An Unconditional Surrender (In Love and War Anthology)

by Candace Irvin

  Neither did Jack.

  They stiffened together as the shot reverberated through the barn, displacing the track’s rhythmic rumble for a brief, deafening moment, then Rurik joined his henchman, falling face first into the straw. Before Dani could blink, Jack shot across the barn and reached Zorah, the Makarov still pointed straight out from her heaving chest, hanging above the flames.

  The flames.

  Jack grabbed the pistol and the woman’s shawl. By the time he’d joined Dani at the fire, she’d stripped off her T-shirt. Together they thrashed the flames spreading across the concrete floor, devouring scattered ancient straw, mold and all. A pair of bare, swarthy arms joined them, shirt in hand. Then another pair and another. And another. She jerked her gaze up, half-expecting to discover C’emal alive. No such luck. But she did welcome the squad of half-dressed American soldiers turned fire-stompers beating out the remaining flames alongside an ethnic Muslim she didn’t recognize. Hamid and the cavalry had arrived.

  And the fire was out. It was over.

  Jack buttoned his pants as she stood. From the look that flashed between him and Hamid as he buckled his belt, Jack was going to have explain his state of undress eventually. She did not want to be around when he did. Jack captured her gaze and stripped off his T-shirt, tossing it to her along with a devilish wink before he turned to link up with Hamid. The men headed across the barn to check the warhead and seal the crate so they could get it and the bags of gunpowder under lock and key. Anywhere but here.

  Someone must have been assigned to kill the howitzer, because the roar of diesel engine died out. Adrenaline still simmering though her veins, Dani dropped Jack’s singed T-shirt and donned his fresh one as she headed across the barn. She found Zorah slumped on a pile of straw. “Are you okay?”

  “C’emal. After all our plans. He is…” Dani’s heart broke as the woman’s tears slipped free, finishing for her.

  “I know.” She did. It had taken her eleven years to find Jack, even though he’d been right in front of her face the entire time, or at least near her side. She could have lost him just as easily tonight. She wrapped her arms around Zorah, holding her tightly as the woman’s sobs broke free. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Dani?”

  She raised her head. But Jack was looking at Zorah, not her. Hamid stood beside him.

  Jack smiled. “One of the guys located our friend. He’s got a nasty knife sticking out of his chest, but the medic thinks he’ll make it. Anyone want to hitch a chopper into Sarajevo?”

  Zorah blinked up at Jack for a full two seconds. On the third, it sank in. She shot to her feet and threw herself into Jack’s arms. By the time Hamid led her out of the barn, everyone was teary, including Jack. Dani turned to follow Zorah to check on C’emal and thank him when Jack stopped her. His smile faded as he snagged her hand with one of his and cupped her cheek with the other.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You should probably hitch a ride, too. I just got off the phone with the embassy. They’ve got a guest.” Even before he squeezed her hand and nodded, she knew. “It’s your father.”

  Chapter 8

  Across an empty, darkened ballroom with his back to her, he should have looked like any other soldier in Army Greens. But he didn’t. She’d recognize that stiff, unyielding stance anywhere. Even here, in Bosnia. Jack was right. Ol’ Ramrod-and-Ruthless himself had flown halfway around the world just to track her down. Amazing. Hell, she couldn’t even get the man to drive a hundred miles to visit her at boarding school. Maybe she should shower first. At least change into the uniform the marine escort had offered. Oh, hell. She stepped into the room before she chickened out, wincing as her tennis shoes squeaked.

  That was all it took. He spun around. But he didn’t say a word. It was too dark to make out more than the flash of triple stars running across his shoulders—and those didn’t reveal any clue as to his mood. She locked her spine to attention and marched forward, stopping five feet away, just shy of a pair of hardwood chairs left beside the French doors.

  “Sir.”

  He returned her nod. “Danielle.”

  The seconds ticked out the silence—just like whenever they got together. It was usually like this too, with him in uniform and her feeling like a basic trainee washout. Before long they were into a minute, then two. Screw it. She was tired. Jack was on his way, if not already here. Not exactly eager for the scene she was now enduring she’d disobeyed the general’s implied orders and headed to the hospital with Zorah. While she was there, she’d even made a call to her command and spent an hour or so coordinating Farid’s takedown. Okay, two hours. All right, so the sergeants she’d gone in after were already tucked in their unit’s welcoming arms, safe and sound. But from the black leather bag blending into the dark beside the chairs, it looked as if her father hadn’t even unpacked, much less settled in.

  Another minute of silence and she’d truly had enough.

  She cleared her throat. “Well, general, it’s…been a long day.” Now there was an understatement. “I’d like to find a shower and a cot before it gets any longer.” Nothing. Fine, she’d had enough anyway. She executed an about face and stepped out—

  “Turn on the light.”

  She stopped, stared at the French doors now to her left. She leaned over and twisted the dimmer switch beside them, wincing as light from half a dozen chandeliers flooded the room. She took a deep breath and turned…and nearly gasped out loud.

  “You look like hell,” he informed her.

  Yeah? Well, he didn’t look so great either. His Greens might be crisper than they’d ever been, the silver that passed for hair cropped shorter than usual, but the jagged lines tracking across his forehead and down his cheeks were anything but. They were fresh, too. She’d swear the man had aged eleven years in the past eleven months. And he’d been crying. Though his steel-blue eyes were bone-dry now, they were bloodshot and puffy. Only two things made this man look like that. Tears and Scotch. She’d never known him to indulge in either one except on the anniversary of her mother’s death.

  No, her mother’s exceptionally brutal murder.

  During the chopper flight, she’d figured out what Jack had been trying not to tell her. He’d been right about that, too. It did help her understand. She just didn’t think it could change anything. Hell, look at them. The way her dad’s gaze was fused to the bruises on her face, they were both thinking it.

  So say it. She drew in her breath.

  “Mom wasn’t just murdered. She was raped, too.”

  His eyes weren’t dry anymore. They were glistening. He didn’t cry though. But that wasn’t new. He never did when he knew she was looking. His heavy sigh flooded the room instead.

  “Jack told you.”

  “No.” Not in so many words. “He tried really hard not to.” Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how hard. “But this was…a difficult case.” Lina. No, even as hurt and angry as she was with her father, he didn’t need to hear that. She swallowed the pain and regret and chose her words carefully, knowing if they were ever going to get past this, ever heal, it would have to start now. “Jack did push it though. He pushed me to talk to you. I think—I hope—it was because he cared too much to walk away. I’m also thinking…hoping…that someone else came here…is here…because he cares, too.”

  Relief swamped her, displacing the biting fear as her father nodded. “He does care.”

  Just say it. “We’re not just talking about Jack, are we?”

  “No, we’re not.” But then that damned awkward silence settled back in and they weren’t talking about anything anymore. As usual, neither of them seemed able to cross it. She swore her father was as relieved as she when the marine who’d shown her in entered the ballroom. The sergeant apologized for the interruption and greeted her father first, then held up a slip of paper in his gloved hand.

  “A message, ma’am. From Special Agent Gage.”

  Special Agent who? What? For the first time since
she’d entered the room, she was truly glad her father was standing in it. While she was busy gaping, he retrieved the sheet and dismissed the sergeant. “I take it you didn’t know.”

  She shifted her gape to him.

  “Guess not.”

  She blinked. “Jack left Delta?” Duh! How many special agents had she met in Special Forces? But…why? More importantly, “When?”

  “Couple months back.”

  “How many?”

  “Nine. But he put in his request earlier.”

  Even before she asked, she knew. But she still asked. She had to be sure. She swallowed hard. “How much earlier?”

  “The day after you two wrapped up the murder-for-hire assignment. I’d stopped by his office to ask him to lunch. To see if—” He broke off, ran a hand down the silver at the side of his head. “That’s not true. I wasn’t interested in lunch. I was interested in answers. I saw you two out by your car that morning. I wanted to know his intentions.” It was one thing to hear from Jack that her father had seen that steamy kiss. It was quite another to stand in front of the man and look into those steel-blue eyes while she heard it from him.

  She flushed. “And—ah—what were those intentions?”

  His gaze turned so desolate she almost took the question back. Especially when her father turned slightly to retrieve his hat from one of the chairs and stare at the gold leaves embroidered along the brim. “Jack asked for permission to marry you. I told him…” He traced his fingers around the edge, then dragged his stare to hers. “I told him he could have it—”

  “If he got me out of the Army.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. It was all she could give him.

  He took it. “If it helps, I’ve finally admitted that I’m the one who drove him out. I think he’s always known it would come down to you or me. And I’ve always known you would win.”

  “This isn’t a contest, dammit. And Jack’s no prize.” It wasn’t until it came out that she realized how bald it sounded. But it succeeded in lightening the moment and, frankly, they both needed it. Though slight, they shared their first smile in years. “You ever tell him I said that, I’ll shoot you.”

  “Coming from an expert shot, I’ll take that seriously.”

  “You’d better.”

  Her father’s smile faded as, once again, the silence settled in. The seconds ticked off until she couldn’t handle it anymore. She had to know. “What happened?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “You left. He’d gotten the invitation to work for the State Department the year before. I know, because we discussed it. He was flattered, but he wasn’t interested. We never said it, but we both knew why. I’ve always known. Even before he did. I’d been there myself with your mom. If I was the man you both deserved, I’d have pushed it. But I didn’t. I knew Jack would never make you choose between him and the Army. I guess I was holding out for someone who would.”

  There wasn’t much she could say so she waited. He turned his hat in his hand and stared into it for a good minute. He finally sighed and met her gaze. “That day in his office, Jack told me he was going to take the job. After the way I’d seen you two kiss, not to mention his stated intentions, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he wasn’t getting out of the Army. He was getting away from me…so he could finally go after you.”

  He dropped his stare again. This time, he kept it fused to his hat as he continued, “I’m sorry I’m not as brave as you. If I were, I’d have accepted your choice years ago. Logically, I know you’re not her. But the older you got, the more you started to look like her, and, well, the more confusing it got. And the more terrifying. At first, I didn’t tell you because you were too young. And then I couldn’t tell you because I’d never told you. But when I got word you were missing…possibly raped and murdered like her…and I didn’t even know you’d gone in, much less had a chance to say g-goodbye—” He broke off. The knot in his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He finally tore his gaze from his hat and met hers square on. “I’ll try harder, honey. I swear it. On your mother’s love.” Once again, the silence settled in. But this time something came with it.

  Tears.

  She watched, transfixed as they welled up in those stark blue eyes, until he’d hoarded so many, they finally spilled down. She swore she could feel every one of them searing into her heart. She stepped forward without thinking and reached out, capturing them as they continued to slide. Or she tried to. There were too many. So she stepped closer and slid her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He stood there for what seemed like eons, and then he snapped. When his arms came up to crush her to his chest, she started crying. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but eventually they both realized it’d been long enough. They pulled away at the same time.

  He reached out, his hand shaking as he wiped the tears off her cheeks before she could. He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out hoarse. “The Army lost a good man because of me. Don’t you lose him.”

  Somehow, she managed a smile. “Trust me. I have no intention of losing Jack. Not after I had to smoke another cigarette to keep him.”

  His brow shot up. But then that damned heavy, awkward silence saturated the air again. Would they ever get rid of it for good? Maybe. Because he cleared his throat again. He was trying. He even spoke, “You’ve got somewhere to be, don’t you?”

  Yes. But Jack would understand. “No, I’ll just—”

  “Link up with your old man tomorrow?” He shrugged off her surprise. “It’s late. Long flight. Man’s gotta sleep.”

  Her heart lurched. He really was trying. Dammit, then so could she. “A man’s gotta eat, too.”

  “Lunch?” He looked so uncertain, the tears threatened.

  She nodded slowly. Smiled. “I’d like that.” His answering smile was slower and a bit stiff as she turned to leave, or maybe just rusty. She figured she’d find out soon enough.

  “Just a minute, young lady.” Startled to hear the general’s voice and not her dad’s again, she whirled around. He’d donned his hat and snapped to attention. He wasn’t her dad anymore. He was General Ramrod-and-Ruthless Stanton in the flesh. Especially when he popped the sharpest, crispest salute she’d ever received. “I’ve been briefed. Outstanding work today, Captain.”

  Damn him. He just had to send her to Jack in tears, didn’t he? Again.

  He’d waited so long, he was starting to worry. Jack stared at the silver lighter clenched in his hand. Worried, hell. Six hours earlier, trapped in a barn with Dani wrapped in his arms while he waited for the right moment to flick a cigarette into fifteen feet of straw separating them from nine bags of gunpowder and an 8-inch tactical nuclear round, he’d been worried. Right now, he was pretty much terrified.

  So much so, his stomach roiled when he heard the knock. He tossed the lighter on the coffee table and strode across the guest suite’s carpet. His feet knew the way. They’d paced it out a hundred times already. He sucked up his panic and wrenched the door open. Dani was loitering on the other side, leaning against the wall, her loose hair still tangled, his T-shirt tucked into her jeans and his oversized belt. Soot still streaked across her right cheek, the purple bruise and split lip still marred her left. At least the marks on her neck had faded.

  His heart burned as she smiled. “Hi. I’m sorry, I know it’s late. But it’s kind of important. I’m looking for a man who goes by the name Special Agent Jack Gage?”

  “That would be me.”

  “Hmmm…so I heard.” She cocked her brow toward the room behind him. “Mind if come in?”

  He threw the door wide, making way as she stepped inside.

  “This isn’t a bad time is it, Agent?”

  He blinked.

  Her gaze swept his dark-blue robe. “You look like you were getting ready for a shower…or bed.”

  “Whichever comes first.” At the moment, he wasn’t sure he’d have company for either. Not when he spotted the note he’d
sent via the marine as she retrieved it from her back pocket. The paper was still folded. The creases still sharp. Had she even opened it? Did she even want to? Every time he’d thought he’d gained ground with Danielle Stanton, her father got in his way, whether or not the man intended to. And she’d just spent half an hour with him.

  His heart burned once more as she set the square of paper on the coffee table, right beside the lighter. And this burn wasn’t good. It seared in deeper as she pulled a wad of bills from her back pocket and carefully smoothed them. He stared at the stack as she held it out.

  “Sorry about the twenties. The bank machine was out of hundreds. It’s all there, though.”

  Christ. His heart blistered. “I don’t want your money.” He hadn’t wanted a goddamned thing from this woman for eleven years now—except one simple statement. He was so sure he’d have heard it from her up in that room of Rurik’s if they’d just had a little longer. But now? Staring at that stack of bills? He wasn’t sure of anything. Maybe it had been adrenaline after all.

  “Take the money, Jack.”

  “Dammit, Dani, I—”

  “What? Three hundred’s enough for a lowly army captain, but not some lofty special agent?” She tsked her tongue as he blinked, gaped. “My, my, just what agency are you with?”

  “State Department.”

  “Diplomatic Security?”

  He nodded.

  “Mobile Security Detachment?”

  He nodded again.

  She frowned. Her low whistle filled the room, invading the bedroom beyond. “I hear they travel quite a bit. Never home. Understand the work’s pretty dicey on occasion, too.”

  “It can be.”

  “I guess you’re right then. Three hundred won’t cut it.” She sucked in her breath and squared her shoulders. He sucked in his own as that gorgeous gaze darkened with determination. “Unfortunately for me, I’ve decided that—special agent or not—I like what I see. So, how much is it going to take?”

  Just like that, the burning in his heart eased.