by Ronie Kendig
Stone gathered Leif and Range from the back forty, and soon, the entire family had gathered around the fireplace. Canyon eased himself into one of the recliners, perched on the edge with Tala on his knee.
She took one look around the room, at the expectant and anxious expressions, then slumped against his chest. How did he do this, tell his family that this was his daughter? How had Rubart done it—oh yes, with the paternity test. It’d shocked Canyon stupid so he couldn’t object anymore. But that wouldn’t work with his family, especially not his mother. She’d slap him into next week. Then Stone would throw him into the next one for upsetting their mother. But he could feel their gazes, feel their questions … and their condemnation.
Tala fidgeted on his lap, repositioning herself so she laid against his chest in a way that she could look at the others. Then she flipped her head the other direction and burrowed into his hold. Awkwardly, he held her.
“What is her name?” His mom eased closer, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, smoothing a hand along Tala’s brown leg and sandaled foot.
“Tala.” He hadn’t really thought about her full name. “Tala Metcalfe.”
His mom paused.
“Tala’s my daughter.” Man, that sounded hollow. Void of emotion. But there was no other way to say it. “It’s important to me that you believe her birth was legitimate.”
“Why is she just now here with you?”
“She …” Canyon realized to answer that, he’d violate the gag order. “I can’t answer that. But she has no one left to take care of her but me.” He’d gone over and over this, sorting what he could say and what he couldn’t. To his regret, too little could be said of this revelation. “I didn’t even know she existed until yesterday. There’s not much else I can say.”
Unspoken questions peppered the air but no one probed or pushed. They’d been through this before with TK. Instead of drilling him with questions they knew he couldn’t answer, his family did what they did best: rallied. Within a half hour, his mom and sisters had negotiated with Tala to go into the kitchen to get some dinner and dessert, but the round blue eyes never left his for long.
Leif and Range said nothing and did nothing. They’d been too blown away, he guessed. But Stone sat on the edge of the table where their mom sat earlier, watching Canyon.
“The last thing I ever expected or wanted was to be a father.” He felt evil for even saying that, but it was true. And he wrestled with the confession.
“She’s a cute kid, looks Filipino.” Leave it to Stone to play lawyer and dig out the truth without making Canyon break his vow.
Leif grabbed a soda from an end table. “Half Filipino.” He shrugged when Canyon peered up at him. “She has the Metcalfe blues.”
When Leif and Range finally left, Canyon scooted closer to his older brother. “Stone, I think you get it, get what happened. I don’t want the family thinking I had loose morals away from home.”
Right. Like when you slept with Roark on the mission?
Canyon hung his head. “I deserve a lot of things—a lot of bad things for my screwups—but Tala deserves a better father than someone like me.”
“Would her mother agree with that?”
Chesa … He looked away, pained at the thought, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Canyon,” Stone said, taking on that authoritative tone Canyon usually hated. “We all make mistakes. It’s what we do after them that determines our character.” He glanced at Tala. “You seem to be doing your best to take care of the little angel.”
“I don’t know the first thing about being a dad!”
“Who ever does? I didn’t when Jack was born.”
Fists balled, Canyon inched forward some more. “But I’m a soldier, a fighter.” A Class-A screwup. “Not a domestic type. A fighter, Stone.”
Blue eyes resonated with understanding but also with something more. “If she survived what I think she did, she’s a fighter, too. And so was her mother.”
Let’s just hope I don’t kill her like I did her mother.
CHAPTER 36
Walter Reed Army Medical Center,
Washington, D.C.
25 June
You’re not going to drag me here every day, are you?” Though Sydney glared at him, Max shrugged. “Don’t like hospitals.”
“You were in one for Dillon’s birth. And what about this guy?” She rubbed her belly as they stepped into the elevator. “You’ll be there for his birth, too, right?”
The questions weren’t fair. He’d spent plenty of time in sterile chop shops getting patched up. Besides, being there for the birth of his sons was one thing. Being here for someone else’s problems … well, shouldn’t someone else do that?
“Canyon should be doing this.”
Sydney darted him a look. “Don’t you dare say that in front of her. She’s torn up as it is that he hasn’t visited her since they returned—a month!” She punched the button for the fifth floor.
“I ought to drag his sorry butt here.”
“Don’t. It needs to be his doing, not yours.” She scratched her belly. “And remember, she hasn’t said directly that the baby is his.”
“And she hasn’t indirectly said it isn’t.”
Sydney rolled her eyes as the doors whooshed back. “Play nice, Max.”
“Me? Nice?”
In the room, Sydney and Danielle fell into an easy conversation, like the fast friends they’d become. General Lambert rose from his seat and eased himself out of the conversation and toward Max. “Her sister just left a few minutes ago,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to leave her alone. Grab some coffee with me?”
“Sure.” Anything to avoid sitting here like a marble statue while the two women did their girl thing.
As they headed to the family waiting area where four vending machines anchored a wall, Lambert gave Max a backhanded pat. “Heard from the panel regarding Danielle—they’re dropping the charges. Our government is sending teams en masse to check out that facility.”
“The same one they said didn’t exist?”
Lambert chuckled. “Seems our evidence was enough—that and information from an intel source, though nobody will tell me who or what they said.”
“Isn’t that the way the government works?”
“No kidding.” Lambert fed the machine his money, then selected his drink. “Still no word from Midas. I’ll throttle that young man.”
“Get in line.” Max’s growl echoed through the hall but then he paused, considering the Old Man. How’d he know about Danielle and Midas?
“It’s unusual for him. I mean, I know he’s quiet, but this—complete silence and disregard for her well-being—it’s not the same young man who held a gun to my head thinking I sabotaged the mission and Danielle’s life.”
Max couldn’t help but arch his brow. “Held a gun to your head?”
Once the cup dropped into the tray and started filling with the hot brew, Lambert sighed. “When Canyon found me down there, he behaved like a rabid dog. I’d never seen him out of control like that—so angry, volatile. I’d expect that from you, but him?” The Old Man shook his head. “He kept saying he had to get her back, that he’d promised. There was something in his voice, his eyes that told me his determination wasn’t just about the …” He dragged a hand over his face. “He was tormented. I knew something had happened between them, even asked him if he was in love with my—with Danielle.”
Max nodded, quietly refusing the coffee Lambert offered to buy.
Steam rose in a lazy spiral over the insulated paper cup. “What about you? How’d you know about them?” He lifted it as they strolled down the hall.
“Same thing, out of control. When we got him back and he found out she wasn’t with us.” Max shrugged. “He actually punched me.” He made a tss noise and wagged his head. “Stole the chopper.” He folded his arms and slumped against the wall as they waited for Sydney to come out. “Gun to your head … then the guy vanishes into
the night? Doesn’t make sense.”
“Agreed,” Lambert said. “Thanks again for bringing your wife. Danielle has really enjoyed her company and friendship. The doctors are talking of releasing her.”
“Good. Yeah, Sydney likes this stuff, wants to start a group since we’ve got a regular Leave It to Beaver team. Ya know, a wives’ thing.” Max shuddered. Why women wanted to get together and yak, he didn’t know.
Lambert snickered. “That is happening, isn’t it, the men finding their matches. Interesting.” A laugh-snort plied a smile from the Old Man’s face.
Cowboy got his girl on a mission. Now it seemed Canyon had found his girl—but would it work out? The dude crossed some serious lines and shirked duties. A heavy talk was on the horizon.
But when did they have time for sex? That mudslide … the prison. “A lot went wrong on the mission.”
“Indeed.” Worn and tired-looking, the Old Man yawned. “There’s a lot to clean up as well.”
“One thing can’t be cleaned up.”
Lambert shifted. “Danielle’s pregnancy.” He shuffled back down the hall toward her room. “Think he’ll make good on this?”
“If he wants to stay on the team.”
Lambert nodded. “You’re going to—”
“Make him own up? Absolutely. If he doesn’t, I removed him once …”
“The poor guy.”
“Poor guy?!” Indignation chomped through Max. “He—”
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Frogman.” He clicked his tongue. “Hate to say it that coldly, but it’s true. Have you watched the news? Seen what’s upended his life again?”
Max bit back the urge to curse, to say he didn’t care what was happening. But the reeking truth had emblazoned itself over the Old Man’s face. “I live the news.”
Lambert smirked. “Tres Kruces.”
Max nodded, remembering the media blitz over that nightmare. He’d never been so thankful for the integrity of his own team as he—and nearly every man on a spec-ops team—watched the team stripped naked, metaphorically, in front of God and country of their green berets.
His breath caught in his throat. Green Beret. “That was Midas?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “And no. Was he blamed? Yes. Was he guilty?” Lambert ran his hand through his snow-white hair. “I don’t believe so. A witness fought her way here, a survivor from the village. We were exhilarated to have someone counter the sworn testimony against Captain Metcalfe. She told us just about everything …” He let out a long exhale. “But died before providing critical evidence.”
“So, the media got wind of this new witness?”
“We don’t know what tipped them off. But they’re crawling all over it like maggots on a carcass. If you ask me, the timing was a little too convenient. I think Michael Roark may have started the maelstrom. And once again, Canyon is eating cameras and nosy reporters for lunch,” Lambert said.
“I’m surprised the Venezuela stuff hasn’t hit the fan—you sure made that go away fast.”
“I swore I would.”
The door to the room swung open and yanked both men straight.
Sydney’s normally olive complexion bore a pale sheen. “Get the doctor. She’s bleeding.”
Without a word, Lambert rushed down the hall toward the nurse’s station.
“You okay?” Max joined his wife, scowling at her pallor.
With a nervous smile, Sydney nodded. “You know I’m not good with blood.”
He wasn’t convinced that was all that bothered her.
“I better go back in.” She kissed him and slipped back into the room.
The dark door bore a number and a narrow slip of glass. Through it, he saw Sydney standing next to the bed holding Danielle’s hand. Cold air swirled around Max, taunting as he stood alone in the corridor. Stuff like this … this is why he hated hospitals. They made him feel powerless.
Thuds reverberated through the hall, pulling Max’s gaze over his shoulder. Dr. Henderson and the Old Man hurried toward him.
“Have you called Midas?”
“Think he needs to know?” Max unholstered his phone and started dialing.
“I think she needs him.” Lambert stared after the doctor, who disappeared into the room.
Max sent the AHOD text to Canyon, refusing to even talk to the guy. Send an AHOD and he’d show. Tell Canyon he was needed at the hospital, no telling.
Over the next fifteen minutes, several more staffers entered and exited. Some with equipment. Some with scowls and dirty—bloodied—linens. And every time that door opened, cries and sniffles seeped into his awareness.
If there was too much trauma, the doc would send Syd out, right? He’d be considerate, watch out for the other pregnant woman?
Running a hand over his head and down the back of his neck, Max turned in a circle, feeling like he could literally climb the walls. “Come on, Syd … what’s going on in there?”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Lambert mumbled.
“She’s as thickheaded as me. She’d stay there even if she was dead on her feet.” And until she was convinced Danielle could be left alone. Or had fallen asleep. Or … something.
Shoes clicked against the highly waxed floor, drawing his attention to the other end of the hall. Dressed in head-to-toe navy, Range Metcalfe strode toward them with a bouquet of flowers and an elegantly wrapped gift box.
With a low growl, Max rolled his shoulder around and focused on the room. His gut cinched when he realized the curtain about the bed had been drawn. That was a bad sign, right?
“Evening, gentlemen.”
Max’s mood worsened at the all-too-chipper voice of Midas’s brother.
The Old Man shook Metcalfe’s hand. “You might want to come back tomorrow. She’s not feeling well.”
Range’s brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
“Just a bit out of sorts,” Lambert said. “Nothing a little rest won’t cure. I’ll be sure to tell her you came by.” He pointed to the flowers and candy. “Would you like me to deliver them to her?”
“Uh, sure.” Uncertainty marked Range’s reaction.
Down the hall, fast steps echoed through the ward. Max tensed as Canyon jogged around the corner, his face screwed tight.
Range turned. The guy’s shoulders rose several inches. “What’re you doing here?”
Ignoring his brother and breathing hard, Canyon looked at Max. “What’s wrong? Why’d you page me here?”
Lambert put an arm around Range and deliberately led him away from them.
Max seized the distance. “Accountability.”
Shaking his head and trying to take an even breath, Canyon frowned. “Come again?”
“What happened down there, Midas?”
Arms to the side, he shrugged. “What … I thought something was wrong. Am I missing something?”
“You got her pregnant, Midas.”
“What?” Canyon stumbled back. “No. She was raped. Bruzon.”
“She wasn’t. Not this time.” Fiery eyes darkened. “You knew she was pregnant!”
“I … down there, at the base, yeah I saw the lab results. I thought … I thought she was raped and he got her pregnant.”
Max glowered. “You sick puke! That’s why you haven’t been here?”
“No, I haven’t come because … well, it doesn’t matter.” She wasn’t raped?
“You’re right. You failed. And now she’s in there right now bleeding—probably miscarrying your baby.”
Knees buckling, Canyon almost didn’t feel himself falling. He flung a hand out and caught himself. “You … no …” Mouth dry, he pushed his gaze to the door. “Is she okay?”
Max snarled. “Doc’s in there now. We don’t know.”
How … why didn’t she tell him it was his? Call him? Because you haven’t talked to her since returning. A month. It’d been pure hell. Every waking thought filled with her. Every dream serenading her into his life. And then smothered because of his vo
w to Range.
“I want to see her.”
“Midas.”
The wizened voice stilled him as Lambert came toward him. “Let’s wait, shall we, to see what the doctor has to say?”
Hand on the door, Canyon hesitated. What if she didn’t want to see him? Would she even see him? What if she hated him now more than ever? He’d made good on his promise to Range, and it might’ve cost him the only woman he’d ever loved.
Propped against the wall, his hand curled into a fist. “I need to see her.”
“Canyon, son.” The Old Man stepped closer. “Let’s make sure she’s in a condition to receive visitors, hmm?”
Tears stung. Burned. Slipped free thinking of her in there bleeding, possibly hemorrhaging as she lost the baby—their baby.
His eyes snapped closed. What have I done? Agony writhed through his chest. He’d spent the last four weeks holding back, keeping his distance. And she’d never had the chance to tell him. Unacceptable.
He’d abandoned her long enough.
Canyon jerked open the door.
“Midas!”
A woman—Max’s wife—stood against the wall, her stomach round. Her eyes widened as he strode into the room, using long powerful strides. Knowing if he slowed he’d chicken out, he ignored her panicked expression.
She rushed toward him. “Please, she’s already distraught—”
Canyon glared but kept moving.
He came around the edge of the curtain.
Writing on a clipboard, the doctor stood at the foot of the bed.
On her side, Roark lay clutching a ratty tissue. Blotchy red spots covered her face, apparently from heavy crying. Self-loathing took on a new name: Canyon. He’d done this to her. Put her in this position.
Maybe he should leave. Before she saw him. Before he upset her more.
He took a step away.
“Who are you?” The doctor’s voice snapped through the room.
Canyon looked at the doc. Glanced at the bed.
Roark’s gaze collided with his.