Storms of Change

by Radclyffe

  “I’m not interested in your family business anymore.”

  “No? It’s that simple?” Rica gestured with her head toward the living room. “Go sit down. You’re not going to be able to stay upright much longer.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Just do it. I don’t have the patience for your stubbornness right now.”

  Carter grinned. “Okay.”

  Rica pressed her hand to Carter’s back as they moved to the sofa, then sat beside her. “I don’t want to know what you’re going to tell your associates about me or my father. But I know you can’t just walk away. And that’s why I want you to walk out of here and out of my life.”

  Carter rarely believed what people said, because it was easy to tell lies and, after a while, even easier to believe them. For a minute, when they had kissed, she’d thought she’d felt the truth in Rica’s touch. But whatever had been there then, it was gone now, and she owed it to her to go.

  “I’ll go, Rica. And I swear, I won’t hurt you.”

  Rica shook her head and rose, her face a careful mask. As she left the room, she said steadily, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Just go.”

  Carter waited alone in silence until she heard a car pass by slowly on the street and then return a minute later. She went to the front window, looked out, and saw Kevin parked at the curb in his battered Jeep Wrangler. It was going to be a long, bumpy, painful ride home, but she didn’t care. She didn’t feel much of anything any longer except numb. She let herself out and quietly closed the door behind her. She didn’t look back when Kevin pulled away.

  “You look like shit,” Kevin said.

  “Yeah. Thanks. See anything in the neighborhood?” She checked the side mirror and didn’t see a tail.

  “There’s no one watching the house unless they’re sitting in a tree. Been to a doctor?”

  “Yeah. Just bumps and bruises.” Carter pointed. “Slow down up there and pull into that alley behind my car. I think they got my weapon, but we should check again.”

  Kevin parked and got out. “Stay put. I’ll look.”

  A minute later, he slid back in, started the car, and backed out onto Bradford. “Nothing except some old blood on the stairs. I guess that’s yours.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Fuck, Carter. You’re lucky they didn’t kill you. Do you think Pareto is on to you because we pulled Rizzo in? If Allen almost got you killed, I’m gonna—”

  “No. I don’t think it was Pareto. It was Enzo Brassi, and it’s personal. He’s got a thing for Rica, and he’s nuts.”

  “Great. And you’re fucking her.”

  “Easy, Kevin,” Carter said softly.

  He glanced over. “Oh, perfect. She’s really got you messed up.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Carter turned to watch the town disappear, feeling the hollow ache inside her expand until she was nearly choking on the emptiness. “I’m the one who messed it up.”

  “You’re not going to be able to dodge Allen much longer, partner.”

  Carter sighed. “I know.” She eased her seat back and tried to get comfortable. “Jesus, can’t you get a car made for adults?”

  “I didn’t plan on needing an ambulance,” Kevin snapped. He rubbed his face. “Sorry. I’m used to you disappearing, but it’s the first time you’ve ever showed up looking like…you might not have showed up.”

  “They knew what they were doing.” She reached across the narrow space between them and squeezed his forearm. “They didn’t intend to kill me.”

  “Nice. Glad to hear that.” The muscles along the edge of his jaw bunched. “What did they want, do you think?”

  “It was a message to Rica. Don’t cross Enzo, especially for a woman.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  *

  “Do you think she’ll come home in an ambulance?” Bri asked Tory as she hopped up onto the deck. She glanced at her watch. “When do you think she’ll get here?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie. The transport left Germany early this morning, our time. I’m not sure how long it takes for that kind of flight.” Tory had to force herself not to pace. The hours crawled by. She’d gone to the clinic in the morning, knowing that Reese couldn’t possibly arrive before nightfall. Even then, she was always aware in the back of her mind that Reese was on her way home. Home for good, if she had anything to say about it.

  “I know she’s probably not gonna want to see anybody for a while,” Bri said, echoing her father’s gentle warning, “but do you think maybe you could call and let us know she’s home?”

  Smiling, Tory gave Bri a quick hug. “I know that Reese will call you first thing. She’s going to want a report on everything that’s happened while she’s been gone.”

  “I should still plan on running class at the dojo for a while, right?”

  Tory nodded. She hadn’t mentioned to anyone what Reese’s father had said about her injuries. Reese would share what she wanted to. “She’s probably pretty tired, honey. I think it’s a good idea for you to take care of everything there for a while.”

  “No problem.” Bri colored slightly. “I like teaching class.”

  “I can tell.” Tory squeezed her hand. “You’re very good at it too. I enjoy your classes.”

  “Thanks.” Bri stuffed her hands into the pockets of her uniform pants. “Well, I should go, so you can…you know, be alone with Reese.”

  “Come on. I’ll walk you down to your cruiser.”

  Tory watched Bri back out and stood in the driveway watching until the car disappeared. It was eight p.m., and she didn’t think she could stand another night alone. She returned to the deck and stretched out in one of the lounge chairs, watching the sky grow dark, and waiting.

  The crunch of tires brought her bolting awake. She jumped up and nearly fell. She didn’t wear her ankle brace around the house anymore, but her damaged lower leg wasn’t strong enough to tolerate even a normal level of sudden stress. She hissed in a breath and waited a second for the sharp stab of pain to relent, while her heart pounded wildly. Headlights flashed through the trees and shrubs between their rear deck and the driveway, but she couldn’t make out the details of the vehicle. It might be Kate. It could be Bri, too impatient to wait for a phone call. It might be Nelson. Moving quickly but more cautiously, she hastened down the steps. The security lights over the garage came on, illuminating the scene like a movie set.

  A big black car with a small American flag waving on the front fender idled in the drive. She caught a flash of an insignia on the shiny black surface before the rear door opened and obscured it. A man exited the front passenger side and walked around the front of the car toward her, but she didn’t even look at him. It could have been the president of the United States and she would not have cared. She didn’t wait, couldn’t wait, and hurried toward the open rear door. Then, she halted abruptly as Reese slowly climbed out.

  “Hi, baby,” Reese said softly.

  She was in uniform, the desert camos that she’d worn in the picture on Tory’s desk. That was the only similarity between how she looked in that photograph and now. Tory had never seen her so thin. The harsh light from the security lights accentuated the hollow shadows beneath her eyes. A row of black sutures ran across her forehead. Tory knew without asking that the wound was caused by a blow from a rifle butt, and she felt fury like she’d never known. When Reese had been captured, Tory thought she had understood the white-hot rage to kill, but now she knew with absolute certainty that she could kill with a cold clear mind. Somewhere in the depths of her consciousness, she knew she would be frightened by that knowledge later, but not now. Now her wrath only made her tender. She took a slow step, then another, and another until she gently framed Reese’s face and brushed the lightest of kisses over her mouth.

  “Welcome home, darling.”

  Reese curved an arm around Tory’s shoulders and held her against her chest, brushing her cheek against Tory’s hair. “I missed
you so much.”

  Tory curled her arms around Reese’s waist, every motion careful, because she knew she was hurt, but she didn’t know where or how badly. Reese’s heart beat against her breast, something she had missed every day that Reese had been gone. She had managed without her, would have managed for herself and for Reggie for as long as it took, forever if necessary. But without the beat of Reese’s heart steadying her world, she would have bled for eternity missing her. “I’m so glad you’re home. I love you.”

  “I love you,” Reese whispered. She tilted Tory’s chin up with her left hand and kissed her again. “Is the baby here?”

  “Asleep. But you can wake her.”

  Reese smiled. “I can wait awhile.” With her arm still around Tory’s shoulders, Reese turned slightly away to face the man who stood nearby. “I understand you’ve met my partner.”

  Roger Conlon nodded. “Dr. King.”

  “General. Thank you for bringing her home.”

  “She earned it, Doctor.” He started back around the car. “Good night, Colonel. Dr. King.”

  “Sir,” Reese called. “Would you like to come inside?”

  The general hesitated. “Not tonight, Colonel. I need to get back to Washington. There’s a war on.”

  “Some other time, then,” Reese said. She released Tory and saluted with her left hand. “Good night, sir.”

  He returned the salute as he slid into the car. Reese and Tory stepped back a few feet while the car backed out, turned onto Route 6, and disappeared.

  “Let’s get you inside,” Tory said gently. Reese was trembling, and Tory knew that only part of it was the emotion of homecoming. Reese was physically weak, something that Tory found incredibly frightening. “Come inside and hold me.”

  “Oh yeah. That sounds good.” Reese rested her forehead against Tory’s and closed her eyes. “So damn good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Rica poured the last of her wine, set the empty bottle beside her, and sipped without tasting. After preparing a meal that she hadn’t eaten, she’d settled into a lounge chair on the first-floor deck—the one that faced Herring Cove and the beach trail along which she had watched Carter run weeks before. The sunset blazed above the water, a glorious canvas she didn’t see. Now it was dark. The sky was a riot of stars, the air tart enough to sting. Perhaps it was the wine, but she didn’t feel cold. Carter had been gone twelve hours. In those twelve hours, Rica had gone to work and accomplished nothing. She’d come home and tried to go about the daily routine that usually satisfied her. Simply doing things when she wanted, how she wanted, always gave her a comforting sense of control. It also allowed her to live a lie of her own choosing.

  Perhaps coming to Provincetown, opening the gallery, had been the ultimate lie. Self-delusion at its finest—pretending that forsaking her father’s name would somehow make her less a part of who he was, what he was. But she was still her father’s daughter, whether she gave the orders or not. Whether she acknowledged what went on around her or not. And when the ultimate test had come, she had chosen family over everything, including love.

  Carter had been gone twelve hours, and in that time, Rica had tried very hard to convince herself it was for the best. There was no future for them. How could there be? Carter was sworn to destroy the very foundation of Rica’s life. And if she didn’t, that life would destroy her.

  Rica sipped her wine, wondering whether the lies Carter had told her were any worse than the ones she told herself.

  *

  Her arm still around Tory’s shoulders, Reese stopped just inside the door and looked around the living room. The doors to the deck were open, just screens holding out the night. A single light burned under a counter in the kitchen, but she didn’t need light to see every inch of the space. She’d seen it over and over again in her mind, every day that she’d been away—she remembered coming home from work just a few days before Reggie had been born and finding Tory stretched out on the couch, complaining of feeling like a whale and looking so beautiful that Reese had wanted to get down on her knees, press her face to the swell of Tory’s belly, and weep for the miracle within. Sitting in a rocker with Reggie in her arms, watching her suck on a bottle, her blue eyes wide with wonder and promise. The sun slanting in at dawn to illuminate Tory’s face while she slept, an image Reese carried in her heart like a treasured photo. This house sheltered her family, and her family was her heart.

  “Good to be home,” Reese said, her voice still hoarse from the searing heat of the desert and the days without water and the tubes they had put down her throat when they’d cleaned her wounds.

  “Yes.” Tory waited, listening in the silence for the things she knew Reese wouldn’t say.

  “Did the baby walk yet?”

  “No,” Tory said gently. “She’s pulling herself up and she’s teetering for a few seconds, but no forward motion.” She hugged Reese carefully. “She’s waiting for you.”

  Reese pressed her face to Tory’s hair. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “That would be perfect.”

  Upstairs, they paused in the doorway to Reggie’s room. Reese stood at the threshold, listening the way she had listened in the desert for the sound of metal on metal, for the approaching thunder of explosive rounds, for the whir and thump of rotor blades, and finally, for rescue. She listened with all her mind and body to the steady, soft breathing of her daughter as she slept, safe and secure and innocent.

  “She’s a wonder, isn’t she,” Reese murmured.

  “Yes, she is.”

  Inside the bedroom, they stopped by the bed. Earlier in the evening, Tory had turned the sheets down, leaving it open and welcoming, and had switched on a lamp on the dresser. She pressed her palms to Reese’s chest. The stiff, starched material was rough against her skin. The muscles beneath were hard. The heart beneath was wounded. “Can I help you undress?”

  “Yes.” Reese cupped Tory’s face. “Please.”

  A slanted swatch of material above the right breast pocket said Conlon in large block letters. A similar patch above the left breast said U.S. Marine. As if those few words defined her completely. At one time they had. Tory opened the first button, then the next, and the next.

  “How high can you lift your right arm?” Tory asked.

  “About shoulder level, if I go slow.”

  “Then don’t try. We’ll get the left out, and I’ll slide it off.” Tory moved around Reese, first to the left, then behind, then to the right, carefully removing her shirt. Underneath she found an Ace wrap holding bandages in place over Reese’s right shoulder and upper chest. Tory’s stomach clenched, but her voice was steady. “Burns?”

  “Some.” Reese flashed on the blazing Humvee, of running across open ground that seemed endless while bullets snapped around her, of grabbing the unconscious driver and jerking him out of the mangled wreck. Of lying on top of him while the sky ignited into a scorching inferno. She shivered.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.” Reese touched Tory’s hair. It was soft, silky, smoother than anything she could remember touching for weeks. “There was a firefight. It split us up. A ground-to-surface missile took out one of the Humvees. It burned.”

  Tory sat down on the edge of the bed, her legs weak, and quickly covered her reaction by reaching for the button on Reese’s waistband. “That sounds terrifying.”

  Reese looked down, watching Tory open the buttons on her pants. Tory had beautiful hands. Her fingers were narrow and long. She had calluses on her palms from the kayak paddle. Her hands were steady. “Only for a second. Then you’re just too damn busy to think about it.”

  “That’s good, then.” Tory curled her fingers around the thick canvas and rocked the pants down Reese’s hips and let them fall around her ankles. “Sit down, darling. What about your collarbone?”

  The air was alive with shouts and screams and the roar of automatic rifle fire. Flames writhed into the night sky, giant tongues of fury. “I fell. Tripped carrying t
he driver over my shoulder. I took the fall on my right. Hit a rock.”

  “Lift your foot so I can get your boot.” Tory wanted to ask about the driver. Was he—she?—alive? But she was afraid to take Reese somewhere she wasn’t ready to go. Reese was one of the strongest women she’d ever known. Reese would tell her what she could, when she could, and whenever that might be, Tory would listen, no matter how much it made her want to scream and rage. The desert combat boots were dark brown leather—rough rather than shiny—as if the boots had been turned inside out so they wouldn’t reflect beneath the brilliant desert sun. She unlaced first one, then the other, and pulled them off and placed them side by side beneath the bed. “There’s a bandage on your leg.”

  Every breath was like swallowing fire. She managed to get to her feet, despite the stabbing pain in her chest and the scorching agony of the burns. She couldn’t lift the driver but suddenly another Marine materialized beside them and, between the two of them, they dragged the limp body toward the shelter of darkness. She stumbled when her leg buckled.

  “It’s nothing much.” Reese regarded the wound on her thigh. “Bit of shrapnel caught me in the leg.”

  “Did they get it out?”

  The Marine who had come to her aid swore as the projectile lodged in his calf, but he kept running. They both kept running, half carrying their comrade. “Passed through.”

  “Lie back, and I’ll get your briefs off.” She searched Reese’s face. She hadn’t stopped thinking about what some nameless, faceless monsters might have done to Reese in those hours when Reese had been helpless. As a physician, she had been trained to push doubts and uncertainty aside in order to function, but this time she had not been able to completely block the terrible fear. “Okay?”

  There was nowhere to go, no way to reach sanctuary. It had only been a matter of a few minutes before the five of them had been surrounded by three times as many men with more firepower than they could repel. Reese softly kissed Tory. “They threw us in the back of a truck at first, then locked us up in some kind of shack. They didn’t give us food or water and were quick to use a rifle butt. Just the same, they didn’t even want to touch me or the other female Marine. We weren’t clean.”