Shelter in a Soldier's Arms

by Susan Mallery

  “Get down,” she yelled.

  A smaller vehicle pulled out next to her and moved close, trying to crowd her off the road.

  She ignored the gunfire and the other car, instead concentrating on the track in front of her. She gunned the engine, shooting forward. There was an explosion off to her right, but Ashley ignored it. Another car came up on her right. She swung her car toward it, bashing it once, then sped off toward the finish line.

  It was only when she’d stopped the car that she realized her heart was racing. She’d done it! She’d completed the course.

  “What’s my time?” she asked Zane.

  “Three seconds behind Henry’s.”

  “Three seconds?” She jumped out of the car and practically danced to where Jeff was standing with a clipboard of his own. “I’m right behind Henry. In second place.”

  “I know,” he said without looking at her.

  She slapped the back of her hand against his upper arm. “Come on.” She leaned close. “Admit it. You think I’m pretty hot stuff.”

  He looked up. She saw the pride and affection in his eyes. “I’m more impressed than you know.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A sharp cry cut through the night. Ashley’s first thought was that this was yet another trick of Jeff’s staff at the executive retreat. But when she opened her eyes, she recognized Jeff’s bedroom in his large house on Queen Anne Hill. This wasn’t a drill.

  She blinked in the darkness and tried to figure out what she’d heard. Was Maggie having a bad dream? Her daughter didn’t usually—

  The cry came again, but not from down the hall. Instead, the sharp outburst of pain came from the man lying next to her. Ashley turned toward Jeff. As she did so, she glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly two in the morning. Often she returned to her own bed to sleep, but tonight something had compelled her to stay with Jeff. Now, as she watched him fight with the covers and speak harsh, unintelligible phrases, she was glad she was there for him.

  She reached out to touch his arm, then remembered the weekend they’d just spent together. He was very much a warrior. While she’d had clues about his skills before, now she had firsthand knowledge. She wanted to wake him up without finding herself in some kind of death grip. She knew he wouldn’t deliberately hurt her, but she had no idea of the content of his dream. In the second or two it took him to return to reality, he could do a lot of damage.

  So instead of touching him, she turned on the light sitting on the nightstand and softly spoke his name.

  He came awake instantly. His eyes opened and he made a quick, visual search of the room. When his gaze settled on her, he stiffened.

  “I was dreaming.”

  She nodded. “You cried out. Are you all right?”

  It was only as she spoke the words that she realized he was both sweaty and ashen. The sound of his harsh breathing seemed to fill the room.

  “Jeff? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  He was anything but. She nibbled on her lower lip, not sure what to do with him. She couldn’t force him to talk nor could she physically make him relax. Not knowing what else to do, she left the light on, but slid back under the covers and snuggled close to him. She lay with her head on her pillow but her arm across his chest. She pressed her legs against his and waited.

  Slowly he began to relax. His breathing evened out and his heated body cooled. While she’d slipped on a nightgown after they’d finished making love, Jeff was still naked. She ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, pausing when she felt a long, slender scar running the length of his rib cage.

  “What is this from?”

  “A knife fight.”

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “Afghanistan.”

  She frowned. “I don’t remember us sending troops into…” Her voice trailed off. “Oh. I guess I wasn’t supposed to know.”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “Jeff, was it like the dream you told me about before? The one where the village is burning and the people are running from you?”

  “Yes.”

  He wasn’t being overly chatty. “There’s more to it, though, isn’t there? You’ve had the dream before when I was with you and I don’t remember you crying out.”

  He half turned away.

  She raised herself up on one elbow and touched his cheek. “Jeff? You can tell me. I’m not afraid of you. If this is a privacy issue, that’s one thing, but if it’s about protecting me, I’ll have to slap you.”

  Her last comment made him turn back to her. He smiled slightly. “Zane told me you were offended by all his ‘girl’ comments. I have to remember to inform him you don’t take a lot of guff from anyone.”

  “That’s right. I’ve had natural childbirth. I know about suffering. I don’t think you can say anything to shock me. So if you want to talk, I’m happy to listen.”

  His smile faded and he closed his eyes. “It was a different dream,” he said quietly. “A visitation from the souls of the dead.”

  At first she didn’t understand what he was saying. And then she knew. The souls of the dead were from people he had killed. She settled back on the bed, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “You were a soldier. You did what you were told.”

  “Does that make it right?”

  “I don’t know. I do know that it doesn’t make you a monster. Despite your ex-wife’s claims to the contrary, you’re not inhuman.”

  He swallowed. “Maggie was there. In my dream. She was screaming for me to save her and I couldn’t. Every time I got close enough to reach her, she saw me and ran away.”

  Ashley shuddered. She didn’t want to hear any more. She didn’t want to know what Jeff had suffered in the process of defending his country and doing his job. She wished there were a way to heal him.

  “There’s a psychological reason that Maggie has suddenly appeared in your dreams,” she said. “You care about her and you want to keep her safe. I have a friend who has a recurring dream about losing a baby. Her kids are long grown and gone, but that doesn’t ease the worrying.”

  “Knowing that doesn’t make it any less real in the dream.”

  “I know.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Jeff, I’m really willing to listen if you think it will help.”

  He didn’t answer. She continued to hold him close. Eventually his eyes fluttered shut and she thought he might have gone back to sleep. She hoped so. He needed his rest. But after a time, he started speaking.

  “I can’t tell you anything more,” he said. “I would never do that. If you knew the truth, you’d never be able to close your eyes again.”

  At first she didn’t believe him, but then he turned to face her and she saw the truth of his words in his expression. She remembered all he’d talked about over the recent weekend. The lessons, the casually told stories. The professional attitude of a man who knows his subject. Suddenly she was cold. A shiver passed through her. She didn’t want to know the horrors of his past.

  Without meaning to, she recalled a lecture from the weekend. It had been about bombs and booby traps, and the damage they could do on the human body. Jeff’s knowledge didn’t come from a book; it came from experience. From watching people die. There had been so much horror and Jeff had been caught in the middle of it.

  “I so want to make it better,” she breathed, and touched his cheek. “Jeff, I don’t know how.”

  He took her hand and pressed his mouth to her palm. In that moment, every last doubt she’d ever had faded as if it had never been. She was more sure than ever that she loved him. She’d probably loved him from the first. It didn’t matter how he felt about her, if he loved her or not. He owned her, heart and soul.

  “Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

  She sniffed. “I didn’t realize I was.”

  He brushed tears from her face. “Why?”

  How could she explain? “Hearing about your past ma
kes me sad. I want to fix it and I can’t.”

  He collected more tears on his fingers then rubbed them against his thumb, as if testing if they were real.

  “No one cries for me.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was telling her that no one was supposed to cry for him, or if no one ever had.

  “I can’t help it,” she said. “I feel your pain.”

  He frowned. “But I’m not like everyone else.”

  “I know.”

  “So you’re disappointed in me?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “No. I’m honored to know you. I’m honored to be a part of your life.”

  He shook his head. “I still don’t understand the tears.”

  “I’m crying because I care.”

  Nearly a week later her words still didn’t make sense. Jeff tapped his pen against the pad of paper in front of him. He had retreated to his study after dinner, supposedly to work. Instead all he could think about was Ashley and the strange conversation they’d had the previous Sunday night.

  She’d cried because of him. He didn’t understand that, nor did her saying she was crying because she cared make sense. As far as he could tell, nothing between them had changed. She was still sharing his bed, still trusting him with her daughter. He wanted to believe that everything was all right between them, but he wasn’t sure. He had a sense of impending doom. He knew he was waiting for her to get angry and come after him.

  Hadn’t she gotten it? She’d spent the weekend with him, seeing him for what he was. If the lectures and demonstrations hadn’t scared her away, his nightmares should have. Hell, he’d dreamed that Maggie was in danger, yet too afraid of him to allow him to rescue her. Didn’t Ashley understand? Didn’t she know that meant that when it really counted he was going to let her down?

  He didn’t want to. He would rather cut out his own heart than hurt either Ashley or Maggie, but he wasn’t going to have a choice. He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t like other men. He was—

  The door to his study flew open. Ashley stepped inside and planted her hands on her hips. She glared at him.

  Despite her obvious temper, he drank in the sight of her. She was beautiful, with her flashing eyes and flushed skin. Her sweater hugged her slender torso and her worn jeans outlined narrow hips. He couldn’t help smiling when he saw the fluffy cow socks on her feet.

  “Oh, sure, go ahead and laugh,” she announced. “But you, mister, are in so much trouble.”

  His humor faded as if it had never been. This was it. She knew the truth and she was leaving him.

  He didn’t speak. What was he supposed to say? He’d always known it was going to end like this.

  She walked toward the desk. “You’re avoiding me. You’ve been avoiding me all week, and don’t even think about telling me you’re busy with work. What’s going on?”

  “I do have work,” he insisted. “I have the Kirkman case. It needs my attention.”

  Ashley didn’t even blink. “Sell it somewhere else. What’s wrong? I’ve been thinking about the sequence of events in recent days. As near as I can figure it, you started acting weird last Monday. Which means it was after that dream you had. The one we talked about. What’s the problem, Jeff? Did we connect? Are you concerned because I’m getting too close?”

  She was, but not in the way she meant. He was waiting for her to figure out the truth about him and then run.

  She sighed. “What is it? Are you mad at me?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Oooh, he speaks.” She glared. “Okay, you’re not mad. What about having Maggie and me here. Are you changing your mind about that?”

  Her question stunned him. He half rose to his feet before settling back in his leather chair. “I don’t want you to move out. I enjoy having you here.”

  She took another step closer to the desk. “Finally we’re getting somewhere. Okay, so you’re not mad and you want us here. Are you happy?”

  He wasn’t even sure what she meant, let alone figuring out the emotion itself.

  “I can see from your face that you’re not,” she said with a sigh, and settled into the chair opposite his desk. “Okay. Not mad, not happy, yet you still want me here. Care to explain all this?”

  She was trying. He could tell that he’d confused her and he needed to make things more clear. The problem was he didn’t know how.

  “It’s about the dream,” he told her, staring at the desk, not wanting to see her expression. “I don’t like that I have it. I don’t like what it says.”

  “You mean you’re uncomfortable about your past?”

  “No.” He sucked in a breath. “You saw my weak spot.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he looked at her. She stared at him blankly. He nearly groaned. How much more was he supposed to explain? Why didn’t she get it? Weakness was danger. Weakness was to be despised. He wanted to be with her and he was terrified of her getting too close. He was a soldier and he needed a soldier’s detachment. When he was around her, he couldn’t stay detached. Not anymore.

  For the first time in his life he was afraid. Of what was inside of him. Of losing someone important.

  She leaned toward him and rested her arms on his desk. “Was the weakness that you shared it with me or was it what you talked about?”

  “What we discussed.”

  She stared at him. “Okay. We talked about the dream and your inability to rescue Maggie. Is it that you failed?”

  He shifted in his seat. Was she torturing him on purpose? “Yes.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll use your perceived weakness against you or think less of you?”

  He sprang to his feet. “Dammit, what else would it be?” he demanded.

  She rose and glared at him. “Don’t you yell at me. I’m not the idiot in this room. You are.” She circled around the desk and pushed in front of him.

  “I’m not the enemy,” she said as she poked a finger into his chest. “Stop treating me like I am. Stop hiding out because you act like a human being. It’s more than allowed. It’s the sort of behavior I would encourage.”

  She placed her hands on his arms and tried to shake him. “Don’t you get it? I care about you.” She paused as if she wanted to say more, then continued. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t think less of you. In fact, I admire you very much. Maybe in soldier-speak you’ve violated some manly code. Maybe in that world, showing your softer side is dangerous. But when it comes to a personal relationship between a man and a woman, being vulnerable is generally a good thing. I want you to trust me the way I trust you.”

  “You trust me?”

  She threw up her hands. “Is that all you got out of what I said?”

  “No.”

  He’d heard every word; he just wasn’t sure he believed it.

  “Jeff, here’s the news flash, so pay attention. I care about you more because of your confession. Knowing about your pain and the darkness in your soul makes me feel closer to you. It doesn’t make me want to run away. So if that was your goal, you failed.”

  His throat was dry and it was difficult to speak. “What about the weekend? Did that change anything?”

  “Zane got on my nerves a little, but aside from that, no, nothing is different.” She paused and looked up at him. “I take that back. I think I have a clearer understanding of what it is that you do. I respect your abilities more. But that’s it.”

  He felt as if someone had lifted the weight of the world off his shoulders. She wasn’t mad, she wasn’t running away.

  “I’m glad,” he said simply.

  She smiled. “Prove it.”

  At first he wasn’t sure what she meant. Then he saw the passion flaring in her eyes. She wanted him. She wanted to make love and have him touch her everywhere.

  He didn’t know how that was possible, but he wasn’t about to ask questions or turn her down. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up until he could set her on the edge of the desk. Then he dropped his mouth to h
ers and kissed her.

  By now he was familiar with the taste of her mouth. He slipped between her lips, savoring the soft sweetness waiting there. They touched and circled, performing a dance that was uniquely their own. Need filled him—a growing heat and desire that made his blood throb and that most male part of him flex against her belly.

  She was perfect for him, he thought hazily as he broke the kiss and pressed his mouth to her jaw, then her neck. Everything about her was exactly right. The texture of her skin, the scent of her body, the way her hands rubbed against his chest, igniting fires before fumbling with his shirt buttons.

  He grasped the hem of her sweater and tugged upward. She leaned back enough to allow him to pull the garment over her head and toss it to the floor. Her bra was next. He quickly unfastened the slender hook and slid the scrap of lace down her arms.

  Her nipples were already tight buds, thrusting toward him in the faint coolness of the room. He cupped her breasts, absorbing their weight, their temperature and their silky smoothness. Need hummed hotter inside of him. He longed to rip the rest of her clothes from her body and thrust himself inside of her. But he held back. Giving Ashley pleasure first made his own release better. Not only was she slick and ready for him, he’d learned that once she climaxed, she would release again and again when he entered her. Those rapid contractions were the best part of making love with her.

  He lowered his head and took her right nipple in his mouth. As he swirled his tongue around the beaded flesh, he settled his hands on her waist and began unfastening her jeans. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. She arched into his licking caresses, breathing heavily and murmuring his name.

  With one quick tug, he shoved off her jeans and panties. She wore only socks scrunched around her ankles. The sight of her in them and nothing else was oddly erotic, so he left the socks in place. He shrugged out of his shirt and placed it on the desk behind her.

  “Lie down,” he instructed. “It’s time I went to work.”

  She laughed even as she stretched out on the desk. He settled into his chair and pulled it close to her. She’d parted her legs and now he moved between them. He could already feel the heat of her arousal. She would be damp and ready for him. He knew exactly how sweet she would taste, how she would moan at the first stroke of his tongue, how her muscles would tense and her legs would draw back as she approached her climax.