Red-Hot Santa

by Tori Carrington

  LOOKING INTO MAX’S pain-filled and questioning eyes was too difficult, so he made a point of not doing it.

  Jackson placed the call directly to Lincoln Williams rather than through Lazarus Security for two reasons: one, he knew Linc would ask him no questions and would put his government connections to quick use and two, he’d prefer his brother Jason not know about this.

  Five minutes later, he broke the connection and stood staring at the quiet forest. Linc had promised to get back to him within minutes with exit details.

  “Jax?”

  The quiet question in Max’s voice touched a spot so deep inside him, he was afraid he might never close it off again. He looked at her before realizing he shouldn’t have, taking the moment to drink in her face.

  Even all smudged and dirty, with remnants of camo paint, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. Oh, maybe not strictly physically, but that wasn’t the point. What he knew of her inside, the way her mind worked, the way her heart worked, it all combined to make her the most beautiful person he’d ever been lucky enough to cross paths with.

  And it was because of that, he couldn’t allow this, whatever was happening between them, to go any further. He’d only hurt her. And he couldn’t bear that.

  Only the idea of stopping what had already started, was hurting him. Go figure.

  An immediately recognizable light of hope sparked in her green eyes.

  He forced himself to look away.

  The satellite phone rang. He turned and answered it, pacing some ways away first.

  “Got it,” Linc said.

  Two minutes later he had a plan. It wasn’t an ideal one. But it would get them all out of there alive and in one piece.

  Which was more than anyone had expected a half hour ago.

  Pointedly ignoring Max, he slid the phone into his sack and then hoisted it onto his shoulders.

  “We’re out of here. Let’s go…?.”

  14

  MAX’S BONES SAGGED as she exited the military transport plane and descended the stairs to the Colorado Springs tarmac. The December wind blew hard, freezing her teeth, reminding her Christmas was next week…and that the cold outside had nothing to do with the cold that gripped her from within.

  They’d left with sixteen and returned with eight. Polson was the only surviving member from the other team.

  The reality ripped straight through her.

  She’d confronted some pretty hairy situations during her six-year stint in the service, but nothing that resulted in such a high mortality rate. While still in the thick of things, you learned to push such realities aside, adrenaline helping keep you focused.

  But now that she was home and reality was more about Christmas carols and colored lights, the contrast made her dizzy.

  As did Jackson’s odd behavior.

  She watched him as he shook hands and shared a hug with a tall, dark man near the arrivals building. Was he the one responsible for helping with their exit? She’d chance a yes. While she’d like nothing better than to express her appreciation for the man’s assistance, right now she didn’t think she could handle any more icy treatment from Jackson for fear she might shatter.

  She guessed it went without saying she was grateful…?.

  Back in the clearing in that godforsaken, hostile-filled jungle, Polson had balked at the thought of more hiking when Jackson had issued a curt, “Let’s go.” Max reminded Polson that even if they had to make wings out of feathers they found on the ground and fly out of there, they would do what it took.

  Of course, she’d had no idea at the time that the journey ahead of them would be as long as the journey behind them. They’d trekked fifteen klicks toward the coast, one of the most dangerous hot spots for warlord activities, ditching their sacks and all but the most basic of their weaponry outside town before going in to rendezvous with their contact. Polson had nearly shit himself when they’d approached a group of well-armed men who looked much like the hostiles they’d already encountered. In fact, Max wouldn’t be surprised if they’d been connected to the same gang.

  It was the largest of the men Jackson had spoken to. And within moments, all eight of them were being led to a large compound within the city.

  Polson hadn’t wanted to enter. Max had to admit she was a little leery about subjecting herself to further scrutiny, especially since the all-male army appeared very interested in her and Taylor.

  But she trusted Jackson. And after meeting with what appeared to be one of the high commanders, they were driven to the coast where they caught a boat transport to meet up with another, captained by people Jackson appeared to know.

  Within twenty-four hours, they were safe and stateside.

  Strangely, Max wouldn’t have minded being still trapped in that jungle together, hostiles and all, so long as it meant Jackson would look at her again…?. Touch her…?.

  “Maxine!”

  She was startled to hear her name called the instant she walked inside the arrivals hub. She had to blink three times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things as her mother rushed up to hug her.

  The extreme shift of emotion caught her off guard. She dropped her gear and hugged her mother back in a way she couldn’t remember doing since she was a kid, allowing herself an unguarded moment of indulgence. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Tabu, her mother’s perfume, and absorbing her softness.

  “Oh, honey, are you okay?” her mother murmured, but didn’t try to move away. “What happened?”

  Max opened her eyes to catch Jackson looking at her, the expression on his face warming her…and confusing her.

  She’d had no idea he’d called her mother to meet her there. She was grateful. And heartbroken. She hadn’t known what she’d expected, hoped? That he might take her home? That she might finally get a chance to talk to him? Ask him what was going through his head?

  Now she wasn’t going to get that.

  And what about him? Who would be looking after him?

  Her mother finally drew back just a bit and smoothed her hair back from her face. “You look like you’ve been through hell and back.”

  Funny, she felt as if she had. In more ways than one.

  She looked around as the remaining team members greeted their families. It appeared her mother wasn’t the only one Jax had contacted.

  “Come on. I know you don’t like to talk about stuff. So let’s just get you home and into a nice, hot bath.” She linked arms with her. “And maybe later we can go Christmas shopping.”

  Max found comfort in her mother’s ramblings as they headed toward the exit, but not enough to touch the pool of pain growing in her chest. She looked over her shoulder at Jackson, but found he had turned to continue talking to the man he’d met outside. While she walked forward, she felt oddly like her feet were stuck in mud, time having stopped at the moment she’d looked into his eyes and registered everything had changed.

  And she had no idea how to go about starting it up again…

  “HEY, MAN,” LINCOLN Williams said. “You okay?”

  Jackson hauled his gaze away from Max’s retreating back, although his thoughts remained with her. He was glad her mother made it in to pick her up. He hadn’t told Cindy much beyond the fact that Max had been through a difficult mission and would need a ride home. But just knowing she was going to be looked after made him feel better.

  But not as good as he’d hoped it would.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

  He considered the man who had not hesitated to do the impossible by getting him and the others out of Africa. Linc had served with his brother Jason and was one of the partners at Lazarus Security. A fellow ex-Marine, then F.B.I., none of them were sure of the extent of his connections. They just knew they were considerable.

  As recent events merely served to prove.

  “No problem. I’d have been upset if you hadn’t called me.”

  “Chances are I’d be dead if I hadn’t called you.�
��

  “No. I’m sure you would have gotten you and your remaining team members out.”

  Polson came up, effusively thanked Linc, grudgingly acknowledged Jackson, then told him he’d meet up with him back at Pegasus the following day.

  “Sorry, man, but I won’t be going back,” Jackson said, shaking his hand.

  “What? Scared?”

  Jackson chuckled without humor. “Yeah. Of their piss-poor support. I’d advise you to look elsewhere, as well.”

  He knew some tended to forget the heat of battle the instant they were out of it. Polson appeared to be one of them. He’d rush right back into the fray, having forgotten everything that had come before. The word “lesson” was completely foreign to him.

  While it bothered Jackson to think the guy would be going back to that piece of shit operation, it was Polson’s decision. And this was where his responsibilities officially ended.

  As for his team, he’d spoken to them on the plane and not one was going back.

  “Yeah, right,” Polson said, grinning. “See you around then.”

  “Yeah. Good luck.”

  Polson walked away, chuckling.

  “I don’t know him and already I don’t like him,” Linc said.

  Jackson nodded. “Yeah. Real ass.”

  “Maybe you should have left him back in the jungle.”

  Jackson looked at him. “I’m just glad someone else outside my team made it out alive.”

  Linc’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t know the entire story. And Jackson wasn’t up to telling him just then…if ever.

  “Who’s the girl?”

  He frowned.

  “Don’t play that. I saw the way you were looking at her.”

  Jackson laughed. He’d heard it rumored that the once silent Linc had gone all soft lately. He understood it was because he’d fallen for some girl who now lived in Maine and was the reason Linc worked the majority of the time out of Boston now. But he wouldn’t have believed it unless he’d seen it.

  He shrugged. “Just some girl I went to school with…?.”

  He winced even as he said the words.

  He’d never referred to Max in such an indifferent way. She’d always been the girl next door, his best friend.

  Now?

  He stretched his neck and set his jaw.

  “Yeah. Just some girl,” Linc agreed with disagreement. He put an arm over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get out of here. You’re stinking up the place in more ways than one.”

  Jackson picked up his sack and they walked out. If he was hoping Max and her mom were still somewhere nearby, he wasn’t admitting to it, even to himself.

  Linc led him to a black Mercedes with tinted windows. It belonged to the Lazarus fleet, he knew. Bullet-proof and tweaked for double the performance of the regular model.

  “By the way,” Linc said as he popped the trunk. “I talked to your brother earlier.”

  Jackson’s movements slowed as he hoisted his gear inside. “Did you say anything?”

  Linc closed the trunk. “Of course not.”

  His friend stood looking at him for a long moment.

  “But you think I should,” Jackson finally said.

  “You’ve got to do what you think best. But, yeah, I do think you need to tell him.”

  The mere idea of him telling his older brother he had gone off on that dumbass mission, much less that he’d failed at it and had relied on Linc to get him out made Jackson’s teeth ache.

  “He and Jordan are coming in for the holidays tomorrow.”

  The holidays.

  God, he’d completely forgotten. He’d been so preoccupied, he’d barely noticed it wasn’t ninety degrees with a hundred percent humidity.

  He blinked and looked around. Everyone seemed to be greeting family members just arriving and “Jingle Bells” was piped through the airport’s sound system.

  He grimaced.

  “Come on. I’ll take you out to your grandmother’s place.”

  Jackson shook his head as they headed for opposite doors. “My truck’s at Pegasus. I’d much rather you took me there.”

  “Then you’ll head to your grandmother’s?”

  No, he planned to go to his apartment in town. Cleo would be missing him. Chuck had been looking after her while he was gone, but it wasn’t the same.

  “Since when have you become a mother hen?”

  Linc threw his head back and laughed harder than Jackson had ever seen him do. Then they both got into the car…

  15

  MAX FELT JUST this side of roadkill.

  She cracked her eyes open to find dreary daylight filling her room. She sighed and rolled onto her back, her arm across her eyes. She’d been back a day, and had slept most of it, but yearned for more. A full week at least.

  She peered at the clock and then covered her eyes again. It was just after nine. She was surprised neither her mom nor aunt had come in after her yet. They’d hovered over her so much yesterday, she’d been forced to ask them for some privacy.

  They’d looked so hurt, she’d winced at her abrasiveness.

  Truth was, she’d never spoken to either of them about some of the horrors she’d seen during her tour in the military. And she never would. It almost seemed like some sort of unwritten rule among the Marines. Forget Vegas. What happened on the battlefield, stayed on the battlefield.

  Oh, counselors encouraged them to speak. Communication was comparable to disarming an emotional land mine, one of them had once told her. But how did she explain to her mother and aunt what she’d seen? Wasn’t it bad enough she had nightmares that kept her up at night? Did she really want to plant the images in their minds so they could keep her company?

  No. Better they not know the details.

  Especially about this latest mission.

  Images screamed through her head, one after the other, the rapid report of gunfire deafening her.

  She drew in a deep breath and let it out. While the experiences of the past few days were indirectly to blame for her revisiting old memories, she knew she was distracting herself from the truth of her deep sense of melancholy: Jackson Savage.

  She glanced toward the window. She couldn’t count the times she’d padded across the room to stare out onto the frozen landscape, wondering if he’d come out to his grandmother’s home or stayed in town. She’d held her cell phone tightly in both hands, longing to call him. She’d even dialed once and quickly hung up, praying her number hadn’t had a chance to register on his end, yet not caring if it had.

  What hurt beyond all else was that she had no clue what had happened. No idea what had made him turn from her so completely. If she knew, she could formulate a plan to deal with it, dress her wound and limp on. Instead she felt as if she was bleeding to death.

  There was a soft rap at the door.

  Max squeezed her eyes closed tighter.

  “Maxi?” The hinges squeaked as her mom ventured inside the room. “You awake?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly.

  Moments later the mattress shifted slightly. Max opened her eyes to see her mother sitting down beside her. Concern was etched so deeply on her face, it made Max hurt.

  “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Tears stung the back of her eyes, surprising her.

  “Oh, honey…” Cindy moved in and gathered Max in her arms, something she hadn’t done since Max was a young girl. “Shhh…it’ll be okay. Everything’ll be okay. You just wait and see.”

  Max tried to find the strength to fight, but instead surrendered, weeping nakedly against her mother’s shoulder…

  JACKSON HAD A LIST the length of his forearm to complete, yet all he could do was sit at his kitchen table staring at his cup full of cold coffee.

  He was exhausted yet he hadn’t slept a wink. He was hungry, but couldn’t bring himself to eat. He was hurting, but couldn’t seem to do anything to address the pain.

  So he merely sat.

  Cleo leaped onto the
table and padded over to him, rubbing her nose against the side of his face. He blinked, registering that her nose was cold, and she was purring, but unable to do much more.

  He didn’t get it. He’d seen dozens of battles. Had witnessed countless casualties. Faced brutal opponents. Yet he couldn’t ever remember a time when he’d felt this out of it before.

  He distantly registered the ringing of his cell phone but couldn’t remember where it was, much less answer it.

  He began lifting his cup, then forgot why and put it back down.

  Cleo stopped cleaning her flank long enough to stare at him, then walked over to the cup and stuck her nose inside. The sound of her lapping was loud in the otherwise silent apartment.

  Jason…

  He winced. His brother was going to freak when he found out Jackson had used Lazarus Security resources to get out of Africa.

  Damn.

  That was one conversation he wasn’t looking forward to having. He could already hear Jason saying “I told you so” in several different languages and myriad tones of voice when it came to his warning against signing with Pegasus.

  As for any future he might have had with Lazarus: gone.

  That was probably for the best. If these past few days had proven anything to him, it was that his brother was right.

  He snorted.

  At least that part of the conversation Jason would enjoy.

  “Hey, big brother, you were right. I’m not cut out for this business. You’ll be happy to know I now get that I’m a complete, abject failure…?.”

  The words wove around his brain and back, settling somewhere near his solar plexus. He absently rubbed his chest, imagining Jason’s self-satisfied grin.

  He closed his eyes, thinking of the men he’d lost in Africa. There was no taking that back. No erasing the visions of their dead and dying bodies. No chance at another shot to make things different.

  He lifted his cup and took a sip of the cold coffee, grimacing when he had to take a long, black cat hair out of the side of his mouth. Cleo stared at him as if to say, “So?”

  He pushed from the table, dumped the cup’s contents into the sink, rinsed it, then took the vodka bottle out of the freezer and poured a finger inside the cup. He knocked it back, stood for a moment, then took the bottle out again. He carried both back to the table, pouring as he went.