“I know. It’s actually weirder for me this time around, now that I know who this guy is. Last time we had a crowd of people and I wasn’t sticking around. Now I feel like I’m trespassing.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t know why the actor was so willing to help them out, but he needed to have Tara send the guy a gift when this was over. “At least he uses timers, so it won’t look weird to any neighbors if the lights are on in the evening.”
“True.” She set her palms flat on the granite counter. “Now what?”
“Tara’s going to contact Valerie first thing tomorrow, and they’ll both start digging into anything to do with Lambert that can help us.”
“Valerie works for you now?”
“Yeah. She’s our resident computer guru-slash-hacker. I don’t know how we ever worked without her.”
Caitlyn rested her elbows on the counter and rubbed her hands down her face. “I hate this. I feel helpless and useless, and every other ‘less’ you can think of.”
He itched to comfort her, but he kept his hands to himself. If he touched her again, he wouldn’t want to stop. “Tomorrow, I’ll pick up a computer or tablet and some burner phones so you can start feeling useful. I have the Wi-Fi password, but there’s no computer here.”
Rolling her head to look at him, she asked, “Why just you?”
“Because the police are looking for a couple. And you’re far too recognizable.”
“And you’re not?”
“I’m a white guy with brown hair. In the tourist areas, I’ll blend right in.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Only if you cover up all those muscles.”
He warmed a little. But she was right. If his bulk looked like fat he’d be less noticeable and less intimidating. “Point taken.”
“A lot of stores on the island are closed on Sundays. Your best bet will be to find something near the cruise ships.”
“Good to know. I hadn’t even thought of that. We’re spoiled back home, and not necessarily in a good way.”
“Yeah. It took me a while to get used to, but now it’s one of the things I love about Barbados. I can get anything I need on the island or online, but the lifestyle is simpler. Less cluttered with stuff, not so crowded.”
Kurt sipped his water. “I like DC, and I’m used to the conveniences, but it’s hectic. I have to escape every few weeks.”
Caitlyn twirled her water glass on the counter. “I don’t know if I can sleep, but I’m about ready to slide right off this stool.”
He chuckled. “Ditto.” Rising, he double-checked that the alarm system was on and they went upstairs.
The house had three enormous bedrooms, all on the second floor. The long front half of the house was taken up by the master bedroom and bathroom, while the back of the house was split into two, with a guest bath and the stairs between them.
There were enough beds and pullout couches to sleep an entire squadron.
“Why don’t you take the this one?” Caitlyn asked, standing in the doorway to a yellow room with two king beds. “More space for you to spread out.”
“Actually, the queen beds in the other room are lower to the ground. They’ll be easier for me to get in and out of.” Once he took off his legs.
“Oh. Right. No problem.”
They said goodnight and he went to the green bedroom while she headed for the bathroom. He dug the chargers and batteries for his legs out of his pocket and placed them on the dresser. He didn’t go anywhere without them, because running out of juice for his legs could ruin a man’s day. The batteries could last up to five days, but nightly charging was recommended. He chose not to test it.
Luke thought it was cool that he could plug in his legs to recharge, like a robot or something. He loved his nephew’s perspective on the world.
The latch on the bathroom door unlocked with a click and the door to Caitlyn’s room opened and closed again. He set the Sig he’d stolen on the nightstand and entered the bathroom, locking the door to her side. He found a stash of new toothbrushes and various toiletries—Marlowe was ready for surprise guests—and happily brushed his teeth and washed his face.
Finally, he sat on the toilet to remove his legs. At least he had privacy, though he’d still prefer to be sharing a bed with Caitlyn.
Hung up, much? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was hardly the time to make a move.
He broke the vacuum seal on his sockets before he slid them off his stumps and set the legs aside. Then, he massaged each limb the way Caitlyn was probably rubbing her feet after running around in heels all night. Sweet relief.
With a damp washcloth, he did a full-body wipe down, and then moved his prostheses into the bedroom so they wouldn’t startle Caitlyn if she used the bathroom later.
At midnight, he was still staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind and waves, restless sounds that matched his mood. Despite the cool air whispering through the vents, a light layer of sweat covered his skin, and he’d pushed all the sheets to the bottom of the bed.
Every few minutes, a faint rustle came from Caitlyn’s room and the bedsprings squeaked. Was she a turbulent sleeper or was she struggling too?
Two hours later, a crash woke Kurt from a hazy half-sleep. He sat bolt upright, his pulse slamming, and reached for his weapon. Had he been dreaming?
On the other side of the wall, the wooden floor creaked.
Kurt slid from the bed and cut through the bathroom—far quicker than going around and down the hall. Flinging open the door to her room, he raised his weapon and did a visual sweep.
The outside security lights cast enough of a glow through the shutters that he could see Caitlyn standing next to the bed in a long T-shirt, gaping at him. No one else was in sight.
“Sorry,” he said, lowering the weapon. “I…heard a noise.” …am an idiot.
“It’s okay.” She grimaced. “I bumped the alarm clock and it fell off the nightstand.” Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she said, “Did I wake you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. As exhausted as I am, I’m having trouble sleeping.”
“Me too.” She shifted to sit against the headboard and hugged her knees to her chest, wrapping the shirt over her legs. “I can’t stop thinking about Rose, wondering where she is, if she’s okay.” Her chin dropped to her knees. “If only I’d acted sooner. I should have hired your guys to get her back and damn the consequences.”
She couldn’t have known Rose would be gone, but he’d be suffering the same guilt in her shoes. No point in arguing.
He wore only boxers, stumps bared, but she hadn’t asked him to leave, so he slipped onto the sofa and set the gun to his side.
Caitlyn looked her fill, her gaze lingering on the tattoo on his chest, but said nothing.
“Tell me something about Rose,” he said.
Her head lifted. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I know she’s a graphic artist, you have different dads, she has a girlfriend… I don’t know. Tell me a story. Or whatever you can think of.” She wasn’t going to stop thinking about Rose, but he could help her quit dwelling on the unknown.
Caitlyn stared at her toes in thought for several minutes. “When I was fourteen and Rose was eleven, my mom’s brother Gary came to visit from San Francisco right before school started.” Her voice was low and intimate and made Kurt wish he was closer. “He had rented a shiny red convertible that he worried about parking in our neighborhood, the nicest car we’d ever been in. My mom had to work, but Gary took me and Rose and Mike out to lunch and bought us toys and candy and books. He fed us ice cream and French fries from room service and let us watch HBO in his posh hotel room.
“It had been so long since a man gave us any attention, showed us any love. Even when Rose and Mike’s dad was around, he treated us more like goldfish than children, making sure our basic needs were met, but otherwise ignoring us. I thought Gary was amazing. He could eat whatever he wanted, drive wherever he wanted. He could afford to fly fr
om California to see us. I’d never even been out of Colorado Springs.
“On the third day, he bought us swimsuits and took us to play in the hotel pool. I had taken swim lessons as a kid, but Rose and Mike had never been in water deeper than a bathtub, so they stayed in the shallow end splashing around.”
Caitlyn’s jaw hardened and she looked toward the window as if she could see through the closed shutters. “I loved being underwater. Until I started flying, that insulated, muffled, weightless world became my favorite escape.”
He knew exactly what she meant. Swimming had kept him sane over the years.
Blowing out a harsh breath, she said, “I was supposed to be helping watch my sister and brother, but I was doing handstands and swimming along the bottom of the pool like a shark, oblivious, having the time of my life. When I came up for air, Rose was nowhere in sight. She and Mike had been cannonballing into the pool but she jumped in too close to the deep end and the water was over her head. She panicked and flailed, even though she probably could have walked to shallower water.”
“I remember that awful feeling from combat driver training,” Kurt said. “It’s bad enough when you’re prepared for it. I can’t imagine going through it as a kid. What happened?”
“Gary was reading a book on a lounge chair, but when Mike started screaming he jumped in and dragged Rose to the shallow end. Thank God she wasn’t under long enough to pass out or anything, just to swallow some water and freak out, but it changed everything.” She fell silent, seemingly lost in her thoughts.
“How so?”
“Well, the fire department and police responded, they called Child Protective Services, who took us away for a week, placing each of us in different foster homes. The investigators finally gave us back, but Rose and Mike were traumatized, and I knew I could have prevented all of it if I’d just paid attention like Gary asked me to.”
Kurt shook his head, but she pressed on.
“I found out years later that he was a registered sex offender and CPS had gotten involved because my mom knew about it and left us with him anyway. But it sounds worse than it was. He’d been caught having sex with his seventeen-year-old girlfriend when he was eighteen. They were both seniors in high school, but her father flipped out and pressed for statutory rape.”
“That’s harsh. Seems like a stupid way to potentially ruin someone’s life.”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip and stared at her toes. “I think we were all ruined in our own ways. Rose never went in the water again. She wouldn’t even come to my swim meets. Hell, she lives on an island now, but still won’t get within twenty yards of the ocean.” She grimaced. “My reaction was just as bad.” She briefly closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “I backed away completely. Up until that point, Rose and I had been pretty close, but the whole experience scared me half to death. I felt guilty for letting her almost drown and for bringing CPS down on our family’s head. She was a constant reminder of my failure. And initially, I think she blamed me too.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Kurt said. “You were just a kid.”
Caitlyn toyed with the edge of her shirt and shrugged off his words. “I also realized how much I cared about her, how much it would hurt if something happened to her—the same way it hurt when our dads left—and I… I tried to stop caring.” A tear slipped down Caitlyn’s cheek, the dim light sparkling in its wake. “I started high school two weeks later, and I used every excuse I could find not to spend time with her. Homework, new friends, sports, clubs. Why would a freshman want to hang out with a sixth-grader anyway, right? She pulled back too, stopped seeking me out to talk or play. By the time I left for basic, we hardly knew each other.”
“I’m sorry,” Kurt said. Rose wasn’t the only one she’d kept arm’s length. Even as much as Caitlyn had let down her guard with him and Terrell, she’d held part of herself back.
“When she came to Barbados,” Caitlyn said, “things were better. We both made more of an effort, but she was as skittish as I was. Probably because she could sense I wasn’t willing to go all in.” Caitlyn pressed her palms to her eyes. “What if I’ve lost her, Kurt? How will I ever forgive myself?”
There were no words, so he held out his hand.
CHAPTER 9
CAITLYN WOKE SLOWLY, the golden light of sunrise peeking through the slats of the shutters, and immediately wished she could fall back into ignorant oblivion. Good God. She had cried last night. And worse yet, in front of Kurt.
What the hell was wrong with her? She rarely shed tears, and sure as hell not in public. He seemed to bring out all of her vulnerabilities.
Like now, for example. Not only had she dragged the bedspread over to the couch and let him comfort her, she had fallen asleep in his arms. Then, at some point during the night, he had moved onto his back and now she lay sprawled across his muscled torso, using his broad chest as a pillow. He was warm and solid and delicious. Her legs were twined with his thighs and his erection pressed against her hip, thick and hard.
How easy it would be to move over a few inches, push aside her panties, and make them both happy. Her stomach dipped. If their earlier kisses were any indication, he wouldn’t protest. But it wouldn’t be fair to lead him on. He wanted a wife and a family, and she could offer neither.
The tears burned again. Goddammit.
Trying to avoid jostling him, she let her right leg slide down until her foot hit the floor. Then she pushed against the back of the couch to lift herself up, the bedspread pooling at her feet.
His dark eyes opened and he stared up at her, blinking once or twice before he jolted upright and crossed his wrists over his lap. “Morning,” he said, his voice rusty.
“Sorry.” She tugged on the hem of her T-shirt and folded her arms, though it was probably too late to hide the see-through nature of the thin cotton. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He glanced at his watch, his cheeks turning pink. “No problem. I’m usually up by now.”
Her gaze strayed to his residual limbs—the correct term for his stumps, according to the research she’d done after he told her about his injuries. Last night, it had been too dark to see them clearly, and she had expected much worse. Basically, his thighs looked…normal, muscular, in fact, until tapering just above where his knees would be. The skin at the end was hairless and stretched, and each leg had been rounded off into a pillowy shape with a shiny scar along the bottom.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry.” She was stuck in apology mode now. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. I’d rather you stare than be afraid to look.”
She swallowed. “Does it hurt to walk on them?”
“Not anymore.”
He didn’t want or need pity, but she still hated that he’d gone through so much pain and struggle. “How long were you in the hospital?”
“In-patient and out-patient combined, I lived at Walter Reed for almost two years.”
Jesus. “That long?” She couldn’t even imagine.
“I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through it if Sara hadn’t quit her job and moved in with me.”
Because their parents had died, and he’d had no one else to advocate for him. Sara was a much better sister than Caitlyn had ever been. “That’s where she met your physical therapist?”
“Yeah, Soham. He makes her happy, so I let him live.” Kurt gave her a cheeky smile.
Her chest constricted. “I’m glad you lived.” As if she would have wished otherwise. The words sounded stupid as soon as they came out of her mouth.
“Me too.” His smile turned into a full-blown sexy grin. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting here half naked after spending the night with you.”
Half naked and sexy as hell. Up close she could clearly see that the tattoo on his left pec was a curling ribbon emblazoned with “That Others May Live.” The second half of the pararescue motto was a summary of Kurt in four words, and it only made h
im more desirable.
Her cheeks burned. Damned fair skin. “All these comfortable beds and we ended up on the couch. I hope it wasn’t too bad for you,” she said, keeping her voice light.
He laughed, deep and playful. “I will happily sleep under you anywhere, anytime, Braveheart,” he said, invoking the stupid play on her last name Terrell had been so proud of.
“Oh, God.” She rolled her eyes and bent to grab the bedspread and wrap it around her shoulders. With luck, the move hid the jolt of lust that shot straight to her core at his suggestion. “Men.” Tamping down her unwanted attraction, she straightened. “Do you need to use the toilet?”
“Go for it. I can wait. If I get desperate there are two other restrooms in the house.”
Snatching up a change of clothes, she threw the quilt on the bed and shut herself into the bathroom without a backward glance.
Fifteen minutes later, feeling somewhat refreshed, she scrounged through Brandon’s cupboards and started a pot of oatmeal and, more importantly, a pot of coffee.
Kurt joined her soon after, back to full height. Had he waited for her to leave the room this morning so he wouldn’t have to walk on his residual limbs in front of her? He’d done it last night, but it had been dark then, and he’d thought she was in danger.
As much as she rejected the idea of being a damsel in distress who needed a man, the memory of him rushing into her room ready to fight for her sent a ripple of pleasure through her chest.
“I’ll pick up some groceries later if I can find anything open,” he said, breaking into her reverie.
“Good idea. I hate raiding this guy’s cupboards, and there’s not much here anyway.”
While the oats simmered, Kurt switched on the enormous flat-screen TV that hung on the wall across from the sectional sofa. A local morning news show talked about another tropical storm developing to the southeast. This year, the Atlantic had already seen more than its fair share of hurricanes, with multiple storms devastating Puerto Rico and the Leeward Islands, along with Mexico, Texas, and Florida.
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