“For the last seven years, I’ve been putting myself between innocent people and the assholes trying to hurt them, Sam. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
With her long-dormant sensuality stretching toward him yes, she did. She cleared her throat. “I’m not afraid of you.” Her voice came out soft and breathy. She swallowed and tried for a stronger tone. “But I have to be wary of everyone. And I can’t depend on you or anyone else to protect me. Once your business takes off, you’ll move on. Joy and I will still be here, on our own.”
His jaw tensed. “Then I’ll teach you how to defend yourself.” His fingertips ran down her arm to her elbow before he released her.
She leaned back against the wall, her legs feeling weak from the release of tension. She fought the urge to rub the spot where his hand had rested. “You can do that?”
“Hand-to-hand. Weapons. Yeah, I can teach you.”
The idea of being able to fight back… She felt stronger just thinking about it. “Truly?”
“Yeah.” He tipped his head. “Truly.”
“When can we start?”
He smiled and his teeth flashed white in the dim light of the hall. And her heartbeat soared.
“I’ll be a little busy today taking care of the hole I dug by shooting my mouth off. And tomorrow I have a job to do. But I’m free on Tuesday.”
His admission that he’d done the wrong thing went a long way to soothing her resentment, but not her anxiety. As much as she had enjoyed hearing Will laid flat verbally, she was too aware of the possible repercussions to forget or forgive. But maybe learning some self-defense would help alleviate her PTSD symptoms. “It’s a date.”
Realizing what she’d said, she bit her lip and hazarded a glance at him.
Tim shifted closer to her, his movements slow and measured. “I won’t read more into that than you meant.” He paused. “Not this time.”
Her mouth grew dry as desert sand beneath the intentness of his regard. Her gaze dropped to his lips, then to the pulse that beat in his strong, tanned throat.
“You’re a beautiful woman.” His deep voice grew husky. “I’d have to be made of wood not to notice. But I’m not your ex. And I don’t force myself on women.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “I’ll go organize my stuff and get started on the system.” He brushed past her, so close she felt the warmth of his body. His steps quiet, he walked on down the hall to the living room.
Sam took several deep breaths to steady herself. He’d fired up her rusty sexuality with just the brush of his fingertips. And he’d even gotten close enough to kiss her and she hadn’t felt one moment of fear. She allowed herself to bask in the experience.
But his parting words, I’m not your ex. And I don’t force myself on women, played through her head. Her stomach plunged and a writhing humiliation killed those wonderful sensations. Was he making a statement about himself? Or had he guessed that Will had forced her?
CHAPTER 24
Marsha breathed in the scent of grilling meat and nausea rolled over her in a rush. It would pass. They said that smell was the strongest sense tied to memory. If that was true, maybe if she just immersed herself in it, this would stop.
She focused on tearing the lettuce into bite-sized pieces in two salad bowls, then added sliced cucumbers, shredded carrots and wedges of tomato. She sprinkled the croutons James liked on his.
Tucking the baby monitor under her arm, she carried the bowls to the door that led out into the back yard. The front door and sliding glass door in the living room had been replaced after the break-in. While they’d all been in the hospital, a team of SEALS had pitched in and done the work. The wonderful perks of being a member of a close-knit community.
The house looked just as it had before the incident.
Except for the memories.
She had to put this behind her. She was fine. Alex was fine. James was fine. This was just a place.
It had been a happy place for the last five years.
Could she lay all that had happened aside and get those feelings back? She studied the late afternoon sunlight as it reflected off the pool. James swam in it every day. How could he bear it? How could he walk the same steps he’d walked that day? He hadn’t walked, he’d staggered. She didn’t know how he’d survived the beatings.
For the first time she acknowledged her husband’s incredible courage He just kept putting one foot in front of the other and would not give up. She needed to follow his lead and quit being such a wuss.
She unlatched the door, slid it open, and stepped out onto the patio. She avoided the pool and carried the salads to the glass-topped table under a bright red umbrella. James had already set the table.
“I’ve opened a bottle of the red wine you like,” he said, motioning toward the sideboard next to the grill.
“Thank you.” Maybe if she drank enough… No, she couldn’t do that. Alex might need her.
“Would you like a glass?” She moved to the sideboard.
“Sure.”
He preferred beer and was just trying to be…pleasant. James was never pleasant for conformity’s sake. He usually just said what he thought, but rarely how he felt. A side-effect of being in charge of a platoon of SEALs. In the last two weeks he’d shared more of his feelings with her than he had in the previous ten years. He was trying. She could see that. It was time to make up her mind whether she was going to meet him halfway.
She poured two glasses of the wine, walked over to where he stood, and set his glass next to him on the wooden platform attached to the grill.
“Thanks.”
Marsha buried her nose in her glass and took a large swallow. Irish courage? Or did that have to be Irish whiskey?
This was her husband! Why did she suddenly feel nervous? He’d never touched her with anything but gentleness. Even in his passion he took care. And, as he’d said, he’d never rush her into anything. But he’d planned this evening to ease her back into them being together. Earlier he’d even suggested a date night once a week so they could have time for just the two of them.
James flipped the steaks with long-handled tongs, then closed the lid on the grill.
“One of my men is in trouble,” he said.
Marsha stared at him. In ten years, he had never talked to her about any of the men, except to pass on scuttlebutt about marriages, engagements, breakups, and babies. “What kind of trouble?”
He took a sip of his wine and looked down into his glass. “Before we transferred home he hooked up with the FBI to do some undercover work for them in Iraq, and followed through when he got home. There were other personnel who were approached who did the same.” He shifted his weight and raised the lid of the grill to check the meat. “Just a few more minutes.” He took another sip of his wine.
She’d never seen him vacillate about anything before. She studied his expression.
“You can’t say anything to anyone about this,” he said, his expression grave.
He was actually confiding in her. “I understand.”
“Because it wasn’t a military-sanctioned mission, I’ve not been ordered to keep it top secret, but since it may affect you down the line, I feel I need to give you a heads up.”
She nodded. “How would it affect us?”
He looked toward the pool. “I made a mistake with Brett Weaver, Marsha. He was fighting his way back to his team and I just kept piling shit in his way. I tried to run him out of the teams. I looked at his medical report and decided he was no longer fit to be a SEAL.”
“He saved our lives,” she said.
“Yeah. When shit hit the fan, he did what he was trained to do.” He cleared his throat and set aside his glass. He opened the grill and took the steaks off to put them on individual plates with the baked potatoes he’d already fixed. “You get the wine, I’ll get these.”
With both glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other, she joined him at the table. Her thoughts raced as she tried to figure out who he was talking about
from the scuttlebutt she’d heard. They sat and he reached for the wine to top off their glasses.
He’d never tell her who the team member was unless she guessed. And now he’d started, her interest was piqued. “It’s J.G. Carney, isn’t it?”
His gaze leaped to her face. “I can’t tell you who.”
She nodded, but she could tell from his reaction her guess was correct. She placed a napkin in her lap and picked up her knife and fork.
“Things went south during a drop he was doing for the FBI, and the men he was dealing with tried to kill him. He’s been AWOL ever since, and he’s just recently surfaced.”
More interested in what he was saying than her food, she laid aside her knife and reached for her glass again. “Was he injured?”
“Yeah. He was pretty banged up, but he’s recovered now.” He chewed a bite of steak and swallowed. “He’s reached out to me for help, Marsha.”
Concern revved through her. “What kind of help?”
“He’s been listed as AWOL for seven months. But he’s been on the run from some very bad guys. I believe that NCIS is using him as bait to draw a rouge FBI agent out, and the FBI is using him as bait for some very dangerous people.”
Her mouth went so dry she couldn’t swallow and had to take another healthy swig of wine to wash down the bite of salad. “Is it al Qaeda?”
“No. It’s a Mexican drug cartel.”
Her face felt numb. Wasn’t that just as bad? “What does he expect you to do?”
“To stay on NCIS’s ass and try to get them involved in the investigation he’s running on the man responsible for the attack on him. I had a meeting with the agents this morning. All they’re interested in is arresting him for AWOL—if they can find him. But what they were really saying was that they were waiting for shit to hit the fan so they could ride in on his coattails and catch the man who double-crossed him.”
“And what about the FBI?”
“I got the feeling they’re running their own investigation.”
“So, that leaves Flash on his own. What’s to keep him from being killed before they can run to the rescue?”
“Exactly.” He set aside his knife and fork and leaned his elbows on the table. “I want to try and bring him home, Marsha.”
“How do you propose to do it?” An uneasiness took up residence along the back of her neck, as though someone had blown against the fine hairs there.
“When he contacts me again, I’m going to try to talk him into coming in. I’ll speak to the commander about working something out about the AWOL charge. Since he was working for the FBI when all this went down, we can cut him orders to reflect that and rescind the charges.”
“Can you do that?”
“I hope so. A ten-month unsanctioned absence could end his career.”
“How can they blame him for something he had no control over? He’s been injured, and his life has been in danger.”
James ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, and, propping his elbow on the table, rested his head in his hand for a moment. “The reasons don’t matter. The only thing that will matter to HQ is that he’s been gone for ten months.”
The injustice of that sparked her outrage. “That isn’t reasonable.”
“Everything is cut and dried in the military, Marsha. You’re either there to do a job or you’re not. The reasons behind your absence don’t matter.”
She shook her head. “Even though he’s done his job for years and put his life on the line?”
“Even though.”
“But it isn’t fair. They expect you to be loyal to them, but where is their loyalty to you?”
He laid his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “No it isn’t fair, and it has nothing to do with loyalty, sweetheart, just duty. He’s been derelict in his duty.”
“You have to do something.”
“I’m going to try.” He picked up his fork. “But if I take a firm stand, things could get rocky for me, for us.” His brown eyes looked dark, his jaw set in lines of determination she’d seen numerous times before. “That’s why I’m telling you all this.”
Would it be so bad for him not to be a SEAL anymore? Or for him not to have to play the politics that went with command and promotion?
To reach for his hand seemed natural for the first time in months. When they’d first met she’d been drawn to his strong, masculine looks, his imposing bearing. His eyes, so deep a brown, looked like dark, rich chocolate. His already-graying hair gave him a distinguished appearance. His hands were wide across his palm, his fingers, long and nimble, were strong and manly.
“I made a mistake with Brett Weaver. I don’t want to do the same with this man. From his reports, the evidence he’s sent me, I really do believe he was set up and only his training saved him from being murdered.”
“Could the FBI intercede on his behalf?”
“They could weigh in, but it probably wouldn’t make much difference. It falls under military jurisdiction since he’s signed a contract with the Navy.”
“If he can prove the FBI hired him to do this, with his commanding officer’s backing, would it smooth the way?”
“I never spoke with the FBI, but they did talk with Captain Morrow, the base commander.”
“But he truly believed it had gone through channels?” she asked.
“Yes, he did. Flash received an email saying his orders had been changed.”
“But they hadn’t.”
He shook his head. “I never put in the paperwork because I knew nothing about it.”
It sounded like Flash was SOL no matter what he did. The thought sent blood rushing to her face. How long had it been since she was seriously upset on another person’s behalf? She’d been so caught up in her own cares that it had left little room for anyone else. What kind of person had she become? “How do you think he’s been living?”
“I don’t know, but he has serious skills, and he adapts. If he’d used his name anywhere the FBI would have been able to find him instantly. That means he’s either going by an alias or he’s flying under the radar.”
“Poor fellow. Everything he’s depended on, everyone he’s depended on is out of reach.” What would she have done had she not had a support network after Alex’s birth? After the attack? The other wives had rallied around her, just as the men had reached out in support of James. The SEALs and their families were an extended family.
“Do whatever you have to do to get him home safe. Then we’ll deal with the rest after.”
“I’ll clean up. You go ahead and finish your wine,” James said as they rose to stack the dishes.
“I need to check on Alex.”
“I’ll do it. He seems to be sleeping well. And you have the monitor.” They needed to concentrate on them for a while. Alex was doing fine for the present. Much better than seven months ago. But he didn’t have to be told their relationship had been getting worse every day.
He made short work of scraping the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, then scrubbed the grill utensils and left them in the drainer to dry.
He crept down the hall and into his son’s room. Standing over the crib, he watched the rise and fall of Alex’s chest. After the first six months, he’d begun to sleep more soundly at night and usually woke at five when James was up to give him a fresh diaper and a bottle.
He was getting more and more personality every day, and they were getting to know him better. He smiled often. Cried less. And was content to lie in his crib and play with his toes before and after sleep.
But there were more issues than just his heart. He wasn’t reaching the milestones a normal baby did. He was at least three months behind with his physical development. It had taken him longer to hold up his head and at ten months he was just learning to sit up.
Marsha was doing exercises doctor had suggested with Alex every day to help strengthen his muscles and encourage his development. She had devoted her every waking moment to him since his birth, but that had to
end if they were going to make it as a couple.
They had to have time for them.
He’d thought she’d withdrawn from him because of his failure to protect her. After her admission earlier this morning he understood it wasn’t that simple. But she still loved him didn’t she? Otherwise she wouldn’t still be here. Armed with that knowledge, he was determined to find a way to woo her back to their life and their physical relationship.
James left the baby’s room. Though he’d done it earlier, he checked the front door to make certain it was locked, and then the door that led into the garage. She had her issues and he had his. He often rose at night to check the windows and doors to make sure the house was secure. They’d put in an alarm system as well, but he couldn’t arm it until they settled in for the night.
He gathered his CD player and a few disks from his office and took them outside. He set the player on the sideboard, plugged it in, popped in the disk, and pushed play. The smoky voice of Nina Simone floated around the pool. The scent of chlorine blended with the sweet smell of the clematis blooming on a trellis against the privacy fence that surrounded the pool.
Marsha sat at the foot of one of the lounges, cradling her wine glass between her hands. The sun had gone down and the lights had kicked on around the pool.
“He’s sleeping well and his breathing is regular,” he announced as he stretched out on one of the bright red lounges.
“I put your wine on the table there.” She pointed to the small table between their lounges.
She seemed so far away. So withdrawn from him. How could he chip away the distance she’d placed between them?
“How can you bear to swim in the pool?” she asked.
He had to think for a minute before he realized what she meant. “It wasn’t the pool that tried to kill us, Marsha. It was Tabarek Moussa.”
She remained silent for a moment. “Is that how you get through deployments in those Godforsaken places? Focus on the people instead of the location?”
Breaking Away (Military Romantic Suspense) (Book 3 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 21