by Lora Leigh
It was a statement. It was an acknowledgment that she had needed help then. The humiliation drained out of her, but weariness seemed to set in.
“I made it out.” She didn’t want to talk about it. “And I don’t want to discuss that, Mac. But look at you. You filled out.”
He grinned. He was a few years older than she was, maybe seven years, she thought. That would make him thirty-two maybe. The last time she’d seen him she’d been sixteen and he’d been a wise, older twenty-two-year-old who had just joined the Army.
So many years. And they’d both changed.
“I’m not the only one.” He smiled down at her with wry amusement. “You’re looking beautiful. But didn’t I always tell you you would?”
“Yeah, after you made me cry by calling me the ugly duckling,” she pointed out without bitterness. It was impossible to stay angry with Mac for long, even then. He’d had a shy, touching smile and a way of telling you the way it was, no matter what you wanted to believe.
“I was right.” He nodded briskly. “You turned into a beautiful young woman, Risa.”
She shrugged, uncomfortable with that thought. She still saw the plain features; if there was any beauty there, it hid from her in her mirror.
“So what do you do in Iraq?” she asked, desperate to know more about one of the few friends she had had as a child.
“I work in Special Ops,” he stated. “We coordinate many of the missions that go out among the SEALs and Special Forces in the Middle East. Most of them make it through our command center eventually.”
“You should have met Micah somewhere then,” she told him. “He was a SEAL before returning to the states.”
He glanced at Micah, then back at her. “He’s not a SEAL, Risa,” Mac stated.
“Yes, he was.” Risa stared up at him in confusion. “He worked primarily in the Middle East.”
Mac shook his head as a touch of worry entered his expression. “I don’t know what he’s trying to pull on you, but I know damned good and well he’s not a SEAL,” he said again. “Not just because I don’t know him, but because SEALs carry themselves a certain way, even after they leave the Navy. If they ever do. That man has never been a SEAL. An agent somewhere perhaps, definitely not someone you want to mess with.” His gaze sharpened on her face then. “Riss, are you in trouble? Do you need help?”
Risa felt an overwhelming surge of affection fill her. That was Mac, always trying to look out for someone else.
“I’m fine.” She shook her head. “But trust me, Micah’s a SEAL.” Wasn’t he? She was desperate to convince herself that at least that much was the truth. That Micah’s entire personality couldn’t be false.
Mac shook his head again. “You trust me, Risa, if that man was a SEAL, then I would have met him. And I know SEALs. He’s nothing—” He broke off. “Riss, is that Ian Richards with him?”
She nodded; she didn’t have to look.
“Riss.” Concern colored his voice. “Sweetheart, what are you involved in?”
“WHO IS HE?” IAN moved in close to Micah as they watched Risa dance with the other man.
“Mac Knight, Special Ops in Iraq,” Micah answered. “And whatever he’s telling her isn’t setting well with her.”
“Fuck, I know Knight.” Ian grimaced. “Special Ops my ass, he’s deep level. Every damned mission over there goes through his office one way or the other. He could blow your cover sky-high.”
“Get Jordan on the line,” Micah ordered him as he straightened from the post. “Have him pull Mr. Knight out, ASAP. I want him unable and unwilling to open his damned mouth.”
Ian flipped open his cell phone as Micah tensed. Risa looked worried. She kept her expression turned from him, her body was tense, and Mac Knight looked thunderous.
Micah watched them, frowning. He didn’t like that proprietary look Knight had in his eyes any more than he liked seeing Risa in the other man’s arms.
“Give Jordan one minute,” Ian murmured. “He’s having him called into base. Jordan will be waiting there on him along with his CO.”
“If it’s not too late,” Micah growled.
They watched, and almost to the minute later the other man paused, his gaze slashing to Micah and Ian as he pulled his cell phone from his jeans, spoke into it, then glared back at them.
Micah smiled, a slow, triumphant curve of his lips that he made certain wasn’t there when Risa turned back to him.
The look in her eyes assured him that she had heard something that had upset her. Something that had most likely pissed her off.
“Ian.” Mac’s gaze was cool as he faced both Micah and Ian. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Mac.” Ian nodded, then looked at Risa before lifting his gaze back to the other man. “Leaving so soon?”
A mocking glint filled Mac’s eyes as Micah curved his arm around Risa’s stiff back and pulled her against him.
“Duty calls,” Mac stated, the mockery fully present in his voice. “I hope you’re looking after Risa,” he warned Ian then.
Ian tilted his head, looked at Risa, then at Mac, and let a smile tip his lips. “I let Micah take care of that, Mac. Since he’s living with her, I’d consider that his job, wouldn’t you?”
Mac didn’t answer. His yellow-brown eyes stared into Micah’s as Micah felt the overwhelming urge to show the little pup exactly who the big dog was where Risa was concerned.
“I’ll be talking to you soon, Ian.” It sounded like a warning as Mac turned to Risa, bent, kissed her cheek, and nodded in farewell before leaving.
“How very interesting.” Risa looked up at Micah with false brightness. “You’re a true man of mystery, Micah.” Then her eyes hardened as she stared at Ian. “I’m ready to go home. I’ve had enough for the night.”
She didn’t give either of them a chance to respond but moved away instead, her hips twitching with a snap. Micah grimaced. She was pissed.
“We’re in trouble,” Ian murmured.
“No,” Micah sighed. “I am. You’re not the one that has to live with her when she’s pissed.”
“True,” Ian grunted. “But I have to live with Kira. Exagent. Remember?”
“She’d just kill you fast,” Micah sighed. “I get to die slow.”
“There is that.” Ian was almost laughing. “There is definitely that, Micah.”
CHAPTER 18
BY THE TIME THE limo pulled up at the apartment building, Micah could feel the tension humming around Risa. She was silent, deadly with feminine rage. He could feel it pulsing in the air around them.
Ian and Kira pulled into the parking lot in front of the building, there more or less on Risa’s orders. With a sweet smile and a firm command she had posed it as a request, but Micah and Ian knew better. The invitation she had made for the other couple to return to the apartment was couched in gentle words, but they’d all seen the look in her eyes.
Kira had been amused but questioning as she looked from Micah to Ian, as though they should know exactly what Knight had said to her.
The hell if Micah had a clue, but he made a mental note to find the bastard himself soon and find out exactly what had happened.
“I’m surprised you wanted company tonight,” Micah observed as Travis opened the door and helped Risa out.
He noticed she released the other agent’s hand as quickly as possible.
“I’m sure you are.” Her voice was as tight as her body; a few times during the ride he thought he’d caught a shimmer of tears in her eyes.
“Risa?” He cocked his head and stared down at her as Ian and Kira moved across the parking lot. “Is there something I should know?”
Her smile was brittle. “I don’t know, Micah. Is there something I should know?”
He controlled a frown as Ian and Kira reached them.
“Risa, everything okay?” Kira looked around at the well-tended grounds, the small park across from the parking area, and the well-lit exterior.
“I’m fine.” Ris
a shrugged as she turned and walked through the door that Clive held open for her.
He nodded at them as she passed. Risa took the time to thank him, to bestow a sweet smile on him. She hadn’t smiled or even chatted since her dance with Mac Knight.
They moved as a group to the elevator. Risa remained silent on the ride up, the tension humming through her reaching out to the rest of them.
She moved up the hall, glared at the door opposite hers, then waited for Micah to unlock the door, check inside, then cover the hall as John moved quickly into the opposite apartment.
Risa stepped inside the apartment, wondering if she was going to strangle on her anger as she turned to the others and pasted a smile on her face. “I’m not much on wine,” she informed them. “I do have beer, though.”
“Beer’s fine, Risa.” Ian nodded, his gaze questioning.
“Great.” Okay, her smile was overly bright, but she wasn’t screaming at them yet. “I’ll get them.”
She moved into the kitchen, took four beers from the refrigerator, popped the lids, and returned to the other room.
When everyone had a cold brew and had found seats, Ian and Kira on the couch, Micah in one of the two easy chairs, Risa perched on the seat of the remaining chair and smiled back at Ian.
“So, how long have you known Micah, Ian?” she asked him.
“About five years.” His look was mildly curious. “Why?”
Why? As though he hadn’t been lying to her, as though he hadn’t been as much a part of the deceit as the others had been.
“You met in the Middle East?” she quizzed him, feeling the tension that threatened to tear her apart from the inside out. “Jordan mentioned that the morning I was told of this little operation. That Micah was a former SEAL. He’d worked with your team.”
Ian stared back at her for long moments before he leaned forward and set his beer on the table.
“Risa, why don’t you just say what’s on your mind?” he said gently. “Don’t beat around the bush with me.”
Her lips nearly trembled. She had to tighten them to hold back the need to cry. Jansen had told her that she was nothing but a crybaby. That she didn’t know how to handle reality or how to be an adult. That she would always deal with her problems by crying.
It seemed he was right. At least in this case.
“You were there,” she whispered. “In that hellhole Jansen let them take me to. You helped rescue me, Ian.”
He nodded as Micah cursed under his breath.
“I was there, Risa,” Ian agreed. “And I wanted to kill those bastards for what they did to you, Emily, and Carrie. If I’d known what happened later, I would have taken you out of that clinic and made certain you were protected. I would have killed Jansen myself.”
She nodded. She knew that. Ian was like that. He would always try to protect others; it was a part of him.
“I trusted you, Ian. You, Reno, Kell, and Macey. I trusted all of you with my life, because you were there.” Her breathing hitched as Micah jerked from his chair and paced closer to her.
“Risa, why don’t you just tell us what Knight said,” Kira stated then, her voice compassionate but matter-of-fact.
Risa turned to Kira and wanted to scream in rage. The tears were tearing her chest apart. They burned behind her eyes; they choked her as they rose in her chest.
She wanted to fold up into herself and escape. To hide as Micah had already accused her of doing. But surely hiding wasn’t as painful as facing the lies.
She wished she were as strong as Kira. As confident. For six years Risa had been so envious of the other woman. But she wondered at the hell it would have to take to find such confidence in her ability to survive. Risa didn’t imagine she could survive worse than what she had known herself, yet she had found no confidence in her survival.
“You didn’t have to lie to me to convince me to meet him,” she whispered, staring back at Ian. “And you didn’t have to lie to me after that, that he was a friend of yours. That he was a SEAL. I wouldn’t have fought this operation you wanted to use me for. All you had to do was tell me he was a friend, Ian. That was all.”
Silence filled the room as she rose to her feet and turned her back on the three of them. She felt as though she were going to shatter.
“You’d think I’d be used to the lies,” she mused roughly. “I should be by now, shouldn’t I? It shouldn’t affect me so much, that you had lied about something so small.”
She turned and faced them. No one said a word. They were watching her cautiously, as though they still weren’t certain exactly what she knew. Even Kira seemed to be on alert, watching her intently. Micah’s black eyes were penetrating, his brows lowered heavily as he watched her.
“Is he even American?” She turned to Ian as though she were only curious. “I could swear at times that he’s not. Can any of you even tell me the truth there?”
“Risa.” Ian cleared his throat.
“Please don’t lie to me again, Ian,” she said conversationally, as though the tears weren’t ripping into her soul. “I counted you and Kira both as friends. People I could depend on.” She almost snorted at that thought. “Perhaps I should have known better. The operation is more important, correct?”
“I warned you,” Kira said softly to her husband as her gray eyes stayed on Risa.
Risa hated the look in her eyes. She hated being watched as though she were a bug under a damned microscope.
“Why did you lie to me!” she screamed back at them, barely aware of the subtle flinch that jerked through Micah’s body as she glared at Ian and Kira.
“Because you needed to trust the man that was going to be sleeping with you, Risa.” Kira was the one who answered her.
The other woman rose to her feet, her look so damned pitying that Risa had to curl her fingers into fists to keep from going for her face.
“Look at you,” Risa accused roughly. “You feel so damned sorry for me, don’t you, Kira? I get sick of the pity in all your eyes. Try telling me the damned truth for a change and you wouldn’t have to feel sorry for poor little Risa.”
Kira winced. “Guilty as charged.” She nodded. “And you’re right: We should have been honest with you. But in our defense, Risa, we could never be certain how strong you were, or how you would have accepted the unvarnished truth.”
“And that truth is?” Risa laughed bitterly. “Let’s see.” She turned to Micah. “That first night he was your good and dear friend who fought with your husband in the Middle East. The next morning he was one of Jordan Malone’s agents committed to protecting me.” She turned back to Kira. “What is he now?”
No one answered her. They stared back at her as though she were demented, but there were no answers forthcoming. She could feel the bitterness tearing through her. It cramped her stomach, ripped at her chest. She felt as though her knees were going to give out on her and leave her clawing at the floor in pain.
She turned to Micah. “No explanations? No answers?” Her voice was grating as she shuddered at the look in his eyes. Part torment, part complete impenetrable male arrogance.
“I can’t tell you what you want to know,” he finally stated. “But know this, Risa: I didn’t lie to you. Nothing I’ve done, nothing I’ve given you, has been a lie.”
“Liar.” She wanted to scream, but the accusation was torn, ragged, instead. “You lied every time you touched me, Micah. You lied to me with every word out of your lips so you could see this mission through. At least admit that.”
“I didn’t have to lie, Risa,” he stated somberly. “Because you didn’t ask questions. And now, you’re asking questions I can’t answer.”
“Of course you can’t.” Her stage whisper was bitter and filled with pain. “Super-secret agents don’t answer questions, do they, Mr. Sloane?”
“This is ridiculous, Risa,” he accused her, his gaze snapping with ire now. “You knew this was a mission. You knew what we were trying to do. You can’t cry foul now. And you can’
t expect me to endanger that mission by answering questions that contain information that could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Information that could only end up hurting you.”
She flinched at the anger in his voice and his refusal to answer something as simple as what the hell he was.
“Well, I guess I’m asking the wrong person.” She turned and swung for the door. “Let’s see what Jordan has to say.”
“No, Risa.” Micah jumped for her, but he was too late. She was out the door, across the hall, and pounding on the door where she knew the so-called agents lodged.
She wanted answers. She didn’t want more lies and she didn’t want more cover-ups. She wanted to know exactly whom she had given her body and her heart to. She wanted to know the man she was going to lose.
“Risa, not right now,” Micah growled, his fingers curling around her arm.
“Now.” She jerked out of his grip as the door swung open.
Jordan stared back at her, his blue eyes glowing with anger as he glared at Micah over her head. But Jordan wasn’t the one who held her attention.
She heard Micah’s vicious curse behind her, Ian’s “God, Jordan, what the hell are you doing?”
Her eyes were held by the man who stared back at her, his topaz gaze shattered as his head lifted from the pictures scattered over the table.
Mac Knight.
He had been her friend when so few young men would even take the time to speak to her. He had danced with her when she would have been humiliated at not having an escort for a particular part of an event.
He had been like a brother. He and his parents had lived on the estate next to the Clays’, so they had socialized often. He had taught her how to play poker one summer. He had slipped her her first bottle of beer.
He was one of the few good memories she had from her youth.
“Risa.” Mac rose slowly to his feet, his oddly colored eyes damp, filled with horror as he stared back at her with pity. “I didn’t know. God, Riss, I didn’t know.”
His voice was thick with anger, regret. And pity.