Memories flooded back of when he’d recognized a simple problem with her old Dodge sedan three years ago. She’d acted like the sun and moon set on him because he’d fixed the wee issue. At the time his ego had soaked it up like the proverbial sponge.
“Doesn’t matter what I can do. The team came back to Bagram one day…just making our way through until we could rotate out to the UK. I was a sergeant at the time. Anyway, there was this Lance Corporal Brody. He was an excellent medic, and I admired his skill. I saw him treat wounded on more than one occasion. Until this one night. One night he did the most fucked-up thing, that to this day I can’t get it out of my head.”
He stopped, remembering the pain both physical and mental that had occurred because of that night.
“Ian?” her soft voice questioned.
He glanced up but didn’t meet her eyes for more than a second. “Sorry. Brody was young but not wild. He didn’t fuck around a lot or get into trouble. None of us really did, but he was particularly clean-cut and straight-laced. Everything spit-shined and as it should be with him. He called his parents as often as he could. But he was always cool.”
“Not friendly?”
“Not friendly but not unfriendly. He always seemed happy to do his work, but I felt like there was something…missing with him.”
“Missing?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it, and if I’d brought it up to the other men they would have thought I was mental. It bothered me that I couldn’t verbalize it.” He put one hand to his stomach. “It was gut instinct. When I looked at his eyes, it always creeped me out.” He rubbed his hands together, growing tenser as he told the story. “That night there was an attack on the base by insurgents while my team was eating at the dining hall. We were there with a few civilians and American troops in the mix.” He closed his eyes and remembered the scene. “I was eating this God-awful spaghetti. The sirens went crazy and everyone began to retreat to the bunkers. When we got to the bunker I realized Brody wasn’t with us. Everyone said he obviously went into another bunker. He hadn’t.” Damn, how did he describe what had happened next without throwing up? He closed his eyes and tried to settle his heart, which suddenly started to pound. “After the attack stopped, we went looking for him. We walked by this one area where we figured we might find him. He’d been interested in this American Army nurse. We thought maybe he’d be concerned about her and her quarters were close by. Her door was ajar.” Nausea rose in his stomach. He reached for the bottle of water he hadn’t yet finished and took a deep swallow. “We found her dead. Her throat cut.”
Penny gasped. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah. Brody was standing over her body. He had the knife and it was dripping blood. His eyes…he always had these cool gray eyes…there was no remorse in them. None at all. I understood right then what was missing. He wasn’t a human, at least not the type with empathy or a conscience.”
“A sociopath?”
He nodded. “Exactly.” Ian finished the bottle of water and stood. He found the recycle bin against one wall and pitched the bottle there from halfway across the room. The action interrupted the pictures that wanted to assault his mind, that wanted to make him sick to his stomach. When he returned to the seat he continued his story. “Brody wiped the knife on his thigh and shoved it back into its sheath. We were all quiet, just staring at what he’d done to this woman. I was so angry I was shaking and couldn’t say a damned thing. I wanted to take out my weapon and blow him away. Here was another woman brutalized by a man and I hadn’t done a fucking thing to stop it.”
He glanced at her again, and Penny’s face was pale with a type of shock and amazement at what he’d described.
“What happened next?” she asked, her voice soft.
“We could see the woman was dead. One of the other men called for help from the MPs while we all tried to figure out why the hell he’d done it. To say we were disgusted is an understatement.”
“I can imagine.”
“That’s not all. He asked us to help him cover up the murder.”
He saw the question on her face, the dawning horror he might have done exactly that. “You didn’t.”
“You know me better than that, I hope.” He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice.
She reached out and touched his forearm, and the sweetness of her touch served to soothe the beast in him that wanted to rage against what had happened to the woman at the hands of an SAS member.
“Of course I know you better than that. I’m sorry.”
His skin prickled and tingled as she kept her light grip on his forearm. He didn’t know if he could take any more of her softness and understanding. He didn’t like feeling this vulnerable with her.
Shrugging off the feeling, he proceeded with his story. “The other guys were talking to Brody and asking him why he did it and what happened. All Brody did was laugh. He wouldn’t tell us a damned thing. He didn’t try to attack us or get away, but I had my hand on my sidearm. If he’d made a move toward any of the team members I would have shot him. He didn’t beg us to help him cover it up, but he asked. Just once. We outright refused.” Ian’s muscles tensed as he continued. “When the military police got there and took him into custody it created a huge cluster fuck.”
“I’ll bet.” She released his arm. “An SAS member on a base who kills an American…there’s that complication first of all.”
He wanted to touch her and wished she hadn’t removed her gentle grip from his arm. “A diplomatic nightmare. A paperwork nightmare and a literal nightmare for the team. We got a lot of flak about not knowing he was planning to commit murder.”
“Individual team members got flak?”
“Yes. People interrogated us from every angle.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and stared at the floor. “Even if everyone and his brother didn’t grill us, there was suspicion from every quarter.”
“About what?”
“Some thought we all knew he was mental and didn’t turn him in to a shrink. A few people wanted us prosecuted as accessories to murder.” She sat straight up, and when he took in her shocked expression, he wanted to reassure her. “Thankfully cooler heads prevailed.”
“Thank God.”
“Didn’t matter in the long run, because her parents tried to make our lives hell for quite a while before they finally gave up and realized they couldn’t get any criminal or civil suits pinned on us. But they tried for over a year. In the end it sort of worked.”
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes were soft with worry, and he said, “Your father didn’t tell you any of this about me?”
“No. Nothing. All I knew was that you’d been in the Special Air Service and some of your specialties. Nothing else. What has that got to do with what you said a moment ago?”
“Nothing. Her parents and politics wore down the other men on the team. Eventually they returned to Scotland but they both started drinking heavily and left the military as quickly as they were able.”
“Let me guess…you left the military as quickly as you could, too?” she asked.
“Not for another two years, until my enlistment was up, but I think if that incident hadn’t happened, and the pressure that came after it hadn’t happened…I probably would have stayed and made a career out of the military.”
“But you’re such a strong man, Ian. You couldn’t have made it into the SAS if you weren’t. Why didn’t you stay?”
“The SAS doesn’t necessarily train you to shed guilt. I did know something was wrong with Brody, and maybe there was something I could have done to stop him from murdering that woman.”
“That’s crazy, Ian. Of course you couldn’t have done anything to prevent her murder.”
He turned toward her. “Why is it crazy?”
“You thought maybe he was a bit off, but that doesn’t mean you’d have any way of knowing he would murder someone. Talk about beating yourself up. Sounds to me like you have more than enough guilt on your sh
oulders. First you think you’re responsible for someone’s murder and now us being stuck in this bunker. That’s what’s crazy. You’re not responsible for either one.”
He wanted to believe her, and deep in his gut he wished he could agree. They fell silent for a short time before she asked, “My father knew about what happened in Afghanistan?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“Obviously he knows a good soldier when he meets one. You’re not responsible for everyone and everything.”
Her acceptance was like honey on his soul, a balm that tried to repair the damage done to his ego and self-respect. Once more, quiet dropped around them, and part of him wanted to reach out and touch her. To take her in his arms and show Penny what her support meant. Because even if he felt ragged, weak, or out of control, this woman balanced his equilibrium like no one else.
After a moment she spoke again. “Did you ever…”
He felt her hard stare boring a hole into him.
He looked up and saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. “Kill someone?” he asked. “Maybe you don’t want to know that answer.”
She sighed in obvious exasperation. “Yes, I do.”
“You might hate me afterwards.” Maybe he hoped she would. Wouldn’t that make things easier?
“I could never hate you, Ian.”
Her soft words stirred feelings inside him he’d never experienced around another woman. Okay, she wanted honest, she’d get it.
“Yeah. I’ve killed more than one someone. Satisfied?”
She shook her head as she sat up straight. “I just wanted to know.”
“It was war.”
“I understand. I don’t judge you for it.”
Her quiet acceptance stunned him. A lot of women were either vastly turned on by the idea he’d killed, or that he might have killed. How sick was that? When his gaze tangled with Penny’s he felt a punch to the gut that spread outward into crazy arousal. He leaned closer and so did she.
Something hot and exciting stretched between them. Penny’s lips parted and Ian fixated there, wanting to taste her with a hunger that hardened his cock in an instant.
Before he could do something crazy like kiss her, he said, “We’re getting out of here.”
“What?” she asked.
“I’m going to get the lay of the land and make sure it’s safe to leave. If it is, we’ll jump in the SUV and get the hell out of here.”
“No.” Her voice was adamant.
“What do you mean no?”
“Just what I said. It’s too dangerous.”
“It might be, or it might not be. There’s no indication on the video feed that anyone is up there right now. I’m going to check out the area and make sure it’s safe.”
Right. She didn’t look appeased. Instead she appeared ready to hit him over the head with something. So he’d changed direction in the conversation quickly from lust and sex to surviving a mob. He understood why she wanted to hit him. He’d always been damn good at segues and avoiding emotional turmoil.
“Ian MacDaniel, you’re avoiding the issues.”
Shit. Well, that segue didn’t work so well did it?
He stood and went to the table. Quickly he grabbed his vest and strapped it on, shoved his weapon into his holster. In seconds he was ready. “What issues?”
“Everything that’s right in front of us at this minute. What we feel at this moment.”
Yeah, babe. I’m avoiding it all.
“We’ll talk more after I get back. I’ll be gone maybe ten minutes, tops. If I’m gone longer than thirty minutes just stay here and don’t move. Call your father for backup and keep trying until you get through.”
Fear flashed over her face. She stood and went to him. She gently clasped his shoulder. “Ian, please don’t. It’s not safe.”
He cupped her face in one hand. “It’ll be all right.”
“Those guys have to still be out there.”
“We can’t wait here any longer. I’m not going to get dead and leave you alone here.”
He saw her fear morph to anger. “You can’t promise that.”
He cupped her face in both hands. “You just said I’m a tough bastard with an SAS background. Give me a little credit.” She chewed her bottom lip, and, man, he wanted to kiss that mouth. But if he had her taste once more he’d be distracted from the mission. “Remember, I said I’d take care of you.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Keep this door closed.”
She brushed one hand over his chest. “Please be careful. Come back to me.”
“Always.”
Without another word, he checked the video feed again. No sign of the people who’d rushed them or voices indicating anyone was up there. Ready to go, he left without another word. After he heard Penny lock the door behind him, he headed upstairs. His instincts told him to stay on guard. Combat mode was easy for him to switch on, but a niggling suspicion rose inside him and refused to let go. He couldn’t afford complacency because he knew something ugly lurked around the corner even if he didn’t have a damned clue what it was.
Chapter 5
Penny waited five minutes. Ten. She kept checking the video feed, hoping Ian would soon return. Remorse started eating at her. She should have insisted on going with him. God, who was the coward? She was for letting him go alone. She paced the room, her stomach twisting in knots. Ian’s earlier admissions that he’d lay down his life for her and wanted her added to Penny’s turmoil. Knowing he cared that much gave her strength, but also brought her own emotions to full bloom.
Worry. Desire. Confusion. Regret for wasted time.
Her heart beat a hundred times a minute. Or at least it seemed that way as her imagination became her worst enemy. She thought of all the things that could happen to him. She stalked across the room. Time crawled. And crawled.
She tried her cell phone and the ham radio again. No change. No signal, nothing but static. It made sense with the cell phone since cell phone service had been spotty for three months. The ham radio should be working, though.
Finally thirty minutes went by. An urge to leave the bunker rose so powerfully she couldn’t contain it. She knew what she had to do. She wouldn’t sit here anymore and wait. He could need her help. She stuffed her cell phone in her pocket and grabbed her weapon. Even after determining she’d leave the bunker, Penny had to take several deep breaths before she gathered her courage. Her nerves pinged, her breath coming fast, and for a few seconds she’d never experienced more fear in her life than she did right then.
Ian could need you. You have to go out there.
She glanced at her watch. Forty-five minutes had gone by. He must be in trouble.
After checking the monitor and seeing no one in the basement, she opened the door slowly. She waited, listening for any sign of noise. Nothing. She left the room. She eased up the stairs, cognizant with every breath she took that bad guys might be waiting for her upstairs. Fear tightened the muscles in her body. Her heart beat a tattoo in her chest, a relentless echo in her ears that seemed way too loud when combined with the rasp of her breath. Inch by inch she took each step until she reached the top.
No one waited for her there.
Still, she kept on alert. She crept down the hall in tactical mode and looked in each room as she went by to make certain no one lurked inside. She grimaced when she saw the first room, her library with bookshelves. Destroyed. Things tossed around, furniture broken. Moving on, she had to be grateful they hadn’t ravaged every room. She glanced in the kitchen and took in the mess. Paper napkins, plastic plates on the floor, the refrigerator door wide open. That pissed her off. She peeked around the door. All clear. She stepped inside and closed the fridge door. Bastards.
God, Penny. What are you doing? Ian’s life could be in danger and you’re screwing around in the kitchen?
She hurried out into the hallway. When she reached the front door she peeked through the peephole. No sign of anyone on the front steps. She cautiously edged aside the cu
rtain next to the window and scanned the area. She took her time, looking for any sign of Ian. She saw a big SUV out front which had to be his, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Taking a deep breath she opened the front door.
A man stepped in front of her.
With a gasp she came to a halt.
Penny recognized the man in front of her.
Frank Gonzalez.
Not quite as tall as Ian, he was still fit, with a rangy form. His sharp nose and angular features had attracted her at one time, and his dusky tan skin showed wrinkles that made him look older than his thirty-five years. Life had roughened him around the edges since she’d last seen him. In seconds she took in his appearance. He wore a dark denim shirt torn slightly at the right shoulder, baggy jeans, and boots. His gaze was icy blue and cold. He clutched a pistol of some kind in his right hand.
Shock and surprise wore off.
She shoved the door closed, but he stuffed his foot in the way. Before she could move, he rammed full force against the door, hitting her in the side of the face. Pain radiated from her jaw into her neck. Her weapon went flying as she sailed backwards, tripping over a rug and landing on her back. Her head cracked against the hardwood floor. A lightning bolt of pain zipped through her skull. She wavered, weakness stilling her motions. Get up. Get up. She couldn’t, thoughts wavering like heat on tarmac, sluggish and fuzzy. Gun. Where’s my gun?
“Shhh.” She heard Frank’s soft, distinctive baritone near her ear, and felt his body heat close.
She wavered, her senses scattered before the darkness lingering on the edge of her vision threatened to obliterate consciousness. He hovered over her, a sick smile parting his lips. Before she could twitch he held his pistol to the center of her chest. Stark terror punctured like a dagger as she held her breath. No. No. Not now. Not before I can tell Ian what he means to me.
“Wait,” she whispered in a choked voice. “Don’t.”
His smile grew wider. “Why should I wait? You betrayed me with that man. You deserve punishment.”
Though her head still throbbed, her senses started to clear. “What man?”
Darkfall Page 5