that this was about the two of them getting carried away with being in charge and taking care of him. “You could have asked me before you hauled someone clear the hell out here – and from South Dakota?” Thoroughly frustrated, he shook his head, trying to stave off encroaching anger.
Michael shoved off the wall and stalked around the room, running a hand along the floor to ceiling mahogany shelves, filled with what must be hundreds of hard cover books. In the central, communal area of the house and one of the few rooms with no windows, at first Rowan had thought the study seemed cozy, but now it felt closed in and stuffy. A musty scent hung in the air, tingled in his nose and he sniffed, feeling the first inkling of a sneeze.
Michael stopped and stared at him, hands on hips. “It’s a done deal, Rowan. The guy’s here and he’s spent a lot of time studying the information we gave him. He’s a psychiatrist with years of experience treating Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. You will meet with him this afternoon, so suck it up and don’t be a stubborn jerk.”
Chad sighed and smiled kindly. “His name is Angelo Blevins and he seems like a cool guy. To be honest, we figured it would be better if you didn’t have time to dwell on him coming out here. If we screwed up on that, I’m sorry. But I’m with Mike on this. Now’s not the time for your stubbornness.”
Gazing moodily from one to the other, he knew they were right that he needed help. Raising his hands in defeat, he gave each of them a hard stare. “OK, whatever you want, I’ll do it. I’ll meet with the guy every day for the rest of my life, if that’s what you want.” He lowered his hands and smacked them on his knees. “But you know what? I was interrogated at Quantico. I didn’t have a lobotomy. Would it kill either of you to ask me about what I need?”
Chad and Michael exchanged glances. He saw Michael grimace and give a quick, negative shake of his head before Chad spoke. “Yeah, we know how you were interrogated and that’s part of the reason we went ahead and made these arrangements.”
Shock crackled through him at his colleague’s revelation and he sat up straight. “What did you say? What exactly do you mean – we know how you were interrogated?”
His two friends exchanged glances one more time, stoking his anger and frustration to the breaking point. When Chad spoke again, he could see the sadness in his friend’s eyes. “Mike and I thought we should know what happened, in order to help you. So I hacked the video records from the brig.”
Humiliation burned hot in his face. Breathing hard, fists clenched, he stared at Chad. Shifting his gaze, he saw that Michael had tensed up and stood watching him through narrowed eyes. “You…you had no right, neither of you. How could you do that?” Briefly covering his face with his hands, he hunched over on the sofa as the anger dissipated into intense hurt.
When he looked up, Michael relaxed his stance and gave him a pleading look, which he thought seemed out of character for his hard-nosed friend. “Rowan, we didn’t do it for fun or for some damned voyeuristic reason. We needed to know what techniques the CIA agent employed, so we could help you. Do you realize that you were subjected in five days to what CIA interrogators normally progress to in a month? We appreciate what you did for us. If you’d given in to that asshole, we’d all be incarcerated now.”
Chad nodded and looked grim. “Watching that video is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. No one else will ever know what we saw. And when you’re ready to take out Sal Capello, I’m with you. We’ll make the world a better place – without him.”
His humiliation deepened as it dawned on him that Michael and Chad felt sorry for him. And because of their pity they’d acted without any consideration for what he might want or need. Goddamn it, they were supposed to be his friends. Looking from one to the other, feeling utterly betrayed and mortified that they’d seen what Sal Capello had subjected him to, he shrugged. “I need some time to think about this. Is that all right with the two of you? Maybe you’d like to consult with your – oh excuse me – my psychiatrist and see if it’s all right if I think.”
Michael raised an insolent brow and headed toward the door. Chad stood up and looked at him. “Rowan, I’m sorry. I wish I could make you understand. Maybe we can catch up later and have a Jack and Coke on the beach.”
His plans for the afternoon were none of their business. He raised a hand and dropped it back in his lap. “Yeah sure, whatever you want.” Chad looked unhappy, but didn’t say anything else, just followed Michael and closed the door, leaving him alone. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he leaned back again, stretched his bare feet out in front of him and closed his eyes.
Last winter in Denver, sitting on the hard bench in the bowels of the airport, he’d felt like a pawn on a chess board, being maneuvered where he didn’t want to go. He snorted. That had become the story of his life. And now he’d been manipulated again – by the men he trusted most. Angrily rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he thought about Michael and Chad. Along with Gabriel and Ralph, they had risked everything for him. Where would he be without his misguided, despotic friends?
The sound of the door snapped his eyes open. Expecting to see Chad or Michael, he frowned at the man who stepped inside and stopped, then stared at him with a confused look on his face. This must be the shrink. Still irritated, he straightened up and leaned forward. “Can I help you with something?”
The man came further into the room, giving him a momentary shiver of fear. What if this was an operative who’d managed to breach their security? But the man stopped in front of him, smiled, and held out his hand. “Angelo Blevins here and you must be Mr. Milani. It’s a great pleasure to meet you, although I apologize for disturbing you. I didn’t think anyone would be in here.”
What could he say to the guy? God only knew what Michael and Chad might have told him. Realizing the psychiatrist still stood in front of him with his hand out, he scowled. Screw him if he thought he was going to stand up and shake his hand. Meeting the curious eyes, he sighed. “Doctor Blevins, my colleagues just informed me that they made arrangements with you to be here. That was not my choice.”
The doctor slumped into the chair on the other side of the coffee table. Clasping his hands between his knees, the older man gazed at him quizzically. “Your friends didn’t consult you about working with me?”
Smirking at the psychiatrist, he wondered if he was being played. The man looked clever. “That is correct, Doc – can I call you Doc? Please call me Rowan. Only Georgia Cristo calls me Mr. Milani, because of an ill-conceived desire to preserve my dignity, which is obviously a lost cause.” He clamped his mouth shut. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d revealed way more of himself than he’d intended. And all the shrink had done was sit there and stare at him.
A smile lit Angelo’s slender face. “Ah, Georgia, she’s quite the lady and a good friend. Please feel free to call me Doc or Angelo, whichever you’re most comfortable with.” Tucking shoulder length graying hair behind his ears, Angelo frowned at him over narrow, wire-rimmed glasses. “I must confess, it troubles me that you were not involved in the di
scussion of your need for psychotherapy. Pardon me for stating the obvious, but you are, after all, the intended recipient of my care. It seems only logical that you would have played an integral part in the decision.”
Disgruntled and completely disarmed by the canny psychiatrist, he didn’t know what to say. Jamming his fingers along the stubble on his jaw, he gazed into the man’s perceptive blue eyes and thought, what the hell. He was never going to win anyway. “Doc, you’re here now. We might as well get started. Want some coffee?”
Angelo’s kind face beamed. “Coffee sounds fantastic. I don’t suppose anyone out here likes Starbucks?”
Chuckling at the doctor’s hopeful look, he stood up. “You’re in luck. Starbucks is the only coffee I drink. A pot of Italian Roast is brewing right now. Follow me.”
Angelo walked with him to the communal kitchen down the hall where he filled the to-go mug Chad had snagged from his hotel room in Sioux Falls and poured another steaming cup. The psychiatrist gave him a grateful smile and sipped. “Ah, now this is good coffee. Thanks.”
Back in the study, he sank into the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table, staring at the lanky man sprawled in the chair facing him. The good doctor looked relaxed and happy and reminded him of an aging hippy, but he wasn’t fooled. The guy was sharp. “All right, Doc…what’s next? Thanks to my colleagues, you probably already know more about me than I do. And I’m sure Georgia had plenty to tell you.”
Frowning and shaking his head, Angelo held the coffee cup in both hands and looked at him. “Your friends told me you’d been through a rough interrogation period. They provided me with background information and a timeline of events. Georgia said you’d exhibited symptoms of post traumatic stress, which is my specialty, and one of the reasons I’m here.”
That sparked his interest. “Yeah Doc, why exactly are you here? Living in Sioux Falls, you had to see and hear something about this mess. Hell, you could be assisting America’s most wanted homegrown terrorist.” He drew a quick breath. It hurt to say it out loud. What was it about the shrink that made him spill his guts without even realizing it?
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