Mark (In the Company of Snipers Book 2)

by Irish Winters

“I’d think you would be grateful.” He didn’t look up from his morning newspaper and coffee as he grumbled. “I could’ve selected anyone to attend this conference. Anyone. And they’d be glad to be here, too.”

  Apparently she didn’t merit eye contact either. I am grateful, just not the way you want.

  “From now on, we do everything together. Got it? That means dining, sightseeing, and anything else we might decide to do.” He emphasized the word we again. This time he glared across the table, his cup suspended in his hand. “For all I knew, you could’ve been kidnapped or mugged last night. Did you ever think about that? Did you ever think I might be worried sick while you’re out gallivanting all over town?”

  “I left word with the hotel desk,” she reminded him for the third time. The only thing he was worried sick about was a missed opportunity.

  He looked away, the cup to his lips as he dismissed her reply.

  Libby bit her tongue instead of giving him a piece of her mind. Whatever. She was sick of listening to an adult male’s whining and posturing. Dropping her napkin to her plate, she pushed away from the table.

  “Ready to catch the shuttle?” she asked brightly. It was going to be a long week.

  As they stepped outside, she took one last look at her reflection in the plate glass hotel window. Yesterday she had dressed in slacks to travel, but today she wore her navy blue suit dress with white piping along the collar and the short sleeves. She had chosen well, achieving a crisply professional but still a classy look. Her mother’s pearl earrings finished the ensemble.

  She pinched her cheeks one last time, hoping to add a bit of color to her too pale cheeks. It didn’t help. Swimming had once been her life, but this summer she hadn’t spent any time in the sun, much less the water, and it showed. She frowned at her pallor, promising herself a long weekend at her parents, and some sun at the lake the first chance she got.

  The shuttle whisked them across the Potomac, toward the National Cathedral in western Washington D.C., and on to the hotel where the medical conference was being held. She couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t stayed at this hotel instead of the one so far away in Crystal City. It would have made better sense, but maybe there wasn’t room. Oh well.

  She brushed the thought away as all the sights she wouldn’t have time to appreciate flew past her window. I am missing so much!

  Tucked away in what looked like an older part of the city, this hotel boasted a nearby garden bordered by a dark green hedge and full of ornamental trees, a fountain and bushes. She made a mental note to at least visit that garden – hopefully without what’s-his-name grouching at her.

  The beginning conference was way over her inexperienced head. Infectious Diseases was a topic she was interested in, but with all the unfamiliar terminology and acronyms, it seemed the instructor spoke a different language. Clearly, he had no business being at this course. Libby was a novice among experts, but she was determined, so she made a list in her notebook of every term she didn’t recognize. Amidst all the handouts and preliminary notes, she highlighted questions and procedures she didn’t understand. If nothing else, this class in the deep end of the medical pool had created a flood of questions she was excited to learn the answers to.

  Libby smiled to herself. Marcy was right. She should be thankful. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to network and hobnob with some of the brightest in her field. It also made her reconsider her goal of nursing. Maybe I should become a doctor? I’m smart enough. I could do it.

  Of course, she could have easily asked Dr. Clements for help, but that would have been like giving the devil a toehold and saying, “Come on in.” Even a simple question would stroke his humongous ego. She took more notes.

  At noon, he zeroed in on her again. Instead of joining new friends and meeting more people, she found her presence expected at his table with a tray of food already selected for their lunch.

  Her blood pressure spiked at his presumption. His arrogance! The man was unreal. She couldn’t bring herself to sit despite the charming smile to his handsome, treacherous face. The time for being nice was long gone. Libby gritted her teeth.

  “I’m not eating with you,” she said, her voice low and steady. There was no need to make a scene. She could make herself perfectly clear without throwing the tray of food at him like she wanted to. “I came here for the conference. Not you.”

  “Sit.” He nodded toward the chair, his lips pursed and tight. The charm was gone. She’d made him mad. Too bad.

  “No.” Libby straightened. “I’ll meet you at the airport for the flight home. Until then, you need to stay away from me, is that understood?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer. Pivoting on her heel, she walked away. She’d probably be flunked out of nursing school now, but good old Dirk needed to know once and for all where he stood. Hints certainly hadn’t worked.

  Once outside of the hotel, she evaluated her new predicament. Dirk might never speak to her again, but he wouldn’t flunk her, would he? Blowing out a deep breath to steady her nerves, she shook her head at that notion. She knew plenty of other teachers and department heads at the College of Nursing. Her academic reputation was stellar. No. She didn’t have anything to worry about. If anything, she felt relieved for finally standing up to him.

  I should have done that weeks ago.

  Fortunately, she had exited through the backdoors of the hotel, just across the parking lot from a vine covered arbor that seemed to invite her into the garden. With a sigh of relief, she accepted the invitation and was soon inside the comfort of ornamental bushes, trees colored with autumn splendor, and the peace of nature. She checked her watch to mark how much time before the next session started.

  Regret for not being able to tour the monuments and historical sights panged her. So many tantalizing views had beckoned from every window. She wished she were twins, one to attend the conference, the other to play. For now, this secluded garden would have to do.

  “Work now. Play later,” she reminded herself as she investigated the delightful retreat.

  Those words made her smile. The last time she had done anything resembling play was the night she’d pushed Mark off the raft. That was fun. He had such a cute I-can’t-believe-you’re-doing-this light in his eye when he went overboard. Although he had never said it, she could tell he’d been annoyed that she had gotten his shoes wet. Silly man. What did he think would happen at a lake?

  Even now she didn’t know why she did that. It seemed the only way to break the walking-on-eggshells feeling that had sprung up between them since Jonathan’s death. She shouldn’t have reacted so badly to that news. All of her dreams came to a screeching halt that morning. It might not have happened the way Jonathan intended, but it happened just the same. He had no intention of coming back. Mark brought more than bad news that day. He’d brought the truth.

  Libby cringed. Her real dilemma began that night at the lake with Mark. While she poured her heart out, he had made real good excuses for Jonathan’s shortcomings. He’d also listened, another trait unique to Mark.

  Poor guy. Did he have to walk around in soggy dress shoes the rest of the week just because of her confused state of mind? And what about his clothes? There was something sexy about a man in wet clothes, especially after he took his shirt off. A half-naked man who actually listened? Yikes. She was in trouble. A man didn’t get any hotter than that.

  But none of it mattered. He hadn’t answered her e-mail and was probably too busy with his exciting new job. She had another year and a half of schooling. After that, she would return to Spencer, maybe get a nursing job at the nearby Marshfield Clinic and settle down like all of her girlfriends. She would find someone to marry, probably have a half-dozen kids, and—

  Ugh! How depressing!

  Worse, she and Mark lived in two different worlds. They would never meet again. He didn’t even know that he had broken her heart simply because he left. How unfair was that?

  She relived the memory
as she strolled through the garden, taking in sights of the late summer roses against a background of tall, russet-colored ferns. He’d come out to the farm to say goodbye and to thank her parents for the kind way they had treated him. Faith and Marie were moping around, still hopeful he would look at them like they weren’t just friends. He promised to write Faith. After all, she’d given him a box of stationary. He had to say something.

  Silly Faith might have thought she’d set a clever feminine trap with that gift, but Mark had kindly deflected the hint when he told her he wasn’t much of a letter writer. She shouldn’t hold her breath.

  Like a coward, Libby had stood behind the kitchen door, listening to the small talk. Hiding. Afraid what she might see in his eyes.

  Before long, he said he really needed to get on the road. She listened to another round of goodbyes and knew exactly the moment when her mother and sisters hugged him one last time. Her father told him he was always welcome. Don’t be a stranger.

  Mark promised to keep in touch.

  Libby gathered her wits, sucked up a shred of courage, and stepped out of the kitchen just as her father closed the front door. Mark was gone.

  She panicked. In a rush, she nearly pulled the door off its hinges.

  What have I done? I need to at least say goodbye.

  He stood at the bottom of the steps, his head turned toward the barn like he was looking for something. Or someone. The moment he turned and saw her, his eyes lit up. The thunder in her heart at his gentle smile took her by surprise. He looked so genuinely happy.

  “Wait. I … I,” she’d stammered, not sure what to say to the man who had told her Jonathan was dead.

  “I was hoping you’d show up.” His tender words cajoled.

  “I was just ….” Flustered, she couldn’t come up with anything that sounded even remotely authentic. What? I was hiding? Scared? Just suddenly aware that I care about you a lot more than I should? It took all her willpower not to run to him, bowl him over, kiss the daylights out of him and make him promise he would return.

  “I have a flight out of O’Hare this afternoon.” He offered his hand when she came down the steps.

  Libby nodded. Of course she knew. The kitchen door wasn’t that thick.

  “I just ....” With a lump in her throat, she couldn’t speak. Shaking like a leaf, she took his hand and joined him at his car door. “Have a safe flight.”

  I don’t want you to leave.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He squeezed her hand, his eyes so full of the unsaid. “I intend to.”

  “Do you have to go back ... over there?” She stalled, her fingers itching to hold onto him.

  Do you really have to go so soon? Can’t you stay?

  “Do you mean Afghanistan?” he’d asked. “No. I’m too short for an overseas assignment. I’ll out-process from the Corps in a couple weeks and start my new job. I’ll be stateside from now on.”

  “Where?” He had to catch a flight, but her mouth kept asking questions.

  Please don’t go. We need to talk. There’s so much I have to tell you. Still so much I don’t know about you.

  “East Coast. I’ll be working for a company called The TEAM. Guess it’s one of the best jobs around for a guy like me.”

  A guy like him? A caring, wonderful, handsome guy like him? What kind of a job is this?

  “Will you ….” She paused. She didn’t want to sound needy like Faith. “Will you email me or something and let me know you made it home?”

  “I will.” He still held her hand, his fingers clenching hers like he might ask her to dance at any moment. She would have. On the lawn. In the barn. Anywhere, as long as it was with him. “Will you be okay now, Libby?”

  Ahh, she loved the way her name sounded on his lips, so much like a prayer. She’d nodded then because she couldn’t speak, but her heart cried, ‘No. Not if you leave me, too. I’ll never be okay.’

  “You’ll make a very good nurse. I have faith in you.”

  The knot in her throat tightened. Her feelings had been tender that June morning. If he would’ve tugged her even one millimeter closer, she would have jumped into his arms and buried herself there. She’d have made a fool of herself yet one more time. It was probably a good thing that he’d only squeezed her fingers and let her go.

  She had to bite her lip to keep from crying. He had seen enough of her tears. She tried to be strong, but even now, remembering hurt.

  Her lip hurt, too.

  Twelve

  Healing takes time.

  Libby knew better. That’s all this emotional bond with Mark was about. He represented a happier time, nothing more. She took another deep breath and enjoyed where she was today. This garden was a beautiful place to heal.

  She pushed up on tiptoes to reach a flowering branch of dark magenta flowers. Despite the late season, the tree was full of blossoms. She had barely inhaled when, seemingly out of nowhere, Dr. Clements was behind her. She hadn’t heard a footstep. It happened so fast.

  “May I help?” He pulled the branch down, which would have been nice, but his hand rested too quickly on the small of her back.

  She spun around startled that she wasn’t alone. That put her directly in his arms. He reciprocated as if she had done that intentionally, pulling her close. Indignation clutched her throat.

  “No!” She stepped back, away from him.

  “Come on, Libby,” he coaxed, one hand on her wrist, the other bending the branch closer. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m just here to help.”

  There was something creepy about his choice of words.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, but I meant what I said.” She took another step to distance herself from him. He let the branch go.

  “Your hair smells better than those flowers any day.” He took a step toward her, not acknowledging he’d heard her. “They’re crepe myrtle by the way. Lovely, aren’t they?”

  Apprehension slithered through her mind. “I’m going back inside. I want to be in my seat before the next session starts.”

  “I know what I’d like to do.” Despite his insinuating words, he removed his hand from her wrist. “But, have it your way.”

  Instantly, she brushed the sensation of his touch away. Goosebumps wiggled across her shoulders. What was it about this guy? Weren’t doctors supposed to be smart? Didn’t he understand English?

  “Come on then. I’ll walk you to class.” He was saying all the right words, but he had her backed into a corner of bushes and trees. “After you.” He made a polite flourish for her to walk ahead.

  She quelled the rising panic that clutched her throat. This man was her department head. He was safe. Responsible. Trustworthy. He wouldn’t hurt her, would he? All of her internal alarms were blaring at her to run. When she turned her body to step around him, he grabbed her wrist and spun her back into his arms.

  “Not so fast.”

  With his breath in her face, she turned away. “Listen—”

  “No. You listen.” The man moved fast. With one hand fisted in her hair and another at her back, he jerked her head until she had no choice but to look up at him. “You got away from me once, but don’t think you can avoid me every night. And what’s this bullshit about not being good enough to eat with me? What? You don’t think every one saw that?” he hissed.

  “Let me go,” she breathed, her heart pounding in her ears. All that nice men’s cologne didn’t smell so nice with terror clutching her throat.

  He towered over her. “Listen, and listen well. I can make you, or I can break you. Remember that the next time you decide to take off on your own for a little late night rendezvous with God knows who. I didn’t come all this way to spend my nights alone.”

  She gasped, his threat clear. “You – you can’t do this.”

  “Oh, little girl, you have no idea what I can do.” His eyes narrowed as he inhaled deeply. “You smell better than these flowers, and I intend on collecting. If I can’t have you at night ….”


  His threat hung between them.

  Writhing to pull away, all she managed was to give him a better handhold. With her hair twisted in his fingers, and her hands sandwiched between them, she was trapped. He pulled her closer.

  “Stop it.” She squirmed, but he responded by pushing his body into hers. Desperately, she scanned her surroundings. There was no one else around. In the process of retreating from him, she had stepped beyond the view of the windows, deep within the cover of the very bushes and trees she’d come outside to admire. The fear of her predicament rocked her. No one could see. No one would know. No one would help.

  With a growl, he bent her backwards, his free hand inching her dress up with his fingers.

  “Let me go!” she cried.

  “Come on, Libby.” He moved in for a kiss. “Call me Dirk again.”

  “I’ll scream.”

  His hand clamped over her mouth. With a sharp jerk, he pulled her head back. Salacious eyes glittered over her face and down her neck to the v-neck collar to her dress suit. “Of all my nurses, you’re the biggest tease. I’ve dreamed of you for weeks now. Come on. Fight me. Scream for me. That’s what I—”

  “I think the lady said no.” A deep male voice boomed directly behind them.

  Instantly, Dirk pressed her face into his chest. She couldn’t speak with her mouth mashed against his suit jacket, but she squirmed with everything she had. At last, she glimpsed the bearded man who had spoken. Dressed in a black top and fatigues, he stood within arm’s reach, almost close enough to help. Dark glasses masked his eyes.

  Dirk clamped his hand tighter over her mouth.

  She tried to bite him, but managed nothing more than a muffled growl.

  “Shut up,” he snarled.

  That second of breathing room was all she needed. With a shove, she was loose. Libby darted behind the stranger, smoothing her dress down over her thighs as she trembled.

  He reached a steadying hand to her arm. “Is this man bothering you, ma’am?”

  “No. We were in the middle of a silly lover’s spat until you butted in.” Dirk waved the stranger off.