by A. J. Quinn
“And you think that’s going to be a problem for me?”
Evan leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and took a long, deep breath before finally lifting her gaze back to Tate. “I don’t know. Maybe. All I know is this—everything that’s going on between you and me has the potential of hurting you, and that’s the last thing I want to do. But there’s so much inside me right now, churning, and I don’t know what to do. Every time I close my eyes, I see Khalid. Holding that damn knife of his. Cutting me. And I know one of these times, he’s going to succeed. He’s going to kill me.”
“Evan, no, listen to me. He can’t kill you. You can’t die. They’re just dreams. You’ve got to believe that. Say you believe me.”
“Except that wasn’t a dream in my room tonight. Was it?”
Tate took her time studying Evan’s face and wary expression. Kelsey Grant had warned them Evan’s reintegration into everyday life wouldn’t be easy. But what words could she use to penetrate the kind of fear Evan was feeling? What words would begin to undo all the damage that had been done?
Then she looked at Evan’s face again and all her carefully planned speeches slipped quietly out of her head. “I spent four months believing you were dead.”
“Damn it, Tate, do you think I don’t know that?”
Tate tried not to flinch at the raw hurt evident in Evan’s voice and hated knowing she was adding to her pain, but she stood her ground. Was she doing the right thing? She answered her own question almost immediately with a resounding yes and pressed on. “Then try to understand my life was empty without you in it, and I’ll gladly take you however you are, even with Khalid in the wings coming after you, rather than not have you in my life at all.”
She paused and held Evan’s gaze briefly as she thought about what she was going to say next. What she needed to say. “I know it was a long time ago, but do you remember the night we met?”
For an instant, Evan frowned. But almost as quickly, her expression became wistful. “How could I not?”
“Then perhaps you’ll remember asking me what I thought was going on between us,” Tate recounted softly. “You said you wanted the chance to find out, but you already knew, didn’t you? You knew we had a chance for something special. And then in the letter you left for me—in your just-in-case letter—”
“Oh Jesus.” Evan paled. “I forgot about that damned letter.”
“I haven’t,” Tate said forcefully. “You told me in the letter that you had three regrets. The first was not having made things right with your mother. I’d like to think you’ve already started making those course corrections. Not to say everything is right between you, but at least you’re both trying. As for Alex, he’ll tell you he stopped grieving the moment he was told you were still alive.”
Evan nodded, closing her eyes for an instant. Momentarily retreating as the color slowly returned to her face. “Tate—”
Tate quickly stopped her. “No, let me finish. As to your last regret, I’d like to think you and I are finally in the right place at the right time and we’re being given a chance to find out what’s possible between us. Without my bureau chief sending me dashing off to Tripoli or Tel Aviv chasing some damn story. Or the navy sending you into a war zone on an extended deployment. Or insurgents shooting you down and making you disappear from my life for months.”
“Yes, but—”
“But you need to stick around for that to happen, don’t you think?” She paused as a different thought occurred to her and she felt her heart stop for an instant. It didn’t bear thinking about, unless…“Unless what you’re really trying to do is tell me that’s not what you want anymore. I’m not what you want anymore.”
Evan swore softly and swiftly pressed her fingers against Tate’s lips, effectively silencing her. “Trust me. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you. I may not be sure about much but that much I’m sure of,” she said. “But I don’t think you understand. There’s still Khalid and I’m not sure if you’ve realized it yet…I’m not who I used to be.”
Tate understood how Evan might believe what she was saying. But it didn’t mean she agreed. “We’ll get help to deal with Khalid. As for you not being who you used to be, we’ve both been changed by what happened.”
“I can see that. You never used to argue with me so much in the past.” A ghost of a smile touched Evan’s lips. Then it was gone again, as if Tate had imagined it. “But first and foremost, I need to know you’ll be safe. You and Alex and Nick. You don’t know Khalid. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Tate nodded. “Like I said, we’ll get help.”
“I also need to know what you want, what you can live with. And I need to believe I can give it to you.”
“I can help you with that. We just need to be open with each other. Tell each other how we’re feeling and what we need. We can start by giving you your own room, some space and time to heal, and then see where that takes us.”
“And you’re sure you’ll be okay with that?”
“Oh, Evan, of course I will. I’m not saying I won’t miss sleeping with you, making love with you, or holding you while we sleep. But we’re about so much more, and I see this as simply the next part in your recovery. Short term.”
Evan closed her eyes again, inhaled deeply, and appeared to concentrate on regulating her breathing as a heavy silence settled between them. When her eyes opened, her expression remained sober. “This isn’t going to be easy,” she warned softly. “What I have left may not be enough. Ever. You know that, don’t you?”
Almost weak with relief, Tate released a heartfelt sigh. “I’m not looking for easy.” She met Evan’s gaze head-on. “All I ask is for you to be honest with me and not shut me out. If you do that, I think we can both get through this. It’s worth a chance, Evan. We’re worth a chance.”
Tate could almost hear Evan thinking, weighing her options. But she waited her out, vacillating between doubt and hope, wishing it wasn’t so but knowing she would gladly accept Evan under any terms and conditions.
“What if this doesn’t work?”
“What if it does?”
Evan wrapped her arms around her chest like armor and lapsed into a brief silence before flashing a rueful look. “If we’re seriously talking about trying to make this work…making us work”—she tilted her head to one side as she paused—“then I think you should know the kitchen is not my natural habitat.”
Tate felt some of the tightness in her chest begin to loosen. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? But as it happens, I’m a pretty good cook, and I’m sure, given time, you can learn to make your way in a kitchen without endangering any lives. And if not, well that’s okay too, because you probably come with other talents that will more than compensate for your woeful lack of culinary skills.”
“I can think of one or two.” This time a real smile appeared. “I guess if you’re still willing to take the risk, then we should see where this takes us.”
“Absolutely.” It suddenly became hard to concentrate because Evan’s smile took Tate’s breath away. She leaned closer and touched her lips to a fading bruise on Evan’s face. There was still more to say. Questions she still needed to ask. But they would have to wait. She didn’t think Evan could handle more. And she felt too drained to try.
“You know what else I think?”
“What’s that?”
“I think you’ve had a pretty hellacious night. On top of that, you can barely keep your eyes open. In fact, we’re both exhausted. What do you say we try to get some sleep and pick this up in the morning?”
“Sounds good, but I’m not sure if I can sleep.”
“Try anyway.” Tate stepped back. “I’ll be back before you have a chance to miss me.” She was surprised when she felt Evan reach for her hand, linking their fingers. “Do you need anything before I go?”
Evan swallowed. “Don’t go.”
“I’ll stay with you for as long as you want,” she murmured. “For as long as
you’ll have me.”
Chapter Twenty
Tate held Evan as she slipped into a blessedly dreamless slumber and was holding her still when she awoke two hours later. Turning her head, Evan saw the new day was beginning to break. She had managed to survive the night and knew the horror was receding because of the woman beside her. And not just last night’s.
“What are you thinking?” Tate murmured.
“That I can’t believe you came to Afghanistan and found me.” Evan’s words came out in a tumbled rush. “After so long, I still can’t believe anyone came. But you came. You put it all on the line for me and I don’t know how to begin to thank you.”
Tate gave her a serious, assessing look. “You’ve got to know thanks aren’t necessary.” She reached for Evan’s hand and studied her face for a full ten seconds, as if debating her next words. “But you know we’ve never actually talked about it…about what happened.”
“In Afghanistan? There’s not much to tell.” It was there in her voice. A faint tremor. The faint edge of fear and a hesitation so slight as to be barely noticeable. But if she could hear it, chances were so could Tate. Her suspicions were confirmed when Tate continued.
“Hey, I’m on your side. But I understand this has to be hard for you, especially after everything that happened yesterday. So we don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to.”
She remained quiet for a moment, recognizing the out Tate was giving her if she chose to take it. It would be so easy. “No, it’s okay.” Pushing herself into a sitting position, she considered how much she could share. How much she’d be able to say without getting sick. “I know I owe you some kind of explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Tate corrected. “I’d just like to understand and be able to help if I can.”
Evan shifted uncomfortably. “It’s funny,” she said at last, “because it occurs to me that in all the time you and I have known each other, most of our deep, soul-baring conversations have taken place without the benefit of our actually being in the same room…or in the same country.”
Tate laughed.
But it was the truth. Conversations between them, whether of the soul-baring variety or any other kind, had taken place to a large extent via e-mail, by phone, and sometimes, if they were lucky, by Skype where they could at least see each other. Whether by accident or design, face-to-face time seemed to have been reserved for touching. Kissing. Tasting.
“Would it help if I left the room?”
“No.” Evan reflexively tightened her hold on Tate’s hand, her smile faint. “But I hope you understand. I hope you won’t be too disappointed if there are some things we don’t talk about.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Evan felt herself flush. “Both, I guess.” It was the best she could offer. The only question remaining was whether Tate could live with it.
“I’m good with that,” she said as she reached over and gently twirled a finger in Evan’s hair. “Maybe we can go back to the beginning.”
Evan thought about getting up, moving around. She really didn’t want to be sitting for this conversation. But she knew her leg wouldn’t allow her to pace like she needed to. Frustrated, she leaned back against the pillow and stretched, deliberately not meeting Tate’s eyes. “You want to know about my last flight?”
Tate nodded.
“All right. It was meant to be a straightforward reconnaissance mission, tracking insurgent movement through the mountains. The intel we were gathering was supposed to help map out the various routes being used to transport both insurgents and weapons from Pakistan.” She felt an odd shiver along her spine and straightened her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated by her own recall of events. You can do this, the little voice whispered in her head. You need to do this.
“The reports I saw indicated you got called to support some NATO troops pinned down under heavy fire,” Tate prompted.
“When the call came from control, Deacon and I were the closest available support. They wanted a show of force. Just come in fast and low and loud and drop flares.”
“Shock and awe? Isn’t that what they call it sometimes?”
“Yeah, that’s another name for it.”
“So what went wrong?”
“They…they were waiting. They were counting on someone getting called to provide air support and do what we did.” Evan closed her eyes while the scene replayed in her mind. Just like it had a thousand times before. Each time she prayed the missile would miss her, but each time it turned out exactly the same. The ending never changed.
“They were set up on a break we had to pass to gain access to the valley. And in the blink of an eye, the bastards took down two state-of-the-art military aircraft with some fucking shoulder-launched missiles they bought from a warehouse in Karachi for a few hundred dollars.”
Tate’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying? That it was bullshit luck?”
“Because of their limited range, shoulder-launched missiles are normally more of a threat to low-flying aircraft.”
“You mean like helicopters?”
“Yes, although during Desert Storm, one was used to bring down an F-16. Another brought down a civilian airliner outside Mogadishu. They’re aviation’s dirty little secret. There’s no warning prior to launch and they can’t be effectively jammed after they’re launched. They’re also resistant to most conventional countermeasures. And because we were coming in low, we made it easier for them to target us.”
She swallowed hard on the nausea rising in her throat, took a breath and exhaled unhappily. Tate squeezed her hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Evan said distractedly. “No warning meant there was no time to react and made for a rather ignominious ending to what had been a stellar naval career, don’t you think? Who would have guessed Althea was right when she told me I was throwing my life away by enlisting. Go figure.” She paused, lowered her eyes, and faltered. She felt off balance and acutely conscious of how rapidly her heart had begun to beat. Hammering so hard she was certain Tate could hear it. And maybe she could because almost immediately, she felt Tate’s hand begin to slowly stroke her arm, reassuring and soothing her.
“Your mother couldn’t have been more wrong, Evan,” Tate said softly. “And sometime, I’ll be quite happy to debate the point with you. Why don’t we put it aside for now? Tell me what happened next.”
“I got hit first. The missile struck my starboard wing and I had just enough time to recognize I was in trouble, but not much more. Every warning light in the cockpit suddenly started flashing. But they were warning me about things I already knew.”
“Were you—?”
“Afraid?” Evan shrugged and smiled wanly. “I was losing altitude and I knew I was going to have to punch out. I also had a pretty good idea of what to expect from the terrain below me, so quite frankly, I didn’t rate my chances of survival very high.”
“What about Deacon?”
“He stayed close. He wanted to confirm I made it out and then be in a position to provide the coordinates so a search-and-rescue mission could be launched as quickly as possible.”
“Before you could be captured?”
“Before I froze my ass off,” Evan replied, laughing humorlessly before her smile faded. “But any luck to be had that night was entirely on the other side. Deacon had no chance to communicate anything to anyone before he got hit. Instead, we both got ringside seats and watched our jets light up the night sky like the Fourth of July.”
“Deacon said he landed badly and was in trouble, but you saved him. Even though you were bleeding rather badly.”
“He was my wingman. My friend.” Her voice was dying now, a rasp of a whisper that hurt. “I’d known him since flight school and I wasn’t about to leave him hanging on the side of a mountain without doing everything possible to help him. And he was in no position to help himself.”
“Is that when you were both captured? When you were taken prisoner?”
>
“Yes.”
She shuddered for an instant as she felt a chill pass over her. There had been snow near the mountaintop and she remembered being unbelievably cold. She couldn’t keep her balance, couldn’t seem to stay on her feet, and after using the last remnants of energy to haul Deacon up the side of the mountain, she had pitched forward, too exhausted and numb to care.
The hands that picked her up were rough, but she didn’t protest. She was only vaguely aware they were dragging her across the rocks and snow, bruising her, hurting her, but she wasn’t in any position to protest or complain. She lost all sense of time and direction, and then, mercifully, everything receded and she felt nothing.
Until later, when she found herself wishing she could still feel nothing.
“What did they do to you, Evan?”
Evan shook her head, shuddered out a painful breath, and fought the rising tide of panic that began to set in. Pulling her hand away from Tate, she folded her arms across her chest to hold back the nerves beginning to snake through her once again.
I can make the pain stop, Commander. Just answer the question.
Oh Jesus, she thought and knew she was losing whatever calming distance she’d managed to achieve.
I can also make it worse.
Evan didn’t want to think about it anymore. Tired beyond reason, she was having difficulty focusing on anything. She didn’t want to remember, in fact wanted desperately to forget. She tried to shut down. Tried to find the place that made it all seem bearable.
But it was almost as if when the dam holding everything back had been broken, it had somehow destroyed her ability to escape. Everything she tried failed to work. She remained firmly trapped in reality. And it wasn’t until Tate brushed a finger along her cheek that she realized she was crying.
Silence prevailed, insulating them.
Evan had been staring sightlessly for several minutes, lost in her thoughts, when Tate finally broke the silence. “Do you want to stop?” Her expression was tender, filled with compassion. But then Tate, no doubt, saw straight through her.