His concern seemed so manly coming from a kid wearing nothing but an overlong adult-size T-shirt. Like every night since Lowell’s death, Brice slept in one of his father’s old shirts. Some days she longed to shred those T-shirts, constant reminders of a man she had once loved, but who hadn’t loved her enough to live.
Brice’s T-shirt sported the logo of a regatta Lowell had entered three years ago. The entry fee could have paid last month’s mortgage.
Her son couldn’t give up the security of his father’s clothes. What would he do if they lost their home? She searched for reassuring words to calm a child with too many adult worries. “I’m positive, kiddo.” Liar. “Everything’s fine.”
Brice scratched his knobby knee just below the T-shirt. “If nothing’s wrong, then what’s he doing here?”
Sophie silenced David with a slight shake of her head, then wished she hadn’t turned to him again. He looked too good in khaki shorts and a polo shirt, bared long arms and legs attesting to whipcord strength. Dark hair sprinkled along his skin.
Bristle over strength, like the man.
She remembered well the comfort those strong arms could offer. That didn’t mean he wanted to be her on-call bodyguard.
“Mom?” Brice stepped between Sophie and David, turning sideways, putting more distance between the couple.
“Oh.” Sophie slid her gaze back to her son. “We had a prowler outside. He’s gone now.” Cupping Brice’s shoulder, she gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Just to be safe, I called David, uh, Major Berg to help me look around until I can fill out a police report. Would you mind knocking on Nanny’s door so I can talk to her?”
David waited until her son left the room before he pinned Sophie with a determined stare. “Maybe you should pack a few things and stay somewhere else.”
Sophie bridled at his take-charge attitude. Asking for help didn’t signify an abdication of her own responsibilities, damn it.
She added another step to the space between them. “I think that’s a little premature. I should hear what the police have to say first.”
A siren wailed lowly in the distance.
David scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “And there they are. About damn time.”
“Then you can leave now. I’ve got this.” Sophie could still feel the heat of his touch on her shoulder from when he’d comforted her in her office. A deeper ache settled in her stomach, tingling lower still, making her want his hands on her again—without the barrier of clothes.
“Or I can wait for you to finish up.” His stubborn jaw jutted.
And no matter how much she wanted to argue with him, she had to think smart and use the resources available to her. She had to know if someone had targeted her house in particular. If so, had that person been staking out her place the whole time? Had someone been watching her in order to slip in during the only time this evening when she’d been away from the house?
She hugged herself tighter against the chill seeping all the way to her bones and tried not to think about the warmth of David’s touch.
FIVE
Stifling a yawn, David watched the patrol car pull out of Sophie’s driveway. It was pushing three in the morning and he had to work in a few hours. But he wasn’t leaving until he had her buttoned up tight in her house.
What a night.
Prints had been lifted, casts made of the footprints. Nothing more could be done for now. Sophie didn’t see any reason to leave the house, and David couldn’t come up with a concrete reason to make her change her mind.
He stretched his arms over his head and worked the kink out of his neck. At least he didn’t have to field angry calls from Leslie about a late-nighter at the base. Their marriage had collapsed under the pressure of his job—no great surprise since military service members checked in with one of the highest divorce rates in the country. The Berg union was merely one more sad statistic.
As downright pissed as he got with Leslie, he knew the breakup had hurt her as well. He never should have married anyone, and she’d been so young. Too young. She’d been overwhelmed by the stress of being a military wife with a kid and another on the way.
But how could he regret something that had resulted in Haley Rose? And as much as it hurt like hell not to see Hunter, David wouldn’t trade the time they’d had as a family for anything.
The divorce had been messy, no question. But once he’d accepted Leslie wasn’t coming home and only wanted enough money to start over, he’d written the check without a wince. Leslie’s decision that he would be the better parent for Haley Rose had filled him with an almost nauseating relief over not losing his daughter, followed by a crushing grief that Hunter wouldn’t be a part of his life.
Realistically, he understood he needed to make further adjustments for his single-parent status. Increasing hours in the operational test world made serious demands on his time. He couldn’t take advantage of his sister’s help indefinitely.
With his upcoming promotion to lieutenant colonel, he was slated to go to a desk job at the Pentagon. Not exactly his cup of tea, but hell, he would spend more time behind a safe desk and less time away from home. He often wondered if he could have traveled less, if he’d chosen a different career path in the air force, maybe his marriage might have stood a chance.
All regrets aside, he didn’t love Leslie, and she didn’t love him. She managed the part-time-parent role, so Haley Rose still had a mother. What more could he do?
Not repeat his mistakes.
He climbed the steps back up to Sophie’s, his pace slower this time than when he’d bolted up two at a stride to get to her.
David nudged the front door open with his toe and looked around the empty living room. He could hear Sophie in the next room, her husky tones that somehow seemed at odds with her softer appearance.
Her voice lured him. He’d never simply listened to her, the force of their attraction distracting him. Her tone told him far more than her words, its low pitch hinting at a hard-won maturity. Being widowed so young would affect anyone.
David paused by a framed family portrait on the wall displaying toddler-aged Brice sitting on his mother’s lap. Sophie was tucked under the arm of the sandy-haired man behind her as she smiled down at her son.
Murmurs drifted from the kitchen where the women spoke. Sophie’s voice flowed over him, into him. David traced a finger along the frame.
David heard the older woman’s laugh and stepped away from the Campbell family portrait. He needed to make tracks out—now.
“David, is that you?” Sophie called, the husky sound of her catching him in the gut.
“Uh-huh.” He followed her voice into the kitchen. “I’m just finishing up.”
He liked this room better than the rest of her house. School flyers littered the refrigerator. Some kind of school project made out of clay, shells, and pipe cleaners lay half completed on the bar separating the cooking area from the table. White walls and light blue curtains seemed airy rather than sterile like the living room.
A family lived here, making memories.
Nanny stood beside Sophie at the sink, working free the splinters peppering Sophie’s palm. Sophie and her grandmother stood shoulder to shoulder in height. The older woman possessed a birdlike frailty with none of Sophie’s softening curves. A wrist-thick braid twisted in a bun on her head seemed too heavy for her fragile neck to support.
Frustration steamed over him. Two women and a child, alone, without even a rudimentary security system. Apparently living in a gated community hadn’t done shit for keeping her safe.
The older lady glanced up, smiling. “Hello, Major Berg. We sure are lucky you were close enough to call. You’ve been a real godsend.”
Her smile. Sophie had inherited more than her height from Nanny. She also got her smile.
“Glad to help, ma’am. I’ve fixed your lock well enough for the house to be closed off again,” not that the lock had stopped anyone tonight, “but you’ll want to replace it. You should consi
der an alarm of some sort, too.”
“I could,” Sophie said noncommittally.
Because she didn’t see the need? Or was there some other reason? He studied her for clues, some sense of what was going on inside her head, worried as hell about a woman who wasn’t even his to worry about. Sophie stood beside him, her curtain of hair shielding her face. She fidgeted with Brice’s project, something resembling a cross between an ecosystem and a swamp monster.
He dropped a loose pipe cleaner into the bowl with the other arts and crafts supplies. “Or you could stay with my sister until your place is locked down tighter. Madison has plenty of room and a security system.”
“Thanks, but we’re good. I don’t think anyone’s coming back tonight, and I’ll take care of securing the house this afternoon.” Sophie pushed the school project aside. “Nanny will be here to supervise.”
He backed away from the table. “Okay then. Don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thank you again. I hope I didn’t make things too difficult for you to work.” Her eyes went wide. “You aren’t on crew rest, are you?”
Her questions in court rolled over him, the way she’d questioned his professional reputation, insinuated he might be lying. His jaw flexed. “No crew rest. And if I had been, then the flight would have been canceled. That’s how we do things.”
“Of course.” Sophie folded her arms over her chest. “I’m glad I didn’t wreck your schedule.”
She’d wrecked a lot more in his life than robbing him of a few hours’ sleep. He’d fought the attraction to her for so long, he’d thought he had it under control. Wrong. The feelings had just been piling on top of each other, waiting for just the right time to blindside him.
Her touch affected him. Damn it, she affected him, a woman who was hell-bent on taking down his squadron.
He needed to get the hell out of this house.
* * *
Sophie stuck her hand under the faucet, trying to soak the splinters free. The lingering sensation of David’s touch stung more than the slivers of wood.
Still, having him here had helped, something she didn’t like to admit. The break-in unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
He’d handled the immediate crisis, but she couldn’t afford to let herself depend on him for anything long term. Too many other worries crowded her life. Such as how would she afford to have new locks installed? Her stretched budget already screeched in protest over a trip for burgers. But she was trying so hard to hang on to the house to give her son stability.
Nanny bustled around the kitchen with all the subtlety of a freight train. Her wind suit whistled a friction tune. People who saw her grandmother for the first time might mistake her as someone frail and elderly. For two seconds.
How could anyone have this much energy in the middle of the night?
Nanny held Sophie’s hand over the sink and poured peroxide over all the splinter wounds. Sophie relinquished control to her grandmother, not that she really had another choice. Nanny had been her one stable port in a life full of turmoil, her mother figure for all intents and purposes, since Sophie’s father and mother had never married. The result of a backseat teenage tangle, Sophie had grown up with her father and his parents. She considered herself lucky to have had them.
“Nanny, would you like for us to go to a hotel?” She stifled a wince as her grandmother pushed out the largest splinter. “I want you to feel safe.”
“Hotels are pricey, and the money’s better spent on a new dead bolt and security system,” her practical grandma said, tearing off a paper towel and patting Sophie’s hand dry.
“I agree, but I want to be sure. This break-in has me rattled. I would have worried less if he’d stolen things, or come in while I was asleep.” Sophie looked around her house she’d fought so hard to keep so her son would be in the best and safest neighborhood. Not that the place had been all that safe tonight. “But the timing seemed so perfectly targeted for when I would be gone.”
“Then I imagine we should all be extra careful about double-bolting the doors, keeping a cell phone nearby, watching for anyone acting suspicious. With luck, though, the police will come up with something on those fingerprints and we’ll have answers by tomorrow.”
Her grandmother sounded so confident all would be well. She looked at Nanny’s silver braid and thought of all the times she’d crawled onto her grandmother’s lap as a child. Her earliest memories were of clutching that braid and tickling her chin with the end until she drifted off to sleep.
Such a simple solution to chasing away monsters in the night. But she wasn’t a child anymore.
Sophie smoothed a hand over Nanny’s coiled braid. “Are you okay? I wouldn’t dare refer to your age, but this has been a stressful night.”
Nanny grinned, riffling through the contents of a first aid kit. “I’m not moving so slowly I missed seeing what a nice-looking young man that major is.”
This kind of help she did not need. Nanny would have out the Bride magazines if Sophie wasn’t careful. “I’ve told you before. No matchmaking. I am not interested in Major Berg.”
Nanny snorted while working loose another splinter.
“Okay, so I’m interested in him.” She breathed in and out. Hard. A lingering hint of his aftershave sent a fresh shower of sparks through her. “But I’m not ready for a relationship. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for anything serious again.”
Nanny released Sophie’s hand and grasped her chin. “You were a good wife to Lowell. You loved him. You mourned your husband’s death. Now it’s time for you to move forward.”
Sophie wanted to believe her but knew better. “You didn’t, after grandpa died.”
“No one pushed me.” Nanny’s grip pinched. “As much as I love you and Brice, you can’t take the place of having someone, a man, to share my life with. I don’t want to let the same happen to you.”
What was it with the men in her family checking out early? Why couldn’t any of them stick around long enough for gray hairs?
Thoughts of skimming her fingers over the flecks of silver at David’s temples caught her when she was too vulnerable to duck.
Nanny pulled two coffee mugs from the hooks under the cabinet. “Maybe you could just have an affair with him. He does have a damn fine backside.”
If only life were that simple. Sophie clapped a hand over her forehead. “I am not going to discuss that man’s butt with my grandmother.”
“Your grandfather had quite a nice backside.”
“Too much information.” She held up a hand. “Conversation over. I need to catch at least a couple hours’ sleep before I head into work.”
The sobering stakes of the trial grounded her again. Winning her case would send one of his friends to jail and put a professional black mark on David’s record. This wasn’t the time to fantasize. Real life was about harsh realities.
And her reality? She couldn’t afford the distraction of David Berg, but she’d closed off her life from so many people since her husband had died, she wasn’t sure who else to turn to for help.
* * *
David’s footsteps echoed in the cavernous airplane hangar.
Metal beams formed a skeleton overhead, the whole hangar gaping, like walking through the belly of a whale. A busy belly.
Aircraft mechanics crawled over a spindly gray Predator drone—unmanned craft. Three military maintenance guys in camo and two civilian contractors wearing coveralls worked to install a new camera system with upgraded sensors to record ground intelligence. The craft was cracked open—pieces of skin peeled back as they worked to wedge replacement pieces in there.
Work stands lined the walls with pieces of the project laid out. Master Sergeant Mason “Smooth” Randolph hummed along to the radio as he shaved a circular piece down with a metal grinder to make it fit, smooth-eyed the piece, then vaulted back up onto the nose of the Predator.
David itched to jump right in. The familiarity soaked into his pores, revving him up
and soothing him all at once. He loved his job, the thrill of flying the latest gadgets in the military inventory, the mental challenge of creating new technology, testing and tweaking until it could be rolled out.
When it came to toys, his squadron’s rivaled those of James Bond and Batman.
The better the technology, the smaller the human footprint in a deployment. Test projects made a hefty dent in the defense budget, but big picture? What it saved couldn’t be quantified—relationships salvaged, thanks to fewer deployments.
Lives saved by placing fewer people in harm’s way.
And all he had to do to make that happen? Strap his butt into an aircraft no one had flown before. And his squadron didn’t just test new airplanes—like the hypersonic jet a couple of hangars over. They also tested modifications to aircraft already in the inventory—such as the gun turret modification on the AC-130.
He’d even been in on the development of unmanned spy craft the size of insects. Remote control flying those surveillance peepers to gather intelligence was a blast.
And the squadron wasn’t just about pilots but navigators, sensor operators, gunners, and loadmasters—all the different crew positions. They were all aviators, all called to figure out new ways to cheat the laws of gravity.
In the air force, he was a navigator even though he had a civilian pilot’s license, a rating that was tough as hell to find time to keep current, given the demands of his present job overseeing three different test projects at once.
He knew his time here was drawing to a close. He couldn’t keep the kind of hours needed or weeks on the road to other testing ranges across the country. But he’d wanted to leave on his terms, not with this horrific screwup hanging over his head. The thought of that kid injured, a child who would spend the rest of his life with a limp and scar.
Not to mention the horror of being shot when he should have been safest—asleep in his home.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
Sitting on the Predator’s nose, Smooth waved. “Morning, Major. You’re in early. Did you bring coffee?”
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