Hero of My Heart (The McRae Series, Book 5 - Will)

by Teresa Hill

  As he started slowly creeping toward the wall around the school, he thought maybe he should have written one of those damned letters. He never had before, had always thought they were too creepy. Who would he send it to, anyway? Sam and Rachel? And say what?

  Thanks. I know you tried as hard as you could to help me when I was a kid, and you kept trying all these years. I've never understood why, never truly let you in the way I should have. It wasn't you. It was me. I was just too messed up to let myself be a part of your family. You two are the greatest.

  He had life insurance and a will that left everything he had to the Wounded Warrior Foundation and a battered women's shelter in Ohio that Sam had helped build. Will thought Sam would appreciate that, and the place always needed money.

  That was it, all the preparations Will had ever made before a mission.

  He didn't have any regrets. He loved his job. It was one crazy adrenaline rush after another, working with the best guys ever, doing things hardly anybody ever got to do. They tested themselves physically and mentally day-in, day-out, and a man was judged on nothing but being honest and getting the job done. He'd seen practically the whole world. What could be better than that? He didn't understand why every man on the planet wasn't fighting to get his job. It was that good.

  How could a man who'd done what he had done have regrets?

  But he had close to twenty years in now, and guys his age or a little older had started dropping out with bad knees, wrenched shoulders and backs that couldn't take it anymore. Or, they were sick of being away from their families. Will had started to wonder if maybe there should be something else.

  So far, though, he'd pushed that thought aside and done his job.

  Something else?

  What could that be?

  Thirty-two minutes later, after a little climbing and slithering along, he was in.

  The school was a series of small buildings around an open courtyard and connected by enclosed walkways. Its biggest open space was a wide, windowless foyer in the front hallway with the administrative offices on one side and the library on the other.

  Just as Will had expected, that's where he found the gunmen and the hostages. Long, empty hallways ran in either direction, so anyone coming would be seen quickly and easily, and the hostages were huddled in a small alcove against the closed administration-area doors. That left the library as a vantage point.

  Luckily for Will, it had a high ceiling and unusually high bookshelves. Lying flat on his belly on top of the first bookshelf in the library, he could see the hostages.

  He tried to count gunmen, but they kept coming and going. Five? Maybe six? He couldn't be sure.

  The adult hostages were sitting on the floor, a huddle of bodies crowded into one corner, making a human shield to protect the children. Will couldn't even see them, except for a glimpse here and there between the bodies of the adults.

  Two women, two men, he thought.

  Neither of the women looked young enough to be Amanda Warren. Where was she?

  Will kept watching until he knew the gunmen's routines. He decided which ones looked the most competent—he'd like to take them out first—and which ones scared him because they looked so nervous they might do anything.

  In the huddle, children sobbed every now and then, but were quickly shushed. A couple of the insurgents liked to stir the hostages up by placing a gun to their foreheads. One made a suggestive move toward one of the women, pushing her clothing aside with the muzzle of his gun.

  As the hostages shifted toward that woman, Will thought he got his first glimpse of Amanda. He saw the light-brown hair he'd been told to expect. She looked younger than twenty-six, but she still might be Amanda. The light wasn't great deep in that corner, and she had children draped across her every which way. They looked exhausted, like they'd been scared half to death for as long as they could be, and then collapsed in a heap, clinging to her like she was the only sane thing in the world.

  She clung right back to them, looking dazed and not quite all there, not like a woman who'd kept her head long enough to send the kids in her class off to safety.

  What happened to you, honey? Can you hang on? Give me some time to get you out of here?

  He lingered longer than he should have. It seemed safer—for her—with him inside to see what was going on.

  He wanted to know what had put that vacant, haunted look in Amanda Warren's eyes, kept waiting for something to happen to give him a clue, but nothing did. She stayed in the corner, the kids on top of her, the other adults shielding them all.

  One of the kids tried to hide behind Amanda at one point, and the gunmen started yelling and gesturing with his gun until the kid was visible again. So the gunmen thought the kids were more valuable hostages than the adults? Or maybe that the adults would be more cooperative knowing the kids were always at risk of being shot?

  The adults also seemed to be shielding Amanda, too. He got protecting the kids, but why Amanda?

  Because of what she'd already done in making sure the kids in her classroom escaped?

  Or something else?

  He didn't like the possibilities he was thinking of that would make her coworkers want to be especially protective of her.

  Seeing her like that, it took all the self-control he had not to rush in there and try—recklessly—to end the hostage situation then and there. He wanted to jump down, seemingly from the ceiling, and spray gunfire in the direction of the gunmen, hoping he could take them all out. Then he wanted to pull Amanda Warren into his arms and carry her to safety, her little ragtag group of kids and adults following along behind them.

  It wasn't any kind of a plan. It was foolish and completely reckless. He would not do it.

  But she made him want to.

  And he hated knowing that, in order to save her and the rest of them, he had to leave them on their own now with the gunmen.

  I'll be back, he promised silently. I'll get you out of here or die trying.

  He meant it. He would keep going until she was safe or he was unable to do anything else to get her to safety. Simple as that.

  Creeping back outside, he saw the crowd was much bigger than when he'd left. The whole scene felt so much more volatile. That sixth sense that had served him so well in dangerous situations was screaming at him.

  They had to move soon.

  Every minute he spent outside was another long minute Amanda Warren was in there in danger, and that was eating away at him, too.

  * * *

  Baxter, Ohio

  Seven weeks later

  "I was in the corner in the school, and I felt safe there?" Amanda asked. "So far, remembering anything about being a hostage has frightened me."

  "Relatively safer, I guess. You, the kids and the other teachers were all together. You were in the very back, against the two walls of the corner, and the kids were piled on top of you. It looked like they'd done that thing little kids do when they're scared or tired or both, just drape themselves over you. And the other adults had made a kind of wall around you and the kids, to shield all of you as best they could."

  "So, that's why." One question answered. "I've felt so embarrassed, wanting to hide in the corner like a little kid."

  "Hey, corners are good. A natural defensive position. You've got two walls to guard your back, and the floor beneath you."

  She imagined sitting on the floor, the kids piled on top of her. They all sat on the floor for story time, Amanda included, and the ones beside her would lean in, sometimes lay their heads in her lap, warm, little lumps, feeling happy and safe and that all was right with their world. She hoped she'd helped them feel safe inside the school with the gunmen.

  "You okay?" he asked softly.

  She nodded, trying to pull herself back from that scene in her head, back to Ohio, back to a front porch with the man who saved her.

  "That helps. Thank you. Please think about telling me more. You think I'm strong, remember? I'm strong enough to hear this." She
was almost certain of that. Not quite, but almost. "And surely, I'm strong enough to make this decision for myself."

  He shook his head. "Turning my own words back on me?"

  "I shouldn't, because I loved hearing you say that you think I'm strong—"

  "Ah, honey. You are," he said, in a way that made her glow with sheer pleasure and a little bit of pride, things she hadn't felt since she woke up in the hospital in Germany.

  "So, you'll think about this," she said.

  "I will."

  "And don't go leaving town without saying something to me first. Please?"

  He laughed. "And risk having you hunt me down again?"

  "I would."

  She should have left then. She meant to. But he looked so perfect, strong and calm and able to face anything, and she felt something... A memory? Maybe.

  Of him?

  She looked down at his hands again, thinking about them, about him maybe holding her hand.

  Had he done that?

  Impulse drove her on, and she reached for his hand.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I just... Can I..."

  He looked uncomfortable, like maybe she was going to thank him again or call him a hero, as she slipped one of her hands into his. He was warm to the touch and so solid. At the small connection, she closed her eyes, tried to fully absorb the feeling. Just being here with him, holding her hand, hearing his voice,...

  "I think I felt safe with you," she said, opening her eyes finally.

  He had gone very still, and she'd clearly made him uncomfortable again, because he looked like he was bracing himself for anything else she might say or do.

  And she gave into one more impulse. She rose up on her tiptoes and leaned into him a bit to kiss his cheek. He stood still as a statue beneath the light touch.

  "Thank you for that. For making me feel safe."

  She smiled at him one more time, and then let go of his hand and turned and walked away, leaving him standing on the porch.

  * * *

  Will stood there, frozen, until she got into her car and disappeared around the corner.

  Then he shook his head and swore as he sat down on the porch steps.

  He was so screwed.

  Because he could still feel her small, soft hand tucked into his, her soft lips brushing ever so sweetly against his cheek.

  And that was something he did not need to feel.

  The woman just got to him. She had right from the start, when she was a stranger, and then an incredibly brave woman who'd sacrificed her own safety for the children in her care. It was impossible not to admire her, even to be in awe of her.

  She made him want to be a hero, her hero, despite the fact that it was a label he'd steadfastly rejected his whole career. He was just a man doing a job. But for her, he wanted to be a man who could do anything, fix anything, who could make her feel safe no matter what.

  Will didn't quite know what to make of that.

  He was too much of a loner for that. Women were fine, but he didn't want them to depend on him, to need him. He was looking for a simpler exchange. A little time, a little fun, a little sex, nothing too intense, because at the end of the day, he'd always go back to his job. It didn't leave time for much else. Certainly not for big, heavy commitments. He didn't trust them anyway, so it was good that he didn't want them.

  But a woman like her?

  She wasn't the kind of woman a man walked away from easily.

  And Will always walked away.

  Chapter 6

  Will tried not to think about her, not that he had been doing a good job of that since leaving Buhkai.

  Because he'd known he might see her again if he came back to Ohio, he'd stayed away as long as he could. But as his eye kept giving him fits, he couldn't work, and he was quietly going crazy, Sam had called.

  Sam didn't ask for much from Will.

  Come see us sometimes. Call and let us know you're okay. If you get a day or two off at Christmas or Thanksgiving, there's always a seat at the table for you.

  So, when Sam did ask for a favor, it was hard for Will to say no. And yeah, it seemed like an odd fit, him at the shelter. But their security system sucked, and while it wasn't Will's area of expertise in the teams, he knew a helluva lot more than most people about security systems, and if there was something he didn't know, he had friends he could call and ask. He'd installed bars on all the windows, new and better locks on the doors, kick plates and motion-sensor lights. Anybody in the military could handle paperwork, and he had dealt with a lot of people battling stress and trauma. So there wasn't anything at the shelter he couldn't handle. There wasn't anything in this town he couldn't handle.

  Except Amanda and wanting to see her.

  That little battle was over, because now she'd found him.

  He felt so many conflicting emotions, he couldn't begin to know what they all were. Except he was uneasy. Maybe a bit mad. Probably mostly at himself and the situation, but once he got to Sam and Rachel's Sunday afternoon for a cookout, with these people who kept insisting he was part of the family when he wasn't, he decided he was kind of mad at them, too.

  Someone had told Amanda that Will was in town, and he was pretty sure it was someone at the cookout.

  A damned cookout, in Ohio in January?

  Who did that?

  They were lucky there was no snow on the ground.

  But it was Emma's son's sixth birthday, and he got to pick the meal—family tradition. He wanted hot dogs, half-burned on the grill.

  So here was Sam, grilling outside in January, while most of the family remained inside.

  "What's got you all rattled?" Sam said as Will came outside, which was obviously a mistake.

  "I'm not rattled."

  Not like he had been when Amanda slipped her small, soft hand into his and told him she'd felt safe with him, thanked him for that and then caught him completely unaware when she'd reached up and ever so gently kissed his cheek.

  Jesus.

  She was the sweetest, softest, most innocent thing he'd ever seen, and one of the bravest. He admired the hell out of her.

  He'd heard from her father about how she was doing. He'd heard from Sam, too, and still he'd thought about her and worried and, if he was honest with himself, wanted to see her.

  But he'd stayed away, because that's what her father wanted and because Will wasn't going to make anything harder for her.

  And what had she done?

  Hunted him down, slipped her soft hand into his, then kissed his cheek.

  Will swore under his breath.

  "What's the matter with him?"

  It was Zach asking, the pretty-boy lawyer. Sam's son. Sam's real son.

  Well, real to Sam. He didn't care about the genetics of parenthood. He and Rachel had raised Zach, Emma and Grace, and that was all that mattered to them. They were Sam and Rachel's kids. No question.

  Will was...

  He was something else, even if people pretended otherwise.

  "He claims nothing's the matter," Sam said, obviously not buying it as he took the beer Zach had brought him.

  "Okay, it's just that somebody could have given me a heads-up," Will said.

  "About what?" Sam asked.

  "A certain woman looking for me," Will said.

  Zach laughed. "What did you do?"

  "I didn't do anything."

  "Every time you show up in town, women come looking for you. There's nothing unusual about that," Zach said. "You make one of them mad?"

  "No. Nothing like that. I'm saying, someone could have told me Amanda Warren was looking for me."

  "She found you?" Sam asked, looking concerned finally.

  Will nodded.

  "Oh," Zach said, all razzing gone. They all knew what she'd been through. "How is she?"

  Will shrugged. "As good as could be expected, I guess."

  "Does her father know she came to see you?" Sam asked.

  "Not before she did it, but I suspect I'll hear from him w
hen he finds out."

  "You will," Sam agreed.

  The ambassador was very protective of his daughter, which, granted, he should be. Any man would be, under the circumstances. Will got that. He agreed with everything the man said about Will staying away from her. But still, he was the man who'd saved her life. And she'd hunted him down. What was he supposed to do? Duck and run? No way.

  "I don't even know how she found out I was in town," Will said finally. He studied the two men standing beside him.

  "Not from me," Sam said.

  "Wasn't me," Zach proclaimed.

  "What wasn't you?" Emma asked as she joined the three of them. "It's crazy in there. We invited too many six-year-olds."

  "It wasn't one of us who told Amanda Warren that Will was in town," Zach explained.

  And there it was.

  Emma.

  Her gaze shifted hard and fast to Will. Most people wouldn't have caught it, but Will read faces for a living. He knew instantly.

  "You told her?"

  "I... Will, I'm sorry. I didn't... It was a misunderstanding," Emma said.

  "Why would you tell her that?"

  "I didn't. Not really. Or I didn't mean to. And I'm sorry, but I can't talk about this with you."

  Which made him even madder. "What the hell, Em?"

  She didn't say anything, although she looked like she wanted to, like she was both surprised and worried.

  "It's okay. We've been here before. I can translate for the two of you," Zach said. "We all have jobs that involve confidentiality issues, and this is a small town. We all know a lot of the same people, so this is something we've dealt with before. Will, this is Em's I-can't-talk-to-you-because-she's-a-patient-of-mine face."

  "Shut up, Zach," Emma said.

  "And," Zach said, turning to his sister, "the thing is, she can't ask, but she can't stop you from telling her whatever you want. So, go ahead, talk, because she looks like she really wants to know what Amanda Warren said to you and what you said to her."

  "This does not make it right, and you know it," Emma protested.

  "She showed up at the shelter the other day," Will said. "And I would have appreciated a heads-up that she knew I was in town and was looking for me."