by Vanessa Kier
The silence in the room was pregnant with his teammates’ desire to do violence on Lachlan’s behalf.
“As I grew older, I did my best to stay away from home. I spent extra time at school and joined every sports team that would have me, particularly those which involved travel to games.” He rubbed at a spot on his lower back.
“When I was twelve,” he continued, “we lived in an flat over his clinic. One day after school I was heading for the stairs to our flat when the receptionist asked me to get a box of paper for her from the back room.” His expression grew distant while he remembered.
“As I walked down the hall, I heard soft cries of distress coming from one of the exam rooms.” He flinched and glanced at the floor. “They sounded too much like the noises I made when my father hurt me.” He shrugged. “Something inside me snapped. I flung open the door and found my father leaning over an older patient. My father held a syringe in one hand and had pressed his other hand over the man’s mouth. Over the top of my father’s fingers I could see the man’s terrified eyes bulging with his efforts to break free. Without thinking, I screamed at my father to stop and pulled him away from the man. We fell to the floor and fought.”
Lachlan’s lips twisted. “You can imagine what it was like for me, finally being able to loose all the rage and hurt I’d been feeling. Sports had made me strong, but my father was a large man so we were evenly matched. But he didn’t let go of the syringe. Afraid that the syringe contained something that would cause pain, I fought with increased strength. Eventually, I managed to turn his wrist and jab the syringe into his chest. He spasmed once, then went still.” Lachlan looked up. “I didn’t realize at first that I’d killed him. I assumed he was just knocked out and went to help the patient.” Lachlan’s hands clenched and unclenched. “My father had become angry over something the man said, strapped him down, and then tried to inject him with whatever was in the syringe. During the police enquiry that followed, I learned that one of the reasons we’d moved around so much was because my father had been killing off patients. He had an innate compulsion to kill. According to the journals he kept, beating me held off the worst of the urges, but eventually he’d break and give in to the need to take a life. He usually went about it systematically, writing down the time and date, the applicable dosage of chemicals, and how long it took the patient to die.”
He would have gotten along splendidly with my mother, Helen thought.
“The receptionist called the police,” Lachlan continued. “I was taken to hospital, where the doctors recorded the signs of chronic abuse. Because my mother was arrested and convicted of being an accessory to my father’s serial murders, and because she denounced me and insisted that my father had only doled out just punishment that I, the disobedient son, deserved, the courts awarded custody of me to my only other living relative, an Irish priest named Father MacGuinessy who’d been assigned to a small church in Scotland.”
“He was one of the hostages killed by the rebels during your last mission for the SAS,” Dev said.
“Aye.” The lingering pain and regret in that word caused tears to well in Helen’s eyes. “Father MacGuinessy gave me the unconditional love and support that I’d never received from my parents. If not for Father MacGuinessy, I likely would have imploded and ended up on the wrong side of the law.”
Once again, he met the eyes of everyone in the room. “I don’t talk about my past to anyone. Kris, in his ultimate nosiness, delved into my sealed records in order to make certain my past wouldn’t prove a threat to the team’s survival.”
A few of the men shot annoyed glances at the computer.
“I didn’t tell you lot because I didn’t want to be seen as that frightened boy. I only want to be treated as the man I am today I’m fairly certain Kris assigned me this mission because he wanted to force me to deal with my fear of doctors.” Lachlan glanced at Lance again. “Although I was doing okay with Lance and Rene. Marcus, if you’ll cover Kris’s ears so his ego doesn’t grow any bigger than it already is, I’ll admit that with all my recent time in hospitals and clinics, I appear to have made progress in that regard.”
Kris’s appreciative chuckle broke the tension.
“The reason why I’m telling you this now is that some of you have already noticed that I lost focus a few times during the talk of Natchaba and his possible issues with his father.” Lachlan shrugged. “Between the overexposure to doctors and the attacks, I reckon I’m more vulnerable now than in years. So I decided to warn you in case I zone out at a critical time.” He paused. “And, well, I imagine some of you heard how I lost my temper and nearly killed a rebel I was interrogating during the hostage rescue mission. It happened because I was desperate for information on Father MacGuinessy’s location.”
Some of the men nodded.
“I’m not excusing what I did,” he said. Helen’s breath caught. He wasn’t looking at her, and she didn’t know if he’d seen her head into the courtyard, but he seemed to be speaking directly to her. “I lost control and stepped over the line. That’s why I’ve been so, ah…”
“Hard-assed,” Hoss called out.
“Aye, that works. But the truth is, I could lose control again if those I care about are threatened. So I understand if you’re not comfortable having me as leader.”
“Shut up, mate.”
“Heck, we’ve broken you in, we’re not bringing in another newbie to train.”
“Don’t send us back to Kris, please.”
“You’re all right, for a stingy Scotsman.”
“Don’t be more of an arse than you already are,” Jacobs said over the Skype line. “We’re all in the same boat. Point to any man on the team and I guarantee he’s committed acts he’s not proud of.”
The men’s taunts and jeers at the ridiculous idea of replacing Lachlan had the desired effect. Helen watched his body relax and a relieved smile creased his cheeks.
“Thank you.” Emotion gave a slight waver to Lachlan’s voice.
“Oh, no. Don’t you go getting all mushy on us, Commander. For that, we really will kick you off the team.” Hoss threw a decorative pillow at Lachlan’s head. That seemed to be a signal, because the men converged on Lachlan. Some muttered what they’d do to his father if he’d still been alive. Others slapped him on the back.
Heart aching for the suffering Lachlan had endured, yet proud of the man he’d become, Helen eased the back door closed and went over to sit in one of the outdoor chairs. This was a special bonding moment for Lachlan and his men. The team might have accepted him before now, but by opening himself up and admitting the root of his vulnerability, he’d earned their respect.
At the same time, seeing the bonds tighten between them only emphasized that she was an outsider in their world. Lachlan hadn’t included her in his confession. While he’d confirmed that her suspicions about his scars were correct, the fact that he hadn’t told her this himself proved that he still didn’t fully trust her.
After a while, she slipped inside and down to the bedroom. Looking around the sparsely furnished room, her eyes landed on the scorched statues and leather medallion that were all that remained of her personal possessions. She envied Lachlan his tight-knit camaraderie with his teammates. Who knew how long it would be before she found another place where she’d feel as if she belonged? Where people would care for her as deeply as Lachlan’s men cared about him?
Blinking back tears, she climbed into bed and listened as the sounds in the other room turned to revelry.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
HELEN DIDN’T SLEEP well. After hours of staring at the ceiling, and watching night move over to dawn, she finally gave up and climbed out of bed.
A few minutes after she’d turned the light on, there was a soft knock at the bedroom door. “Helen?”
Just the sound of her name on his lips angered her. She knew it was unfair, but it still hurt that he’d confessed to his men while excluding her.
Grabbing her clothes, she sch
ooled her features into her professional mask, then opened the door. “Good morning.”
Damn him, he was bare chested. Her eyes dropped to the bullet scars and those, of course, made her think about the other scars he bore.
He studied her face and frowned. “Are you all right?”
She gave him a strained smile. “Fine. I just have a busy day ahead of me. Since I’m already awake, I might as well get going. Will you let today’s bodyguards know, please?” She fled to the bathroom. Dropping her clothes on the closed toilet lid, she braced her hands on the sides of the sink. Dammit, she was shaking. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she and Lachlan had made any sort of commitment. He didn’t owe her a confession. She knew she was being unreasonable.
Yet this ache in her chest only proved that she needed to put distance between them.
The door flew open and banged against the wall. “No,” Lachlan said. “I’m not letting you run away.”
Great. She’d forgotten to lock the door. She pivoted to face Lachlan as he strode into the narrow space.
Having him this close to her body set her blood to sizzling. She had to get him to leave her alone before she did something stupid, like beg him to make love to her.
“No?” she asked, arching her brows.
“You’ve got more courage than to run away like that, Helen.” He leaned forward, crowding her until she either had to back into the open shower area or let his body touch hers. Afraid that if he touched her she’d break down and kiss him, she backed up. But she should have known that retreat wouldn’t deter a soldier. He pursued her until her back pressed against the wall and his muscled chest was pressed against her front.
He placed his palms on the wall on either side of her head. “Tell me what’s upset you, lass.” He ran one finger gently down her cheek to her lips, then traced her frown. “I saw you looking at my bullet scars. Are you bothered by the fact that I’ve been shot? That’s part of my job. But I’m touched that you care.”
“No.” She shoved past him and stormed back to the bedroom.
“Talk to me, Helen.” Using those sneaky soldier skills of his, Lachlan had moved up behind her without her noticing. He ran his hands down her arms until he could lace his fingers through hers. Crossing their joined hands over her belly, he pulled her back against him and pressed his cheek against her hair.
Physically, she felt safe and protected. Emotionally, her soul shivered with the fear of loss and pain.
“You’re trembling, lass.” He rocked her slightly.
“I’m sorry, Lachlan, but I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“You. Me. Us. Whatever relationship we’re on the brink of.” She shook her head as if the gesture could deny the truth she didn’t want to recognize. “I think you’re an incredibly brave man. Not just because of the work you do, but because of the way you opened yourself up emotionally to your men yesterday.” She tightened her fingers on his. “But that bullet scar proves how dangerous your world is. That violence is an integral part of your life.”
He stiffened. “This is still about what happened with David’s prisoner, isn’t it?” She knew him well enough now to hear the hurt in his voice. And the hint of anger.
Good. She’d rather have him angry at her than hurt. “Yes. Partly. Remember what you said that day at the clinic? About the needs of the many outweighing the need of one person? Your confession drove home just how dedicated you are to that principle. Your scars indicate that you’ve experienced the shame and pain of abuse, yet you’ll inflict the same on another person if it means saving or protecting the innocent.”
“That’s right,” he snapped. “I won’t apologize for it.”
“Doesn’t it hurt you to do that?”
“It hurts a lot worse when innocent people die.” The pain in his voice made her think he was remembering Father MacGuinessy.
Her fierce impulse to soothe Lachlan only proved that she needed to drive the wedge deeper between them. “My life is about improving the lives of others, Lachlan. Not degrading them.”
Lachlan inhaled sharply. Helen tore free of his arms but only made it a few steps before he grabbed her arm. “Is that really what you think of me, Helen? That I’m a man only capable of violence? Has our time together shown you nothing more?”
She stared up at him. His eyes swirled with a mix of anger and hurt.
She should tell him yes. That would sever the ties between them.
But she found she couldn’t lie to him. “No. You’re a man forged from violence, but capable of great acts of tenderness. I saw how Sisi’s death grieved you. You’re loyal to your men and they both like and respect you.”
“So what’s the problem, lass?”
“The problem is that I’ve been living at the edges of your world these past few days and I want nothing more to do with it.” She gently disengaged her arm from Lachlan’s grip. “All I want is to find a degree of peace again and to stitch together a new life where no one is trying to kill me.” She tried to walk past him into the hall.
“And you’re saying that there’s no place in this new world for me.” Lachlan’s voice thrummed with anger as stepped in front of her. His nostrils flared and his lips pressed into a tight line. “Tell that to my face. That you’re really willing to walk away from this thing that’s between us.” His hands took hold of her shoulders.
She glared up at him. “See? You can’t name it, either!”
“That’s not the bloody point. The point is that there’s a powerful connection between us. It’s not just sexual. It’s something that persists despite our fundamental differences. Yet you’re so used to shutting people out of your life, so afraid of being hurt the way your mother hurt you, that you run away at the first sign of intimacy.”
“What the hell do you know about it? Are you a psychiatrist? No.” She jerked against his hold. After a tense moment when their angry stares locked, he released his grip. She spun around and stalked across the room before turning to face him.
Sweat slid down her spine and her heart pounded far faster than the situation warranted. Yes, she knew Lachlan could die. The past few days had made that abundantly clear. Yet she’d shoved that fact away as if it didn’t matter. When in truth, the constant threat to his life mattered a great deal.
She took a shaky breath. Was that the real reason she wanted to end things? To save herself future pain when the inevitable happened and Lachlan ended up injured again? Or dying?
The image of Lachlan being brought to her operating table unconscious and covered in blood caused her to sway on her feet.
“I don’t have to be a psychiatrist,” Lachlan shot back, “just someone who understands human nature to recognize that you’re trying to drive me away out of fear, not because you really want me to go.”
“Yet you don’t even trust me enough to tell me about your scars.”
“I don’t have to, do I? You overheard the entire thing, isn’t that right? I saw you sneak into the bedroom from the back door, Helen.” He shook his head. “The lads deserved to hear the story first, but I would have told you this morning.”
Shame filled her, but she couldn’t look away from him.
“It appears that you’re the one who is still afraid to trust me.” His stare bored into her soul. “If you really never want to see me again, lass, tell me so. Tell me to get out of your life and I’ll assign another member of my team to watch over you today.”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
HALF AN HOUR later, Lachlan slammed the refrigerator door shut. Helen’s words had hurt him more than he’d expected. When he’d woken up this morning he’d felt lighter in spirit. The shame of his childhood had been a greater weight than he’d realized. Sharing it the way he had, so that everyone on the team understood the forces that had shaped him, had broken through some sort of final barrier between himself and his mates. He was no longer worried that one of them would ask an awkward question, or that a situation would arise i
n which he’d react poorly due to his past.
But Helen had ruined his newfound peace.
She’d overheard his confession that he’d been abused, then dared to compare what had been done to him to what he’d done to David’s prisoner. Did she really see him as a man who cared nothing about other people? He’d thought he’d shown her differently. After all, hadn’t he changed his attitude toward her?
Right. Fat lot of good that had done. She still automatically believed the worst of him.
Having distance between them was for the best. He needed to stop thinking about the bloody woman and keep his focus on his mission.
He set his plate on the table. Despite their argument, he still wished Helen were here to share the meal with him. But Hoss and Lance had already accompanied her to the hospital.
Someone knocked on the back door.
“Sorry to interrupt, Commander,” Dev said when Lachlan let him in.
“What’s up?” Lachlan asked, sitting back down and motioning for Dev to join him. Dev shook his head.
“One of Obi’s contacts thinks he spotted Natchaba having dinner last evening in a cafe just over the border in the Republic of Dahomey,” Dev said.
“And he’s only telling us now?”
Dev shrugged. “The man lives in a fairly remote region. Yesterday he made his weekly trip into the nearest town for supplies, which is where he spotted Natchaba. But he didn’t see the sketch and the request for information on his whereabouts until he read this morning’s paper while waiting for the bus back to his village.”
“Ah.” The governments of the region had all decided to run pieces in their local newspapers regarding the manhunt for Natchaba. “Okay, bring the lads over. We’ll work out a plan of action.”
Dev nodded, but before he reached the back door, Lachlan’s sat phone rang.
“It’s Kris,” Lachlan said after reading the caller ID.
“I’m thinking that you have ESP,” Lachlan said as he answered, switching the call to speakerphone. “Dev was just updating me on a possible spotting of Natchaba.”