“We’re both trying. I know that, Ali.” He sighed. “Especially under these circumstances. Maybe, if we were back at Artemis, we’d have the time and environment where we could stop those knee-jerk reactions. But here, we’re going to stumble and fall sometimes. Look, we both have the hides of a rhino. I’m pretty confident that we’ll take each other’s trial and errors in stride.”
“How did you get so wise about people, Ram?”
Shrugging, he said, “Life 101 gave it to me, I suppose. And you’re right: I was a shadow in our team. I grew up like that. It was the only way I knew how to be.”
“I thought you were that way because I was a woman coming into your all-male team.”
“I was closed up before you came in, so this isn’t on you. I remained that way when you were there and after you left us. It had nothing to do with you.”
Relief plunged through her. “And all along, I thought it was me making you react the way you did.”
“No. It’s all mine to own. And I’m sorry you felt responsible.”
“In a weird way,” she confided, her voice raw with emotions, “knowing that helps me a lot.”
“What do you mean, Ali?”
“For all that time, even after I left the team, until just now, I thought it was my fault because you didn’t believe a woman in your team could be worth anything.”
“Well, to be honest, I did think that at first,” he admitted. “But as I got to see you out on ops, I changed my opinion. I grew to trust you out there just like the rest of the guys did. I never had a problem with you out in the field.”
“But you did elsewhere? Why?”
He looked uncomfortable, but answered her question as best he could. “It came from my growing up years, Ali. And it was very wrong of me to project the shit that happened in those years on you.”
Trying to put the pieces together from what he’d shared earlier with her, Ali’s mind spun with fragments of answers from him. “We all project on one another, Ram. That’s nothing new. I try to stop it when I catch myself doing it to you or someone else. It’s not fair to that person. You’re blaming them when they did nothing to you. Is that what you were doing to me?”
Moving around on the stool, Ram chose his words carefully. “I did project on you, because at that time, I was at a place when you were assigned to our team where I was working through a lot of bad feelings toward the person who was really at fault.”
“Another woman?” she guessed.
“Yes, it was.”
She could feel him not wanting to go anywhere else with this conversation. Ali had no wish to have Ram board back up. “Well,” she said gently, opening her hands toward him, “I’ve been wanting to be held, but I never thought it would be coming from you in my crisis. I’m glad it did.”
She saw something flare in his green eyes, a reflective look on his face as he studied her. The silence hung between them, but it was thoughtful, buoyed by their growing closeness. Ali felt so free now that she could talk with Ram without his defensiveness and her reactions in play.
“I’m glad to hear that, Ali. I really am. All I want between us is peace. Maybe, it’s time for us to work on a friendship with each other. I’d like that very much.”
She looked surprised. “I think we’ve been working toward friendship since this mission, Ram. Don’t you?”
Nodding, he said, “I guess so. Ali, I’ve never been friends with a woman before, so this is new territory for me. I’ll probably stumble around and make a lot of mistakes with you in the process. Are you ready for that?”
She grinned a little, rubbing her hands down her thighs. “Ram, you have nothing to worry about on that score. After all the kindness and support you’ve shown me and my folks . . . come on!” She saw relief and pride in his expression, as if that was exactly what he needed to hear from her. Ali realized Ram wanted to hear how she felt a lot more often than she was volunteering. He was like every human being—needing honest compliments so he’d feel good about himself. It would build his confidence, and best of all, create a bridge of trust between them. Never had she wanted anything more than to create that connection between herself and Ram.
He looked vulnerable, more like a little boy right now as they spoke to one another honestly, without holding back, for the first time.
“I like starting over with you,” he admitted gruffly.
“Friendship is a good objective for us to work toward,” she agreed softly. “I’d love that to happen for us.”
“Me, too.” Ram sat up, pulling his shoulders back, as if to get rid of some accumulated, invisible tension he carried. “I can be a good friend to you, Ali.”
“You already are,” she whispered, her voice filled with rising emotion. “You’re making it a lot easier for me to open up to you, Ram. I really need that in a relationship.”
“I’ll try to stay that way for you,” he promised. “But I’ll have my moments, too. I hope you can be patient with me, Ali.”
She got off the stool and came over, throwing her arms around his shoulders, giving him a swift, strong hug. Ram stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed in her embrace, as if never expecting that from her. Stepping back a few feet, she said, “I’m so glad you’re offering this to me, Ram. I never needed it more than right now.”
He kept his hands on his thighs and held her gaze. “I think I’m reading you right, Ali. I have to admit, I’m not always sure what’s appropriate between us. Like earlier,” and he hitched a thumb across his shoulder where he had held her in that embrace, “I wasn’t sure what was the right thing to do to help you. I knew I wanted to be there, to comfort you, but I wasn’t sure you’d even accept me holding you. This was only the second time it’s happened between us.” He wanted to add that their kiss in the cave in Sonora had given him the courage to reach out to her once more, but decided against it.
She sighed and her lips compressed for a moment. The look in Ram’s eyes broadcast his unsureness. “We can talk, Ram. We can ask one another if we want to be held. This is on both of us. I wanted you to hold me so badly earlier, but I was chicken. I didn’t have the guts to ask you to because of our past. I wanted your arms around me.” She gave him a tender glance. “And somehow, you cut through all that past we’d accumulated, saw what I needed and had the courage to just do it. You didn’t let the past stop you.”
“Yeah, well, what if in the future I read you wrong, Ali? What then?”
“We both will misread one another,” she promised. She reached out, briefly touching his heart with her fingers across the expanse of his t-shirt. “You have a wonderful heart-centered GPS that unerringly knows what someone needs, Ram. You need to just keep trusting that sense. I need to play catch up, but I’ll get there.”
Ali withdrew her fingers. “I promise I’ll do my best to make this work between us. You’re very important to me.” And she stopped, because she didn’t dare tell him any more than that. If Ram at all suspected her vivid, sexual dreams about them in bed, sharing white-hot intimacy, laughter, and good feelings, he’d probably back off in shock.
Ali was sure all the feelings were on her side, and that had to remain her secret. She would cherish any positive relationship with Ram and be grateful for whatever it turned out to be. It was far better than what they’d shared before, that was for damn sure. Anything was better than that toxic stew that had bubbled between them.
“You’re important to me too, Ali. Let’s keep talking. We need times like this alone and away from everyone. It will also help us be strong for your family if we’re strong for one another. And we’re sharing other good things that make us feel stable, comfortable, and complete. It doesn’t get any better than that, does it?”
CHAPTER 5
November 10
Tucson, AZ
Ram discovered during his three weeks with the Monteros that his favorite place to hang out was in the garage. He was good with mechanics, and had already fixed Diego’s lawn mower, his weed whacker, and in
stalled a new electric fan in Mary’s kitchen for her stove. He also liked being in Tucson because Ali was here, along with her warm, vibrant family. Because he’d never grown up in this kind of family environment, he was enjoying being part of Ali’s.
Cara, who was struggling with post-kidnapping trauma, was still indoors, usually in her room. He knew everyone reacted to trauma differently, and given that Cara was a person of a more delicate nature, he understood her fear of walking outdoors. She’d been kidnapped while walking down a neighborhood street in the late afternoon, and was still afraid of exposure to male strangers. She refused to take a short walk, even with Ram and Ali at her side, and didn’t even want to go into her own backyard and work in the garden. At least, not yet.
Taking out his carving knife, Ram decided to use this time to create a wood sculpture. These moments brought him the greatest pleasure and solace. Right now, Cara was out in the living room, knitting, and Ali was keeping her company. Mary was at a meeting at the reservation and Diego was at the pecan farm, where he worked as the manager.
His mind, hell, his heart, was now squarely centered on Ali. Since the day he’d had the guts to hold her when she needed to cry her heart out, everything had changed—remarkably, in fact. Did he want her friendship? Of course. But he wanted more than that, if he was honest with himself. He wanted her in his bed, in his arms—forever.
After having had a taste of how good he felt after opening up to Ali, he hungered for more intimate talks with her. Their last one had filled him with such hope, he was still on a high days later. And his feelings certainly went far beyond the “friendship” she’d proposed.
He was learning all kinds of fascinating things about Ali, too. She had taken him to her bedroom one day to show him the four shelves of horse statues made out of glass, metal, and plastic that she’d collected since childhood.
After that, whenever he could find a few moments, Ram was out in the garage, away from prying eyes, creating a horse sculpture from the ribs of the saguaro cactus. Diego had given him permission to use them because he had no use for the small pieces. He was thrilled with the idea and admired Ram’s woodworking skills.
Ram kept the horse he was working on under wraps. He always placed a dusty canvas cloth around it and hid it in one of Diego’s tool drawers, where Ali was less likely to stumble upon it. Every chance he got, he tried to come out here and do some work on it. Slowly, the horse was taking shape. It filled him with happiness to be doing this as a surprise for her. Ali had no idea that he loved carpentry and woodcarving.
Ali . . . his heart swelled with a deep yearning for her company. Over the last two weeks, Cara had needed her more than anyone else. As a result, he and Ali had spent a lot less time together. Ram was acutely aware of how drained Ali looked during the evening meals the family took together. On the plus side, Cara was now eating with all of them. It was a sign that she was emerging from the darkness within her, and beginning to heal from the kidnapping and assault.
From his own experience with PTSD, Ram could often tell where Cara was on any given day with her healing journey. But right now, he was focusing on Ali’s state of mind, concerned that she needed a breather. He wanted to get her out of the house for a while, both for a change of scenery and for a chance to get some alone time with her.
Ali, as the older daughter, took on way too much responsibility for the whole family, Ram had discovered.
The door behind him opened, and twisting around to look over his shoulder, he saw it was Ali. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, setting his carving knife aside and discreetly pulling the canvas cover over his secret project.
“I needed a time out. Want some company? I know you need your quiet time, too.”
He grinned and gestured to her. “Sure, come on in. I was just thinking the same thing.” He got up, placing the project in the drawer and shutting it.
“Great!” Ali breathed, closing the door and giving him a grateful look.
“Come on over,” he invited, pulling out another stool and placing it near his own. Ram enjoyed watching her walk over to the large counter where he sat. Today, Ali had her long, black hair in a set of braids, and looked a lot like her mother. With the cooler, fall weather, Ali had changed her shorts for jeans. She wore sneakers and bright red socks to match her long-sleeved red tee. The jeans weren’t tight on her, but his body responded anyway. Ali had that effect on him, which he didn’t want her to see. For her, their relationship was about friendship, not lust and sex.
Ali came to a halt a foot away from him. “Papa said you were figuring out some electrical issues with Mama’s under-the-cabinet lights she’s always wanted.”
No one except Diego knew he was making the saguaro horse for Ali, and he had promised to keep it a secret. Like the well-trained black-ops guy he was, Ram always made sure another project was on the counter. In this case, he had electric wire and ten small lights to show her. “Yeah, I need to make up a whole string of lights. Your mother’s kitchen is in an L-shape, so I’m working on measurements,” he said, gesturing toward what would probably look like a rat’s nest to anyone but another electrician.
She raised her brows, looking at all the wiring and the different colors of each wire strand. “Looks kind of complicated.”
“Not really. It probably looks chaotic to most people,” he said, picking up a red wire, “but I can see a simple blueprint in front of me.”
Snorting, Ali chuckled. “You’re right about it looking chaotic.”
He set the wires back down and nudged them into place. “How are you doing?” He looked up at her, seeing the darkness in her beautiful golden eyes. Someday, he wanted to kiss those eyelids of hers, smell and taste the sweetness of her skin beneath his lips. Would such a day ever come? Ram didn’t know, but since being here with Ali, it was all he dreamed about at night. His old dreams—nightmares, actually—had been replaced by dreams of the two of them together, happy and fulfilled.
Ali was changing him for the better, but he could also see his impact on her. Every day, they became a little more open to one another. A little closer, a bit more intimate and sharing.
“Cara is going through a down period,” she said. “She just left for her bedroom to go and lie down. I think she’s depressed again.”
“It happens,” Ram murmured. He reached out, patting her shoulder gently. “Hang in there. She is getting better even if it’s incrementally. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” How badly he wanted to do more than reassure her. His vivid, lusty dreams of loving Ali occurred almost nightly. It was a bitch waking up with a hard-on, sweaty as hell, his heart aching for her to be at his side. He squeezed her shoulder briefly and then removed his hand. Never did he want Ali to think his friendship with her meant he really wanted to have sex with her. He was well aware of how women took a man’s touch. He’d had plenty of women in his jaded past and understood exactly what kind of touch meant a promise of pleasure to come.
Ram rarely reached out to touch, because he was always tentative about what she might think, and how far to go. But he had noticed that lately, when he did, Ali’s eyes lightened and he felt her responding in the best of ways to him, the tension leaving her body. He was learning by doing, and then watching the result of his friendly intimacy with her. How Ram wished it was much more than that, but even this was pleasurable and made his heart swell with happiness.
Ali sighed and sat down on the other stool, pulling one leg across her other knee. “I know. Most days, I can handle it. But today, I felt like a wild animal pacing in a cage as I sat talking with her. She repeats the same stuff, Ram. Over and over again. I don’t even think she knows she’s doing it.”
“Broken record kind of thing,” he agreed. “I’ve seen other guys with PTSD repeat the same description of an op, or a specific event, over and over again.” He gave her an amused look. “I’ll bet we can look back on our own traumas and see that we were repeating things early on in our healing process, too. Don’t you?”
Sh
e nodded, and said, “No wonder some loved ones go bat shit crazy dealing with someone with PTSD,” she grumped unhappily. “I’ve seen so many divorces happen because of it.”
“It can certainly put an awful strain on a marriage,” Ram agreed.
“I guess I never saw outside of myself until just now with Cara going through it. Geez, talk about being boarded up! I’ve always prided myself on being sensitive to other people’s needs, but I guess I’m not, really. The PTSD can infiltrate me in such a way that I don’t see it happening. But I see it in Cara, so I know I must be doing it too.”
“It’s easier to see what’s wrong in another person than ourselves,” he said enigmatically, moving the wires and putting them in a certain alignment with one another.
“You’re so right,” Ali muttered. “I don’t see myself as well as I thought.”
“It’s a process. We’re all going through it to some extent,” he soothed. Ram saw how exhausted she was because she no longer tried to hide how she felt from him. There was something wonderful about trust, he was discovering. “Hey, I got an idea I’ve been mulling around the past week and I want to pass it under your wolf nose.”
Ali perked up. “Oh? What?”
“Well, actually two things. First, I know that my time here at the house is coming to an end. Wyatt called me the other day and said he needs me back for some planning missions about the situation brewing in Mexico. I’m the lead analyst for anything relating to that area.”
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