by Sarah Monzon
If he could find her, that was.
Adam’s gelled hair gleamed in the tiki torch light by the punch bowl. Time for a little reconnaissance. His target had last been seen with his brother, and Adam had more than a little explaining to do about that fact.
Michael edged the corner of the dance floor and beelined for his older brother. “Where’s Jackie?” He’d wasted too much time as it was with his foolishness. Best get straight to the heart of the matter.
Adam looked over the rim of his clear plastic cup as he took a drink of the pink liquid. “Gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?”
“I mean, she boarded an airplane—”
In a flash, Michael shoved his forearm against Adam’s chest and pushed until his back smacked the blue vinyl siding of the house. “If Mitch lays a finger on her, I swear, Adam—”
“It’s good to see you finally showing some real emotion where Jack is concerned.” Adam didn’t address the pressure at his chest, but he met Michael’s challenging gaze. “You can relax though. She didn’t go back to Maryland.”
“Stop playing with me, Adam.” He let more of his weight bear down between his elbow and wrist. “Where is she?”
One brow rose high on Adam’s forehead, his own test issued. “Are you going to go after her?”
“Yes.” He ground out the word, his patience thinning by the minute.
“Motive.”
“You aren’t a jury I need to convince.”
The other brow matched the first. “Maybe I am.”
“What is going on here?” Their dad approached with crossed arms, his narrowed eyes and flat lips giving his face a pinched look they both were familiar with. “This is your brother’s wedding, and you guys are acting like you’re about to start a bar fight.”
Michael shoved against Adam’s chest before dropping his arm. Tension coiled his muscles, and he shook out his hand to try and release some of it. “I’m looking for Jackie, Dad. Have you see her?”
George turned to Adam. “Didn’t you take her to the airport?” His gaze swept back to Michael. “Really, son, can you blame her? It was as plain as the nose on your face that she loves you, and all you did was sit there like a statue.”
He was wasting time! Didn’t anyone in his family understand the danger she could be in if Mitch got his hands on her? “I’m aware, Dad. That’s why I’m trying to find her. To apologize.” And finally give her the kiss that had been stealing his sleep at night with tortured need.
“Adam?” George waved his hand between his two sons.
“She said she was going to England for a job.”
England. At least she was safe, but did she really feel the need to put an entire ocean between them?
His phone rang, and he was tempted to ignore it, but he still hadn’t heard back about the case against Jackie’s ex-fiancé. The number on his screen illuminated with a Maryland area code.
He pressed the green Accept circle. “This is Michael Carrington.”
“Lieutenant Carrington, this is Lieutenant Commander Spintzer with the judge advocate general’s office. I’m sorry to call you this late and on a weekend, no less. For some reason contact with you fell through the cracks, and I needed to rectify that immediately. We need you to give testimony at Petty Officer First Class Mitchell Stavros’s court martial hearing first thing Monday morning.”
They’d arrested him.
Jackie was no longer within that monster’s grasp.
He couldn’t jump on the next plane to England and convince her he’d finally come to his senses.
Each thought chased the next, sweeping him with a spectrum of emotions, but he had to trust that this was another piece of his life puzzle that God was handing to him to fit into place. Another piece of intel to devise a plan of action.
He gathered the information from the JAG officer before hanging up the call. Two pairs of expectant eyes pinned him to the spot.
“They built a case against her ex and arrested him. I have to testify at his hearing.”
“What about Jack?” Adam asked.
Michael ignored the pull to say she was just another thing that had been within his reach and then yanked away from him. It would be too easy to fall back into that mind frame, but it really wasn’t the truth. He’d prove to Jackie he was ready to fight for her, but his first battle would be waged in a courtroom. Then he could be free to fight for her heart.
Chapter Thirty-Five
France, 1944
Henry rolled the rest of the way off Alice and sat cross-legged like a young boy, a smile to match.
Her wrist throbbed to no end, scrapes and scratches registering their sting as the rest of the adrenaline leeched from her limbs. The man she cared for, had risked her life to save, had nourished the tiniest hope that he’d come to her rescue, sat before her, and yet she couldn’t muster a single reason to allow her lips to bow.
Yes, Henry was alive. Yes, Henry had found her. But he’d also had a secret rendezvous with a SS officer in the middle of a dark wood in occupied France. All evidence pointed to the fact that Henry Caldwell was not the man he’d represented himself to be. He wasn’t dashing or debonair, courageous or brave, honest or loyal. He was a man of the lowliest ilk.
His sky-blue eyes clouded. “You don’t look the least bit happy to see me.”
She wasn’t. Not like this. Tiny pieces of her heart fractured as she realized she cared for the man more than she’d allowed herself to admit. “I saw you.” Behind her back, she scooped a handful of dirt and pebbles. Thrown in his face, the diversion might give her enough of a head start to outrun him.
Lines formed along his wide forehead. “Saw me?” His features smoothed as realization dawned. “Ah. With Rolph no doubt.”
A first-name basis then. Was Henry really a spy and Rolph his German contact?
“I can see the wheels turning in your head, and I can assure you, you have it all wrong.”
Her lips curled. “Do I?”
“Let me explain.” His gaze landed on her arm pressed against her stomach. When he raised his eyes, they held concern. “You’re hurt.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Come. We must get you to a doctor right away.”
As if she’d go anywhere with him now. “I will hear your explanations first, sir.”
His brow quirked. “Sir, is it? And I thought…had hoped…” He shook his head. “No matter.”
“It is a matter, I assure you.”
He looked off in the distance, thoughts apparent in the tightening of his muscles.
Let him be frustrated. She wasn’t exactly having a picnic herself.
When he looked at her again, it was with narrowed eyes directed toward her wrist. “A deal then.”
“What do you propose?”
His eyes raised and pierced her, one side of his mouth tipping up, the other down, as if he both rued and enjoyed her choice of words. “I’m no doctor, but let me examine your injury. While doing so, I promise to reveal to you all that has transpired before and after your ill-conceived though heroic expedition.”
“Fine.” The word tasted bitter on her tongue, and she ground it out through clenched teeth.
He held out his hand palm up, and she begrudgingly placed her splinted arm within his grasp. With great care, he untied the knots she’d made in her ripped camisole and unwound the material. Swollen twice its normal size, her wrist looked grotesque in shades of deep purple and green. It pounded with each beat of her heart, and she feared without the support of Henry’s hand it would have flopped like a scoop of ice cream falling off a sugared cone.
“Can you move it at all?”
Sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth, she tried to move her wrist, then cried out at the rush of agonizing pain.
He rubbed soft small circles over the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb. “I’m afraid it might be broken, and if so, needs to be set and immobilized right away.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them
back. “That is what the splint was for.”
His mouth hardened. “You need a doctor.”
She mirrored his expression. “So be it. As soon as you can offer a believable explanation.”
They faced off in a contest of wills, neither blinking nor backing down.
“It was our deal.”
“So it was.” He rewrapped her arm in silence, his jaw ticking as he formed a knot in the ends of the cloth.
“Henry.” Impatience laced her use of his name, yet still he said not a word.
One final pull and the last knot was tied. “Where does the military get their intelligence, Alice?” he asked with raised brows.
She didn’t care one wit for his condescension, nor for the turn and confirmation of her suspicions. “Spies,” she spat.
“Yes. Spies.” He looked at her meaningfully, but all she could see was the looming form of the SS officer.
In a single motion, he scooped her up off the ground and cradled her against his chest, an arm under her knees, the other behind her back. “Remember the last time I carried you like this?”
His cheeky grin grated her nerves. “I don’t recall.”
“I do. I’ve thought of it many times since. Relished the memory and kindled the hope of a time when I could hold you close again. Your skin is like butter, did you know that? And you smell like wildflowers and honey.”
“Put. Me. Down.” Her muscles went rigid in a vain attempt to distance herself from the luring place in his chest where her head would fit so snugly.
He walked on as if he hadn’t heard her. “I am a journalist, that is true. But I’m also a spy for Her Majesty, the queen. Rolph, the soldier you saw me with, is an informant. He wishes to defect. Can’t stand what the Nazis are doing.” They headed east, stopping their descent down the mountain. “It was Rolph who told me about Germany’s plans, about the panzers and the infiltration. I passed the information on to the general.” Henry’s jaw ticked then, anger radiating off every inch of him. “I never would have believed he’d ignore the threat.” His blue eyes heated when he glanced down at her. “Nor that you’d place yourself in the thick of it all.”
Were his words true? Caution was her first response, but something deeper niggled her spirit. No matter the logic she could call to mind to counter his claims, somehow she knew, in the core of her being, that his story held no guile. Joy burst from the center of her chest with the brightness of a ray of sunlight. She held back her exuberance but settled her cheek along the dip of where his neck and shoulder knit together.
For the first time in days, she felt safe. “How’d you know it was me?”
“Rose sent a coded wire through another spy.” His arms tightened about her, and he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “I’ve never been so scared in all my life.”
The smile that refused to come upon first seeing Henry now emerged on her face in full.
“I’m glad to see my fear amuses you.” Crinkles formed in the skin surrounding his eyes as he looked down at her with a softness in his features.
His full lips drew her attention, and she traced them with her gaze, a delicious knot forming in her center. “The source of your fear is what caused me to smile.”
But the smile that was so full moments before waned until it disappeared altogether with a quickening of breath, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. The intensity of his focus on her mouth felt like a weight. One which parted her lips in anticipation.
“Alice.” He spoke her name with quiet reverence, his breath caressing her tingling lips as the tip of his nose touched hers.
She angled her head and tipped her chin to better receive his kiss, agonizing moments stretching as his mouth hovered above her like a hummingbird to nectar. She breathed in his expelled air, the spicy scent of cloves intoxicating and causing a delightful shiver to run up her spine.
Blessed skin met skin with soft fullness in a kiss so tender it caused her to ache. Her fingers trailed the line of his jaw, then splayed behind his head, urging his mouth to linger. She savored his taste, relished the headiness when his lips moved on hers with unrestrained passion.
His arms constricted around her, crushing her to him. Pressure against her wrist blinded her vision in white-hot brightness, and she yelped against the pain.
Like a shy racehorse from the starting gate, his head reared back, eyes wide with concern. “Did I hurt you?”
“It’s nothing.” Or it would be if he’d kiss her senseless again.
He pressed his lips to her forehead and gentled his hold about her frame.
“You know you can put me down now. I’m not going to run off or anything. You’ve convinced me, quite thoroughly I might add, that you’re not up to anything nefarious.”
“Trying to take a bloke’s enjoyment away again, I see.” A grin to rival Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire Cat curved his mouth. “Remember what I said to you last time.”
“Forgive me for attempting to take away your fun out of life. I only meant to expedite our escape.” She eyed the woods around them. “I’m quite ready to be back on English soil and with my squadron at the ATA.”
Henry set her to the ground, a hand to the small of her back. When she steadied, he reached for her good hand, crisscrossing their fingers. The connection grounded her and kept her mind from wandering to all the things that could go wrong until they were once more among those who fought for justice and equality.
“You can’t go back, Alice.” He spoke as if the words pained him, low and forced from his tongue.
“What do you mean, I can’t go back?”
“To the ATA.” His steps stopped, their connected hands ceasing her forward motion as well and bringing her around to face him. Their heights were equal, gazes matched. The softness to his eyes, compassion written in his pupils as if by tenderness alone he could staunch the blow, caused her heart to sink. “You eavesdropped on a private top-secret meeting with a high-ranking official. Stole a plane from a Royal Air Force base. Dropped an unauthorized bomb in sensitive territory.” His palm cupped the side of her face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“But…without flying…what am…” Her tongue and brain refused to cooperate to make a full sentence. If she couldn’t fly with the ATA, then she had no purpose in England, could no longer contribute to the war effort. She shut her eyes as a sense of failure flooded her from every side.
Oh, how her father would rejoice. Her stomach curdled as she imagined his smug expression when she returned, his haughty opinions and her failure a new weapon in his arsenal to keep her in check. No doubt a long line of rich yet cowardly suitors would be paraded before her, her father’s keen eye and stubborn resolve demanding that she choose, her fate sealed.
Her hand leaped to the base of her throat as another thought dawned. “Am I wanted by the police? Are they going to press charges?”
“I have connections.” His thumb traced her cheekbone. “You won’t be arrested.”
Yet another layer to this man who had stolen her heart. She should voice her thanks, but she found her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A sense of unfairness pulled her down. Hadn’t she done the right thing? Hadn’t her actions saved a number of people? If anyone should have charges pressed against him, it should be the general—because of his lack of intervention, she had been forced to action.
They began walking again, her body going through the movements of putting one foot in front of the other without her mind engaged in the process. “I guess it’s back to America with me then. Perhaps the WASPs have need of another pilot.” The idea should have buoyed her spirits. She’d be flying, doing her part. So why did she still feel as if a precious gift had been ripped from her fingers?
“What if…” Henry cleared his throat. “What if you stayed in England?”
If only she could. “It’s a nice thought, Henry, but without the ATA, what is for me there? I’d have no place to stay, no purpose or avenue to fight for our cause.”
Their f
ingers unlatched, and Alice felt bereft of the connection. She took a few more steps, disappointment and loneliness her new companions. Her only companions.
Where was Henry?
She turned and found him standing straight, eyes blazing.
“What is there for you? Alice, I am there for you. Haven’t you figured out yet that I love you?”
Wonderment and pure delight broke through the blackness of her spirit like the rays of the sun streaking through the forest’s canopy, illuminating the hazy dull of constant shadows.
“Blast it, woman.” His stride ate up the distance between them until he stood before her. His arms wrapped around her middle and anchored her in front of him. Tenderness transformed his fixed gaze and pulled her in. “I love you. Selfish though I may be, I don’t want you to return to America.” He kissed her lips. “Marry me.”
“But—”
Another kiss ceased her protest. When his head lifted, his boyish grin had returned. “Don’t make me drag you off like my Scottish ancestral clansmen to the north.”
“You wouldn’t.”
The challenge raised his brows. He would, and by golly, she wouldn’t be at all upset at the prospect.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Present Day, England
The plane bounced along the tarmac of Heathrow airport before coming to a steady roll. Jack turned her head to try and glimpse a small oval of the world outside, but from her seat dead center of the Boeing 787, it was impossible to see much of anything but heads, shoulders, and screens on backs of the seats.
A flurry of activity erupted when the Fasten Seat Belt sign shut off and the flight attendant thanked the passengers for choosing to fly with them today. Jack scooted back in the seat that had supported her for too many hours and let her head fall forward. No use wading through the bodies. The flight had been long but smooth, and she couldn’t blame the transatlantic journey for the way her stomach sat at her toes. Boarding the plane last minute, with only a quick e-mail to Alice Abbott about the plane’s arrival time, may have been spur of the moment, but it had been the right decision.