Next To Die

by Marliss Melton

  As their gazes met, Penny’s eyes stung with the abundance of love in her heart, love she dared not reveal lest he feel awful for not returning it.

  He admires me, she thought, answering his smile with a pained smile of her own. If he felt more for her than admiration, this would have been the moment to tell her; after all, she could have died today.

  “Good news,” came the voice of poison specialist, startling them both as he bustled into the room. “Your blood looks absolutely normal, Lieutenant Price. You’re in the clear.”

  “Thank God,” declared Joe, stepping away to pump the doctor’s hand. “It’s over, Pen,” he declared, turning back. “Come on.” He reached for her to help her sit up. “Let’s go home and celebrate.”

  Home? thought Penny with a pang. Home was a place you shared with your family, not your lover. And a family wasn’t something Joe wanted to give her. Good thing she’d seen this impasse coming and taken desperate measures to avoid it.

  Chapter Twenty

  On the eve of Thanksgiving, the Norfolk International Airport was a madhouse. “I can’t believe the Navy put me on a commercial flight,” Penny fretted, eyeing the departure monitor for cancellations and delays. “Well, look at that. It’s still on time,” she marveled.

  “So is mine,” said Joe, studying the next screen over.

  “I guess that makes us some of the lucky ones,” she quipped. They’d spent the last hour browsing the gift shops, listening to other passengers fret about their delayed flights. She’d secretly hoped that her own flight would be delayed, giving her more time with Joe, whose flight wasn’t for another three hours. He’d been kind enough to come early just to see her off.

  Now the reality of Penny’s impending departure put a leaden feeling in her stomach. She wasn’t ready for this.

  “Well,” he said with reluctance, “guess we’d better head to your gate.”

  Ignoring the fact that she was traveling in uniform, Penny reached for his hand and clung to it. Why not? It was possibly the last time she might get to hold it again. She was headed into a war zone. Life didn’t come with guarantees.

  As they made their way through security and the swarm of human traffic, voices over the intercom announced departures and delays. Babies squalled. Frantic passengers argued with counter personnel.

  The tension in the atmosphere seeped through Penny’s thin skin, tying her stomach into knots. Strangely, though she was headed to D.C. and then to Iraq, it wasn’t her physical well-being that concerned her. She could feel the pressure of her impending sorrow cracking through the veneer of her heart.

  Yes, it was her idea to do this—to rescue herself from potential heartbreak. But with the moment upon her, she didn’t want to go through with it.

  Would she find him in the arms of another woman when she returned? The thought decimated her. How could he dote on her, make love to her, cherish her the way he had these past weeks if he didn’t love her and her alone?

  “See anywhere to sit?” he asked her as they slowed beside her gate.

  “I don’t want to sit down,” she confessed, placing an arm across her midriff.

  With a discerning gaze, Joe put their travel bags at his feet and pulled her against him, holding her firmly.

  Tears sprang into Penny’s eyes as she submitted to his comfort. There was nowhere in the world she’d rather be than here, with her head against Joe’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, breathing his clean male scent. It was everything she needed to be happy.

  How frightening was that?

  “God, I’m going to miss you, Pen,” he said gruffly, holding her even tighter. In the background came the first announcement for her departing flight.

  He sounded so sincere. Plumbing the depths of his feelings for her, Penny gave a watery laugh. “Yeah, sure. In five days you’ll forget about me. I know you, Joe Montgomery.”

  To her surprise, he nudged her chin up. She caught her breath at the frown on his face and the passion in his eyes. “I don’t think you do,” he quietly accused. “’Cause I only just figured that out myself.” To her astonishment, he jammed his fingers into her hair, loosening the bun at the back of her head, and kissed her hard.

  Drowning in his fervent kiss, Penny could scarcely think. On and on he kissed her, in complete disregard of the crowd lining up to board the plane.

  What did he mean he’d just figured that out himself? What was he trying to tell her?

  She savored his explosive kiss, absorbed it like a flower soaking up sunlight. Her world revolved around him. She would have let him kiss her forever, but at last, he sealed it sweetly and raised his head.

  Several people applauded, but Penny was too stunned to care.

  “Now go,” said Joe gruffly, his face flushed, his eyes smoldering. “Go do good things for other people, Penelope Anne Price. But you’d better come home safe and sound to me. And that’s an order,” he added.

  Penny struggled to find her voice. Hope shot roots deep into her heart. “Aye aye, sir,” she managed to choke.

  Dazed, she accepted the carry-on luggage that he thrust into her hands. She stepped obediently into the quick-moving line, groping for her boarding pass and ID.

  They maintained eye contact right up to when the attendant took her ticket. Joe lifted a hand in farewell, his bereft expression touching her heart.

  “I love you, Joe!” she shouted out at the last minute. His eyes flared, and a stunned look overtook his sorrowful expression.

  With a hot face and fearing the ramifications of her impulse, Penny turned and fled down the ramp.

  If that didn’t make Joe run, then maybe nothing would.

  Oh, God, please let him be waiting when I get back.

  As Vinny parallel parked before a line of clapboard row houses on the east side of Philadelphia, Lia wiped the sweat off her palms. She felt like she’d stepped onto an alien planet where the buildings were closer together and trash fluttered in an inhospitably cold wind. “Which house is it?” she asked, suffering butterflies in her stomach.

  “Right there.” He pointed to a butter-yellow home with flaking paint and a sagging front porch.

  Lia swallowed hard. Would the fact that she and Vinny were from different worlds affect their future together?

  He cut the engine and caught her look of uncertainty. “I love you,” he said, leaning close to put his forehead against hers. “Don’t be nervous. I’ve told you a hundred times, they’re gonna love you.”

  “If you say so,” she said, blowing out a breath.

  They’d barely stepped out of the car when the front door of his home flew open. A dark-haired girl rushed down the porch steps and, with a squeal of delight, threw herself into Vinny’s arms. As he spun her around, Lia realized that the wild-haired creature was his fifteen-year-old sister, Isabella.

  “Bella,” he said, putting her on her feet. “I want you to meet someone. This is Lia.”

  Cherry-brown eyes widened as they assessed her. “Hi,” said Bella shyly. She was all knees and elbows, having yet to grow into her coltish body.

  “Nice to meet you,” Lia murmured. She hates me, she thought. The front door opened again, and she braced herself for worse.

  “Vincente!” cried the woman rushing toward them with her arms thrown open.

  Buxom and brunette, with just a hint of silver in her hair, Vinny’s mother engulfed him in a hug. She gave him a big kiss on both cheeks, then put him at arm’s length. “Vincente, figlio mio,” she crooned. “Every time I see you, you grow more handsome.”

  “Mama, please,” he said, shrugging out of her embrace. “I want you to meet Lia.” He reached out to tug Lia closer. “This is the woman I told you about. I asked her to marry me.”

  Mother and daughter gaped. The city noises seemed to swell in proportion to their sudden silence. “Dio mio,” his mother breathed, her gaze jumping to Lia’s left hand. She looked horrified.

  Vinny looped an arm over Lia’s shoulders. Her mouth was d
ry; her heart galloped. Their love was doomed. But then—

  “Welcome!” cried Vinny’s mother. Clasping Lia’s face, she planted kisses on both her cheeks. “Vincente has told me so much about you,” she added. “I should have guessed he would want to marry you.”

  “Thank you,” Lia murmured, both stunned and disconcerted by the woman’s sudden warmth. She looked at Vinny for an explanation.

  “What’d I tell you?” he said with a shrug.

  An hour later, Lia, Vinny, and Isabella sat around a tiny kitchen table, which Rosa, Vinny’s mother, had covered with a lace tablecloth. Producing a bottle of wine and crystal goblets, she’d toasted their engagement, then threw herself into a frenzy of cooking.

  “Amore!” she sighed, scraping diced cilantro into the bubbling spaghetti sauce. From time to time, she glanced at Lia and Vinny, who sat with their shoulders touching, and dabbed her eyes with the hem of her apron. Isabella, who had overcome her shyness, regaled them with news of her social life.

  “Why are you friends with so many boys?” Vinny interrupted firmly. “Boys are trouble. You stay away from them.”

  Isabella rolled her eyes. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Vinny,” she informed him.

  “Yes, you are.” He leaned across the table to fix her with a stern look. “As long as you’re my sister, you’re still a little girl.”

  “Basta, Isabella,” Rosa called from the stove. “Let Vinny’s fidanzata talk. Do you work, cara Lia?” she inquired.

  “I’m a reporter,” said Lia, “for a television news station.”

  “She’s gonna be famous, Mama,” Vinny inserted. “On her first story ever, she exposed the ricin killer. You know, the guy that poisoned four military officers, the ones involved in friendly-fire situations.”

  “I read about that in the newspaper,” piped up Isabella.

  “What’re you doin’ readin’ newspapers?” Vinny scolded. “You don’t need to know what’s going on out there.”

  Isabella looked at Lia and sighed. “How do you put up with him?” she asked.

  “Your parents must be so proud of you,” Rosa marveled at the same time.

  Sorrow pricked Lia’s heart, delaying her response.

  “She doesn’t have any parents, Mama,” Vinny said, in that gentle tone that made Lia want to crawl into his lap.

  “What!” Rosa cried, dropping the ladle into the pot.

  As Vinny explained that Lia’s mother had abandoned them and her father had been murdered by the ricin killer’s hit man, Rosa clucked her tongue and wrung her apron. Tears welled up in the woman’s dark eyes, and Lia felt her own eyes sting.

  “Povera figlia!” Rosa exclaimed, approaching Lia’s chair to kiss her, yet again, on both cheeks. “I will be your mama,” she declared.

  “Boy, will she,” muttered Vinny under his breath.

  Rosa wagged a finger at him. “You hush,” she told him. “Every girl who’s getting married needs a mama. When is date of the wedding?” she asked.

  Vinny and Ophelia just looked at each other. “We haven’t set a date yet,” Ophelia answered quickly.

  “Her career’s just getting off the ground,” Vinny explained. “And I have to decide if I’m reenlisting or goin’ to college.”

  “I see,” said Rosa, looking disappointed. She went back to stirring the sauce. “In that case, Lia will have to share a room with Isabella tonight,” she said airily.

  “Mama!” Vinny protested.

  Lia hid a wry smile behind her glass of wine. Separate bedrooms or not, Vinny would find a way to be with her.

  As the banter continued, a sense of well-being stole into Lia’s heart. Strange, but in this unfamiliar environment, surrounded by people she hardly knew, she suddenly felt right at home.

  Joe felt like Old Man Scrooge himself, climbing the steps to Gabe Renault’s beach house. The sounds of merriment that drifted out of the lofty contemporary nearly had him turning around. But it was Christmas evening. As commander of the folks in there celebrating, he was obligated not only to attend the party, but to pretend he was enjoying himself.

  His crisp knock was answered by Gabe and Helen Renault’s daughter, a teenager with a ready smile and a grinning Labrador retriever. “Good girl,” said Mallory to the dog, who sat obediently at the threshold. “Hi,” she said to Joe, who’d gotten to know her several weeks ago when the Renaults had him over for dinner. “They’ve been taking bets on whether or not you’d show up.”

  “Oh, really.” He’d learned to expect just about anything out of Mallory. “Guess I’ve been a real grump lately.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “You’re not the only one.”

  He had no time to ponder what that meant. Gabe Renault rounded the corner and said, “Mallory, stop talking his ear off and show him in.”

  “See what I mean?” said the teen, stepping back to let Joe in.

  Gabe’s wife, Helen, bustled over. “We’re so glad you could make it,” she said, accepting the bottle of sherry he gave her. “Oh, this’ll go great in the sangria I’m making.”

  Joe couldn’t believe the bulge on her slim, athletic frame. “Wow, the baby’s grown a lot in the last three weeks,” he commented.

  “You know, I noticed that,” she retorted wryly, taking the sherry to the kitchen.

  “I’ll take your coat, sir,” said Gabe, who hung Joe’s coat in the closet. “I think you know almost everyone here,” he added, leading Joe into a great room with a soaring ceiling. The lit Christmas tree shed a cheery glow on many guests. Christmas music played softly in the background. “On second thought, I don’t think you’ve met our old master chief, Sebastian León. Sebastian, this is our new commander, Joe Montgomery.”

  A lean, dark-complexioned gentleman leaped from an armchair to extend a hand. “It’s a pleasure, sir,” he said, his grip firm. “I’m almost sorry I retired,” he said in lyrically accented English. “From what I’ve heard, it would have been a pleasure to serve you.”

  “I’ve heard good things about you,” Joe replied honestly. Sebastian León—the Sandman—was a legend in his own time.

  “This is my wife, Leila,” Sebastian said, introducing the slim brunette on the couch, “and my daughter Esme.” The baby was all cheeks and sparkling black eyes. “Her twin brother, Kaspar, is with the senior chief.”

  Joe spied Solomon McGuire sitting cross-legged on the floor, blowing raspberries on a squealing baby’s belly. The vignette of Mako’s gentle interaction with the baby overlaid all of Joe’s assumptions about him, changing his opinion in an instant. Who would have guessed the man had a soft spot?

  “And you met Chief McCaffrey last night,” Gabe added, still playing host.

  Joe sent a nod at the sniper whom he’d released from the team just last night so that he could spend his last four months of his enlistment with the woman he loved. “Sir,” said the ponytailed chief. He removed an arm from around his female companion and tugged her over to meet Joe. “This is Sara,” he said, saying her name with reverence and a western drawl. “She flew in with her son last night, makin’ it the best damn night of my life, sir.”

  A slim woman with blond hair and blue-gray eyes sent him a shy smile. “Thank you so much,” she said, regarding him that same way Penny did—like she could see the real Joe. “You’ve made Chase so happy—and me, too, of course,” she added, blushing.

  From what Joe had heard of her history, the woman deserved to be happy. “Don’t thank me,” he said, feeling undeserving of her gratitude. “Lieutenants Renault and Lindstrom were the ones pushing for his early release.”

  “But you listened to them,” she insisted.

  Her faith in him also made him think of Penny. God, he missed her!

  The doorbell rang and the dog barked, and Gabe went to greet the newest arrivals. “There you are. I was starting to give up on you,” Joe heard him say.

  “It’s my fault we’re late,” sang out a familiar voice. A moment later, Hannah Lindstrom breezed into
the great room in a dark red pantsuit that offset her flame-red hair.

  “You didn’t get a call from the office, did you?” Helen asked her as she carried in a tray of iced Christmas cookies.

  “No, I had a bout of morning sickness,” Hannah announced, “at eight o’clock at night!” she added with disgust.

  “Hey,” Luther chided. “You ruined my surprise. I was going to pass around my stocking present.” He handed Gabe an EPT stick.

  “Damn, son,” Gabe exclaimed. “I thought you two just started trying.”

  Luther shrugged his massive shoulders. “All I did was give it my best shot,” he said with a killer grin.

  With an outraged gasp, Hannah punched him.

  “Ow.”

  “Stop taking all the credit. We’re the ones who have to do all the work, right, Helen?” Hannah snatched a cookie off the tray that Helen passed under her nose.

  “That’s right,” Helen agreed. “It all comes down to female fortitude. You guys are just in it for the ride,” she said, extending the tray to Sebastian and then to Solomon McGuire.

  “What ride?” Gabe grumbled under his breath. “I haven’t had a ride in weeks.”

  Ah, now Joe knew why his XO was grumpy. He felt a grin coming on.

  “Just wait till those sleepless nights hit you,” Leila warned from the couch. “Don’t even try to be heroic, ladies. That four A.M. wake-up has ‘Daddy’ written all over it. Sebastian enjoyed it, didn’t you dear?”

  “I thought the twins would never sleep through the night,” the man replied without actually answering the question.

  “Man, I can’t wait,” said Luther, grabbing his wife. “When are you going to look pregnant, huh?” he asked, rubbing her flat belly.

  “It’s not a genie bottle, honey,” she said, removing his hand. “Oh, Helen, please don’t tell me you made sangria and I can’t drink it.”