Barbara's Redemption

by Diane Saxon

  It must be the stress and lack of sleep. She needed far more than one night to catch up.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt the slide of lust, but the man behind the desk had little vibrations of interest sparking her nerve ends. Totally inappropriate under the circumstances.

  He raised one eyebrow and made her aware her study of him was a little too intense. “So, we’ll do this officially, as it’ll all be on record. Could you please tell me your name?”

  She pulled her legs in and jerked upright. She wasn’t yet ready to get down to the official. The uncomfortable curl in her stomach made her want to avoid anything official. Instead she gave him a broad smile. “Betty Boop.”

  One black eyebrow raised as he pursed his mouth. It was a nice mouth, a good mouth. An extraordinarily kissable mouth. She almost shook her head in disbelief. There was no way she should allow herself thoughts along those lines about a man who’d volunteered himself, because of Flynn, to help her. It must be an overload of adrenaline still in her system allowing her brain to fantasize inappropriately.

  “Perhaps the name you were born with, not your stage name.”

  She dragged her attention away from his lips and concentrated on the question he’d asked. The man obviously suffered from a distinct lack of humor. He remained deadpan as he watched and waited for her to answer.

  She gave in and puffed out a breath. “Captain Barbara Lynn Perry.”

  “Date of birth?”

  She scrubbed her fingers across her lips and wished for a glass of whiskey. “April tenth, 1985.”

  “Canadian?”

  “By birth. You’re Irish.”

  “By birth.” His crooked smile tripped her pulse before he glanced down. Perhaps she was mistaken about his humor.

  He flipped a page over in the file in front of him. The silence became heavy as he studied it. When his gaze met hers, she knew what was coming but had no way to stop the sick slide of anticipation clutching her stomach in vicious spasms to churn the food she’d just eaten. “Can you tell me why you went AWOL?”

  “I’m not AWOL. You said so yourself, sir.” Habit had her address him with respect, but she snapped out her answer too quickly and wanted to bite her tongue off for the display of anxiety. He’d managed to unbalance her quicker than she’d thought anyone capable. It was fear… and the handsome face.

  “You don’t have to call me sir, I’m not your commanding officer, and under the circumstances, we can keep this less formal.”

  She leaned back, stretched her legs out in front of her, and crossed them over at the ankle in an attempt to regain her equilibrium. “What should I call you?”

  “Dominic.”

  Just to be awkward, she leaned forward. “Not Nick, Dom, Nicky?”

  “Dominic will do nicely, and I’ll call you Barbie.”

  She slapped back in her chair. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’ll break your neck for you if you call me Barbie again.”

  He studied her for a long moment, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips. Yeah, there was a definite glimmer of humor. He’d certainly already managed to get under her skin.

  “As part of my remit working within this facility, I’ve been given access to your official army records. I have the relevant clearance to deal with this, unlike Flynn, so let me assure you, you’re in the best place possible.” He waited a beat. “We’ll start again. Why was it, when you had official leave, did you feel the need to run, Barbara? To hide?”

  She rubbed her hands together and stopped herself as she realized how the gesture revealed her nerves. She noted from the quick flicker of his gunsmoke eyes he hadn’t missed the movement. She gave a careless shrug. “I’d had enough. I wanted to get away, take time out.” She tried for a flippant attitude but knew it fell far short.

  He dipped his head to study the notes in front of him while the pulse in the base of her throat hammered out an erratic rhythm.

  “You have an exemplary record. Until recently.”

  She gave a brief nod, but he didn’t look up, obviously not expecting any kind of response.

  “Black Hawk pilot.”

  “Yes.”

  “When Flynn contacted you, you were in a state of panic.”

  “I wouldn’t call it panic.”

  “He did.”

  She refused to answer. There was no way she wanted to be labelled, no way she wanted to lose her job, and she was on the fast track to doing just that if this man couldn’t help her.

  “We’d already been contacted, asked if we could help track you down. I believe your commanding officer has concerns about you.” This time when he raised his head and stared at her over the top of his glasses, her blood turned to ice. “You killed someone.”

  Her heart pounded and her ears filled with the sound of a rushing waterfall. “I’ve killed a number of people.” She assumed he referred to the insurgents she’d killed when she saved Flynn, but her mouth dried up in any case. She raised her chin in defiance.

  A beat passed before he ducked his head and allowed her to release the breath she’d been holding.

  Dominic chewed the lower lip of his sexy mouth as he stared at the photographs in her file and flipped over the pages, then back again. She couldn’t quite see the subject matter, but she could imagine. The sound of her own breath drawing through her teeth echoed in the silent room. She needed to control it, make sure he never noticed, but the photos she could just make out were in color, and the dominant theme appeared to be red. She didn’t want to see them. She’d witnessed enough bloodshed in reality. There was no need for it to be waved under her nose for her to inspect.

  Dominic whipped his head up from studying the file. “They were innocent.” He tapped the photographs with his forefinger.

  Her heart wanted to explode. Goddammit, she’d known they were innocent. She’d cried for their innocence. Suffered through lack of sleep and churning guilt while the weight dropped from her body and pain filled her every thought.

  She gave another indolent shrug purely for effect, turned her attention to the window behind Dominic, and studied the long sweep of the facility driveway while her heart pounded in her throat. Fully visible from the kitchen, the view of it out of the study window was to the right; the peaceful green of his garden directly in front. The serene hue washed over her as she tried to block out the image of blood insistent on consuming her mind. She replaced it instead with soothing shades of green and the instinct that ruled her head to assess her best route of escape. It was all she’d done lately. Run. If not physically, then emotionally and mentally.

  The creak of Dominic’s chair drew her attention back to him. He removed one of the photographs from the file, and her breath came in painful gasps to constrict her chest as he pushed it forward for her to look at. She didn’t want to see. She’d seen it before in full exposure. She’d stood over the bloodied and massacred bodies while hot bile had risen in her throat and horror had burned her mind. When she’d run, she’d never given a single thought to the consequences. It had never occurred to her to make a stand. The shock and horror had torn her apart. Shame stabbed at her.

  Regret shimmered through her. If she had stood her ground that day, she wouldn’t be where she was now. Then again, if she’d stood her ground, even more innocents would have died, most likely herself included.

  She nudged the photograph back toward him with one finger. She didn’t need to look at it. She saw it every time she closed her eyes and dreamed about it every night since. “I’m fully conversant with the scenario.”

  His calm gray gaze held hers for a moment. “You want to tell me about it?”

  Despite his soothing tone, she could hardly breathe. She just wanted to get out of there, escape. Run like she’d been running for what seemed like so long, but it had been a mere few days. She suspected if she did, he’d be obliged to let the army know, and that would be the end of her career. A career she still desperately wanted to keep despite the horror of recent circum
stances. She didn’t have PTSD; it was simple shock. She could work her way through that. She’d done it before after the episode with Flynn.

  This was much tougher, the circumstances so very different. She’d been hailed a hero for what she’d done for Flynn. Not so this time. She’d been tarnished with the evilness of what had gone on around her, and the man responsible was determined to pass the buck for what she’d witnessed. She wasn’t running from the event. She was running from Strachan. He was about to have her job, or very possibly from what she’d witnessed, take her life.

  She ran a dry tongue over her lips. “No.” Ashamed of the croak in her voice, Barbara lowered her chin and stared at her linked fingers. “I’m sure you know all about it.”

  “I know what’s in the file. I’ve seen the pictures. I’ve read the report.” She raised her head and looked into his eyes again. Awash with empathy, they seemed sincere enough, but she was damned if she’d trust another soul. Not even one with a sexy mouth and understanding eyes.

  It was hard to ignore the compassion. His calm understanding enticed her to trust.

  Dominic closed the file, leaned his elbows on the desk, and steepled his fingers together. “You want to tell me your version?”

  With a sudden jerk, she shook off the temptation, pushed herself out of the chair, and strode past him to the huge window so she could stare out at the garden. Not so much as a whisper of wind stirred the trees. She heard the creak of his leather chair once again and waited. When there was no sign of any further movement, she let out a quiet breath. “What does it say in the file?”

  Silence.

  She glanced over her shoulder. He’d removed his glasses, turned the swivel chair around to face her, and relaxed back in his chair, hands folded neatly on his flat belly. His head tilted to lean against the headrest.

  “You tell me your version first.”

  “I can’t…” Panic skittered through her belly.

  “Why?”

  She blew out a frustrated breath and turned fully to face him. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because I don’t believe what I see in front of me.”

  “Why?”

  “Sit down, Barbara.” It was less of a command and more of an invitation. As she moved back to lower herself into the chair, he continued. “I’m a psychiatrist. Because of my connection with Flynn, I’ve agreed to look into your case while you’re on leave. It interests me why a perfectly trained, fully competent Black Hawk pilot would apparently, according to this…” he tapped the page, “…go off the rails. Pilots. Coolest of the cool. They don’t break under most circumstances.”

  Anguish twisted her gut. She hadn’t broken. She didn’t need his help.

  “I need to know why you did. Why you ran to Flynn, asked for his help.” He pushed the whole file toward her. “You want to see the write up?” She ignored it and continued to watch the man. If he looked into her brain, he was going to find a whole hell of a mess. He wouldn’t want to cure her; he’d probably want to convict her.

  “What happens when you find out?” She knew her voice was small, pathetic even.

  He gave a tight smile. “It depends. I’ll look at your case. We’ll talk things through and see how I can help you before you re-join your unit.”

  The thick slide of nausea clenched her throat. The last thing she needed was to join her unit. It was probably the most dangerous thing for her to do. Aware she needed to tell someone, she studied Dominic. Could she trust him? “And if you’re not happy with what I tell you?”

  His gaze never flinched. “Then you have to turn yourself in to the army, with no psychological assessment to back up your claim that you’re fine. At best they’ll stop you flying. At worst you’re headed for a discharge or possibly…” he punched his finger onto the file in front of him, “from what’s in this file, they’ll want to question you about murder.”

  She knew that would be his answer, but it didn’t stop the fiery rush spreading from her chest to burst over her skin. She quashed the temptation to surge to her feet again and remained where she was. A fine sheen of sweat trickled down her spine. With a flourish of defiance, she forced herself to smile, raised her eyebrows at him, and gave him attitude. “You think you’re good enough to find the truth?”

  He inclined his Irish devil’s head and chilled her heart. “Without a doubt.”

  With no choice left, she leaned forward and pulled the file toward her, made herself comfortable, and started to read. Indignation rallied with fury, but she hardened her heart and made herself look at the words in front of her, barely noticing as Dominic came to his feet and wandered across his office.

  The quiet snick of the door caught her attention for a moment as she realized she was alone, but then she dipped her head and continued to read. She flipped through the photographs, scanned the documents, and took in every word of the report from the unit’s commanding officer. Bastard that he was, he’d done exactly what she’d expected him to. First the lie. Then the embellishment. She knew he would do it. She’d witnessed the way he’d twisted the truth before. The wariness she felt in his presence had been justified.

  She continued to read, hot indignation scorching her cheeks at the lies he’d written.

  Surprised Dominic hadn’t simply turned her in when he picked her up, she reread the report for flaws. There weren’t any. It was brilliant. So why would Dominic want her version? What made him question the report? Already she knew the man was an enigma. She’d only been his charge for a short while, and apart from his distinctive good looks, there was something about him that appealed to her, drew her in and begged her to trust. She’d fallen asleep in his presence. His calmness stole under her skin and encouraged her to lean on him.

  She couldn’t trust him; she knew she couldn’t. The two people she’d believed she could trust were her brother, who she couldn’t track down, and Flynn. Another bastard. He’d left her to the mercy of the Irishman without a qualm, while he waltzed off with his new wife.

  Strange what effect a woman could have on a man’s head. It wasn’t just their dicks involved as Barbara had found time and again. Their entire brain function, thought processes, emotions, and judgment could be redirected at the flick of skirt, a flash of a pert bosom. She’d used it to her advantage on occasion. Diversion tactics, expose a little flesh, put a bullet through them. It was the tactic she’d employed to save Flynn. The only choice she could have made. It wasn’t rocket science.

  She leaned back, closed her eyes, aware of the effect of the sleepless nights on her system. Just a moment, she’d give herself one minute to relax and clear her mind before Dominic returned, undoubtedly to question her again.

  Liquid brown eyes stared with desperation into hers, the woman’s voice laced with hysteria. “My baby, please lady, my baby.” Barbara’s finger stroked the trigger of her gun as the woman offered her the child.

  The loud report of gunshots split the air, and the woman’s body juddered. Horror and disappointment wreathed her face. The swift bloom of crimson spread across several areas of her body, until the final one appeared dead center of her forehead. Barbara watched as the woman’s knees crumpled under her, and Barbara snatched at the baby just before they hit the ground. Its high pitched wail almost burst her eardrums.

  Chapter Four

  Dominic leaned against the closed door while Zak watched him from where he stood a few steps along the hallway. His bright eyes were hard and cold.

  Dominic’s pulse tripped over itself, and the uneasy feeling he’d had contracted his stomach.

  “Where is he?”

  Zak shook his head.

  Emilio hadn’t been there when they’d arrived shortly before lunch. The main door to the facility was left unsecured, and while Zak went in search of the other man, Dominic had raced upstairs to check on Barbara. A bad feeling burned his gut.

  Fast asleep, her face had been devoid of color, but he’d crept in to give a swift assessment. The pulse at the base of her throa
t had throbbed with a delicate beat to reassure him she was alive; the perfection of her unmarred skin convinced him she was in a deep sleep.

  He’d slipped out on silent feet, leaving the door ajar so the quiet snick of it didn’t disturb her.

  He met Zak’s intent stare. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Zak shook his head. “I’ve no idea, but Emilio’s been acting very strange lately. Why would he leave the facility without contacting us?”

  “You’ve tried his cell?”

  “Sure, it goes straight to voice mail.”

  It didn’t make sense. “Why would he leave a patient alone?”

  Zak gave a jerky shrug. “Because he’s a self-centered dick who thinks of no one but himself.”

  Irritation festered in Dominic’s stomach. “He knows how long it took for us to locate her. I’m trying to win her trust and confidence. What would she have thought if she’d woken and found we’d deserted the place?”

  “You didn’t desert it, Emilio did. He was supposed to be here.”

  “But Barbara didn’t know that. She was already asleep when I left last night.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “We could have lost her again.” Already he felt responsible for the tough little woman who obviously had far more problems than she realized or would admit to. From her reaction so far, if she’d disappeared, she may well have gone AWOL once her leave was over. It was a situation he intended for her to avoid. Where he could give her help, he would.

  Zak’s brows lowered into a deep frown. “I’m going to engage the security cameras, just to be on the safe side. Emilio’s done some weird shit lately, and there’s something about your new recruit I’m not entirely happy about.”

  Inclined to jump to Barbara’s defense, Dominic held back. None of them knew her. He only had Flynn’s word and her impeccable service record to go on, unless he counted the strong gut feeling he had that Barbara may be trying to cover something up. She may well have a problem, but he wasn’t prepared to believe she’d had anything to do with the death of that woman and child as Strachan had so cleverly implied. If Strachan had any evidence, she would have been arrested immediately. As it was, his best shot had been to implicate her. His snide hints that she’d lost control could well cost her the job she’d worked damned hard to get.