Let It Burn

by Ruth Cardello

  He tensed and snapped. “You think you understand me? You don’t.”

  “I’m not your enemy, Andrew.”

  He relaxed visibly and rubbed a hand over his face as if wiping away a memory. “What happened to that elephant?”

  The memory of its fate brought tears to her eyes. “We placed him with an animal sanctuary in South Africa, but he didn’t adapt. He became a danger to himself and those around him, and eventually they put him down. I don’t know what you’re doing in Aruba, or what you’re doing with me, but I won’t let you hurt my uncle.” She motioned toward the still open door. “You should go.”

  For several long moments, Andrew stood motionless. He was a man of action, not reflection or indecision. Stay or go. The choice was simple. Or was it? He kept circling back to what the woman on the beach had said that morning. If I’m not careful, I’ll get Helene killed.

  Right now, I’m as far from careful as I’ve ever been.

  Dammit.

  He straightened and stepped toward the door. The temptation to calm the chaos within him with alcohol was strong, but he wouldn’t go down that road again. He marveled for a moment at how, even though she knew next to nothing about him, she understood him with uncomfortable clarity. I’m a fucking angry elephant. He breathed out a self-deprecating laugh.

  She searched his face, and there was a realness to the moment that had him admitting, “I used to always know the right thing to do. I believed in my country, the Corps, and myself . . . often in that order. I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

  She pressed her lips together with cautious sympathy. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you.”

  “Because of me,” he said harshly.

  She nodded, seeming to understand how that was worse. He took another step through the door.

  “Good,” a male voice said as he came up the steps. “I don’t appear to be too late.”

  The man stopped in front of Andrew and held out his hand in greeting. He was a dignified man in his sixties, slight of build but with a presence of someone important. “Although I hear the reason for your visit is not a happy one, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barrington. I’m Clarence Stiles.” The man presented well. He looked Andrew in the eye and shook his hand firmly.

  “Andrew was just saying that he can’t stay,” Helene said in a rush.

  “Was he?” Clarence looked to Andrew in question.

  Leaving was probably for the best until he knew more about the situation. Andrew needed time to clear his head. “My intention was not to intrude, and Helene mentioned that you unexpectedly had to work late. I’ll come back another time.”

  Her uncle waved that idea away. “Nonsense. We’re all here, and I’m sure my cook has prepared something delicious for tonight. Close the door, Helene, before you let bugs in.”

  Andrew met Helene’s eyes again. “It’s better if I go.”

  Stiles looked from Andrew to Helene. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” When Helene didn’t immediately answer, he continued, “It appears that Dr. Gunder had a distinct lack of discretion. I heard a rumor this afternoon, Helene, that you have a possibly criminal, muscular giant of a new boyfriend. I’m assuming he was referring to you, Mr. Barrington.”

  Andrew cocked an eyebrow at the line of logic her uncle was drawing. He wasn’t, however, about confirm or deny the rumor.

  “We—I—” Helene stumbled to a stop, regrouped, then started again. “Andrew saw my date going badly and intervened. He said he was my boyfriend simply so Dr. Gunder would leave.”

  Stiles’s eyes flew back to meet Andrew’s sharply. “So you lied to and intimidated the doctor?”

  Andrew shrugged. “I didn’t like the way he was treating your niece.”

  Stiles clapped a hand on Andrew’s shoulder and a smile stretched his lips. “Good.” He nodded and guided Andrew back inside the door. “I respect a man who isn’t afraid to do the right thing. It’s often not easy.”

  “No, sir.”

  Stiles closed the door. “How about a Scotch? You earned a drink.”

  Although Andrew allowed himself to be brought back into the home, he said, “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t drink.” Helene searched his face with such earnest intensity he found himself adding, “Anymore.” He hated how pale she was. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she looked on the verge of telling her uncle that he was a gun-carrying wack job. “I really can’t stay.” He took a step back.

  Stiles looked at both of them again. “As you wish, but I was hoping I would have a chance to answer your questions. Helene told me your family still has concerns, and I’d like to put them to ease.” The hand he ran through his hair shook.

  Helene was at his side instantly. “Are you still feeling off? What was your blood sugar level when you last checked?”

  “Enough, Helene. I’m fine. Maybe a little stressed.” He looked over at Andrew. “We haven’t lost many patients here. The memory of your brother’s death weighs heavily on me even after all this time. I’d rather discuss it now instead of later unless there is a reason Mr. Barrington can’t stay for dinner.”

  Helene shot Andrew a pleading look. It seemed to say, Help him. Help us. What he struggled with was if that was best done by staying or leaving.

  “Andrew. Call me Andrew, and I could stay for a quick meal. I appreciate you taking the time to address questions about something that happened so long ago.”

  “Perfect,” Stiles said. “Then if you don’t mind I’ll take a moment to freshen up and meet both of you in the dining room. Helene, be a dear and make sure he has everything he needs.”

  “Of course, Uncle Clarence.” She smiled until the exact moment her uncle disappeared into a room off the main foyer then her expression went stone cold. She spun and jabbed a finger into Andrew’s chest. “My uncle isn’t well. If you hurt him or upset him, I will . . . I will . . . I’ll do something awful to you.”

  He’d never seen a more adorable sight than her snarling like a mama protecting her cub. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a brief kiss. “I’ll stay on my best behavior.”

  Desire battled with confusion in her eyes and she ripped her hand away from him. “I’ve seen your behavior, and I’m not sure your best is good enough.”

  A slow grin spread across his face, which gained him a glare from her. He couldn’t help it, despite everything else, being with her felt good. She was quirky and upbeat, which would have normally annoyed him, but he remembered how she’d looked when she’d closed her eyes and held her face up to the warmth of the sun. That’s how he felt near her. In a world that had become cold and empty to him, being near her felt so good he wanted to close his eyes and savor her.

  Even if she looked as if she wanted to slap him.

  “How are you a virgin?” He hadn’t meant to utter the question aloud, but he did softly, and she gasped when she heard him.

  Between gritted teeth, she asked, “How are you not?”

  He threw his head back and laughed at that. He’d been raised to tread lightly around women. The number-one rule in the Barrington home had always been to never ever upset their mother. Women were fragile. They could never be exposed to the harsher realities of life. Andrew had always avoided what some would consider good women. He didn’t want to spend his life walking on eggshells, worried that one honest word from him would shatter his partner. Helene wasn’t like that. When he pushed, she pushed back, and it excited him. He bent so he could whisper in her ear. “You are so damn hot.”

  She let out a shaky breath. “Right.”

  He raised his head and came to a sudden, shocking realization: Helene Franklin didn’t know she was drop-dead gorgeous. It made him want to drag her out of there, forget about everything else, and show her exactly how beautiful she was . . . again and again, all night long. And he was sure every ounce of his desire was written on his face.

  “Helene?” Stiles called from the dining room.

  Oh, y
es, dinner. He groaned. His only consolation was the look of yearning in her eyes that mirrored the need gnawing at him.

  He didn’t want to want her, but that horse had left the stable.

  He didn’t want to doubt her or her uncle, but that required disregarding what the woman on the beach had said. Who may have been sent to test me rather than actually deliver that message. What she said about Helene could have been a veiled warning of what would happen if I didn’t keep my mouth shut about what happened in Iraq. Although, if Colonel Ahearn were going to threaten me, I can’t imagine it would have come in the form of a high-drama blonde. More likely it would have been a near miss from a .50 caliber sniper rifle. Close enough to get the point across without adding to the colonel’s headcount. Or more accurately—deadcount.

  No, it doesn’t make sense for the colonel to send the blonde.

  Someone is fucking with me, but I don’t know who or why yet.

  “Answer him,” he commanded softly.

  She searched his face again. “First, promise me you’ll go easy on him.”

  He felt jaded and old before such an innocent request. If he actually were there to mess with her uncle, any promise made would have been an empty one. He didn’t have to ask her, though, if she still believed that a man’s word meant something—the answer was there in her eyes. Despite everything, she still trusted him to do the right thing because he fucking promised to. Someone would teach her that believing anyone inevitably led to disappointment, but he didn’t want to be that person. “I will.” And he would, unless her uncle gave some indication that he was a threat to her. After leaving the Corps, he didn’t think he would ever again have the stomach to take someone out, but he pitied the person who tried to hurt Helene. Emmitt had said every Marine, even retired ones, needed a mission. Keeping Helene safe had become his last stand, not because he knew her very well, but because something told him that saving her was the key to saving himself, and if she died on his watch he was headed somewhere dark, a place there was no turning back from.

  She touched his arm gently as if she could see the tortured corners of his mind. “Thank you.” Then she called out, “Coming, Uncle Clarence.”

  They walked toward the dining room side by side. Before entering, she looked up at him and said, “After tonight it would probably be best if we don’t see each other again.”

  He didn’t answer her because that was one promise he wasn’t willing to make.

  A few minutes later, Helene thanked the woman who placed a plate of food in front of her. I should ask my uncle for a moment alone. He needs to know Andrew has a gun. He needs to know there is a pain bubbling within his guest that might be about more than his brother’s death. He was too volatile for it to be about something that happened decades before. If she told her uncle, he might be able to get him help.

  She rested her chin on her hand as she listened to Andrew and her uncle make small talk. She’d expected him to eat like a starved animal or speak with his mouth full, but his dining etiquette was impeccable. Because he was brought up by a wealthy family. It was easy to forget that.

  Why would a man who had everything leave that lifestyle behind to become a Marine? And what is it that brings such a desolation to his eyes that I can feel his sadness?

  No. No. No. He’s not a wounded animal in need of rescuing. Don’t look at him that way. He’s a man. A gorgeous, armed, potentially dangerous man.

  Who makes me want to throw all sense to the wind and beg to be taken. Just any man won’t be good enough anymore. I want my first time to be with someone who makes my body quiver with need just by looking at me. I want to know where this level of lust takes a person, could take me.

  As Andrew reached for a piece of bread the muscles in his arm and shoulders flexed and bulged. Helene sighed. She reminded herself that he was a very troubled person, but her body betrayed her by continuing to lust over him.

  Her gaze followed Andrew’s strong hand as it closed around a glass of water. There was nothing sexy about him lifting it up to his mouth, parting those deliciously bold lips of his, and welcoming that cool water over his talented tongue, but it had her nearly drooling. The smile he shot her when he looked over and caught her watching him was just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

  Please don’t let him be a psycho killer.

  Andrew turned his attention back to her uncle. “So, you remember my parents.”

  “Yes,” her uncle said. “Most of the local people use the maternity ward at the public hospital, but your father wanted the best for your mother so they came here. It was devastating for everyone involved when one of the babies didn’t survive.”

  “Was there anything unusual about the delivery?” Andrew’s tone was as casual as if he were asking about the weather the day before.

  As he spoke to Andrew, her uncle moved his napkin from his lap to the table then back to his lap. The fidgeting was uncharacteristic and made Helene wonder whether her uncle was actually threatened by Andrew. Why would he be, though?

  Her uncle said, “I don’t remember there being anything, but it was a very long time ago. I tried to pull up records from that time, but it was before we updated our newest computer system and not all of the records, especially the older ones, were transferred over.”

  Andrew nodded. “I appreciate your patience with these questions. My brother has it in his head that something happened and was covered up.”

  Her uncle’s fork clattered against his plate before he set it down beside it. “I can assure you—”

  Helene leaned forward and began her own protest.

  With a raised hand, Andrew said, “Don’t worry, I didn’t come here expecting to uncover any wrongdoing. When I go back I plan to suggest he throw the journal out.”

  “What journal?” her uncle asked in a strangled tone that made Helene wonder if she shouldn’t call a doctor and ask Andrew to leave. Her uncle was pale and sweaty. He was obviously putting on a brave face because he wanted to help Andrew, but he needed to think about himself and his health.

  She had to get Andrew out of there.

  “Andrew, didn’t you say you had somewhere you needed to be?” Helene asked while sending him a silent, but clear message with her eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  Andrew’s instincts told him to stay, but those same instincts had failed him recently with deadly consequences. If he wasn’t aware that his decision, whether to leave or remain, might endanger Helene’s life, he wouldn’t second-guess himself. When he looked in her eyes he didn’t see just her. She was Lofton’s wife asking him how her husband had died. She was the mother of Melbourne asking if her son had suffered. Andrew wanted to do right by Helene, as he’d wanted to do by them, but what that looked like was just as complicated this time around.

  Did I fail my men and their families so completely that I’m being tested again? This time by a higher power? If so, I have bad news for God, I still don’t fucking know what You want me to do.

  I do know what Helene wants, though. She wants me to leave so that’s what I’ll do. He nodded, placed him napkin beside his plate, and stood. “You’re right. Thank you for a wonderful meal.”

  Stiles quickly rose to his feet. He was sweaty and shaky, but Helene had said he wasn’t feeling well. He said, “You must stay for dessert. My cook makes the most wonderful pastries.”

  “I would, but regrettably this is a commitment I can’t get out of.” A promise.

  Helene rushed around the table to stand beside him. “I’ll walk you out.” She looked her uncle over again and added, “Will you be okay?”

  There was a flash of impatience in her uncle’s expression then he smiled at Andrew. “My niece worries about me more than she should. I understand, though, that she does it because she loves me. I imagine your brother sent you here out of his love for your parents as well. Are you very close to your family?”

  Andrew shook his head. “Not since I joined the Marines.”

  “And why did y
ou? Join the Marines, I mean.”

  It was an unexpected question, and one that Andrew now found difficult to answer. “I saw people who were wrapped up in their comfortable homes and their gadgets, people who didn’t realize that none of what they had would be possible if someone wasn’t out there fighting the ones who wanted to take it from them. I thought I could make a difference.”

  “You wanted to be a hero,” Stiles said in a strange tone.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Andrew asked with a heavy layer of self-deprecation.

  “Not everyone,” Stiles said in an odd, sad tone.

  He’s not dangerous. And Helene isn’t afraid of him. It’s time for me to go. He looked down at Helene who looked concerned for both of them now. Only because Andrew preferred to see fire rather than worry in her eyes, he asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up, Helene?” The glare she sent him brought a smile back to his lips.

  She linked her arm with his and began to physically drag him with her. “Such a shame you can’t stay longer.”

  To Andrew’s surprise, Stiles walked with them to the door. He shook Andrew’s hand and asked, “How long will you be in Aruba?”

  Andrew glanced down at Helene before answering. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “If time allows, we would love to have you visit again,” Stiles said.

  “Thank you,” Andrew answered. “You will see more of me.” Although he was speaking to Stiles, his words were meant for Helene. She’d released his arm as they neared the door, and he was already aching for her touch.

  Her eyes widened. Those delicious lips of hers parted again and more than anything, he wanted Stiles to leave so he could kiss her one more time.

  “Helene, please give me a moment alone with Andrew,” Stiles said, and Andrew groaned inwardly. If Stiles was guilty of anything, it was being oblivious to when his presence wasn’t necessary.

  “Okay,” Helene said slowly. “I’ll meet you back in the dining room.”