A Forever Kind of Hero

by Marie Ferrarella

  “I don’t blame myself,” he said angrily.

  She didn’t hear his words. She heard something else, something far more basic in his denial. Something she’d endured herself.

  Trying to reach him, she softened her expression. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. You can only help so much, be there so much. If the other person doesn’t want to take it, there’s nothing you can do.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with disgust as he turned away from her.

  “Yes, you do. I wanted to be there for my mother more than anything in the world, but she shut me out. Shut me out because I wasn’t Chad. I wasn’t the child who had been kidnapped from her.”

  Garrett looked at her and saw that it cost her to tell him. She’d drawn him back, not with the touch of her hand, but with what she shared.

  “The fact that there were still two of us at home, needing her, didn’t counterbalance the one who wasn’t. And there was nothing I could do to make it any better for her.”

  Megan took his face between her hands, aching for him, for the lost boy he’d been, who perhaps still lived within the tough-as-nails man he’d become. Very slowly, she brought her lips to his and kissed him. Not with passion and unbridled desire, but with understanding, empathy and another emotion that was far larger than both. One she wouldn’t put a name to because she’d once sworn never to care about anyone else without safeguards in place.

  The sweetness Garrett received, that he tasted in her kiss, undid him more completely than the passion had. His arms closed around her, drawing Megan to him, bringing fire to the kiss and to the night. He lost himself in her, truly lost himself and his pain.

  For a little while.

  The hint of sunlight, struggling to push its way into the room through the grimy window, gave Garrett his first clue that somehow it had gotten to be morning.

  As he blinked to chase away the last remnants of sleep, it suddenly came to him that he had actually fallen asleep. Here, in a crammed cot that was probably meant to accommodate an adolescent boy at best, he’d fallen asleep. Fallen asleep with Megan’s body cradled against his, as if they were two spoons in a drawer.

  He’d slept somewhere else, through most of the night, in a bed that wasn’t his. Garrett wasn’t sure just exactly what that meant. Didn’t know if he wanted to know.

  All he did know was that he should have been up hours ago. Leaning over Megan, he shook her shoulder. “Megan, it’s morning.”

  The voice in Megan’s ear broke apart the wonderful dream she was having. A warm, silken dream that had curled itself around her, culminating in the feel of a man’s arm wrapped around her. Holding her.

  Keeping her safe.

  “Hmm?” The lazy sigh abruptly vanished as she opened her eyes and then bolted upright. “Oh, my God, what time is it?”

  Garrett looked at his watch, then raised his eyes to her. The answer evaporated on a tongue that had gone instantly dry at the sight of her. The blanket had dropped to her waist when she’d sat up. Seeing her, nude and as perfect as anything he’d ever laid eyes on, made him want to make love to her all over again.

  Get a grip, Wichita. She’s just a woman, not a habit.

  The silent admonishment made him realize that he already wanted her to be a habit.

  His habit.

  He turned from her as he put on his clothes, shutting out the sight, if not the desire. Garrett knew if he looked at her, he wouldn’t want to leave this room. Not for a long time.

  “It’s late,” he snapped in reply. “Get your clothes on. We’ve got to get going.”

  His coldness stung. It was worse than any of his earlier displays. Worse, because Megan had thought that they actually shared more than their bodies last night.

  Grabbing her clothes from the floor, Megan rallied. Fine. If all she’d been last night was a tumble in the hay, then two could play at this game. She slid on her underwear and skirt, killing angry tears.

  She’d been a fool to think that she felt anything for him anyway.

  “Is the car running yet?” She punched her arms through her sweater, wishing the open space was Garrett’s face instead.

  “I don’t know.”

  Megan ran her fingers through her hair impatiently as she moved past him. The small space made maneuvering difficult—and reminded her of just how warm, hard and tempting his body had felt against hers last night.

  Damn it, don’t go there, she upbraided herself.

  “Excuse me.” Elbowing him out of her way, she opened the door to the rest of the garage.

  Henry was already there, bent over the engine as the hood yawned open over his head. Megan took comfort in his presence.

  “Good morning.” Megan addressed the old man’s back as she ventured forward. “How’s the patient?”

  Looking at her over his shoulder, Henry drew the white tufts that passed for eyebrows together in a single line.

  “The car.” Megan pointed to it. “How’s it doing?”

  “Oh.” He chuckled to himself. “It’ll live. Got the cap in.” He gestured at something in the engine Megan wouldn’t have been able to identify if her life depended on it. “Not the same brand, but it’ll get you to where you’re going if you don’t push it.” He ducked back down to continue working, his permanently stained fingers wrapped around a socket wrench. “By the way, the wife sent over coffee if you’re interested.” Extending his hand behind him, Henry waved the wrench in the general direction of the scarred wooden table.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Megan saw Garrett entering. She deliberately avoided looking his way as she crossed to the coffeepot warming on the single burner. She poured the coffee into one of the paper cups Henry had brought along. Megan took a sip. The coffee tasted surprisingly good.

  “That was very nice of her. How much do we owe you? For the cot and room service?” she said, smiling.

  He didn’t answer immediately as he worked to tighten a cable. “You the one who cleaned up my stuff?”

  She wasn’t sure whether the question was an accusation, or just part of the conversation. In either case, there was no point in denying it or pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about The man was too old to believe in elves. “Yes.”

  He nodded to himself more than to her. “Thought as much. Can’t remember when it’s been this clear on the floor. Pay me for the distributor cap and we’ll call it even.” Straightening, he blew his nose in the huge handkerchief he kept tucked in his back pocket, then stood back to admire the car. “It’s running.”

  Megan breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t wait to put this place, and its tiny back room, behind her.

  They were on the road again within the hour, an uneasy silence riding along with them. It had crept inside the moment they were both sitting in the vehicle, and remained, growing larger, for more than half an hour.

  It was finally broken, not by either one of them nor the radio that he’d left on, but by the ring of Garrett’s cell phone.

  Apparently it was in operating order again, Garrett thought, taking the phone out of his pocket and flipping it open. “Wichita.”

  “Where have you been?” he heard Oscar demand. “I’ve been trying to get through all night. We thought you were down.”

  The choice of words brought an involuntary smile to Garrett’s lips. Maybe he had been—for a while. But he was up now. Up and focused. All that mattered, he insisted silently, was bringing in Velasquez.

  “Not down, just out of range, Oscar. I had car trouble. The distributor cap had to be replaced,” he added, although what Oscar knew about cars could be crammed into a thimble. His partner’s expertise lay with computers, not engines.

  “You okay now?”

  Garrett slanted a look toward Megan. No, he was far from okay—but he would be. “The mechanic thought we could make it to the next town. I figure I’ll rent another car when I get there. Why were you trying to reach me?”

  Even as he asked, Garrett brac
ed himself for another change in plans. Everything had been in a state of constant flux ever since he’d started on this assignment. Including him.

  “Just to let you know that everything’s on track and still on. Velasquez and his men just entered the city. We’ve got people all over, and one of them spotted the white limo pulling up to the hotel.”

  “Hotel?” This was a change in venue, Garrett thought, even though the news, for once, was good. Were there others?

  “Yeah, seems like he’s staying at a hotel until this goes down. Maybe he couldn’t unload the other two properties and he’s strapped for cash,” Oscar joked. And then his voice sobered. “Or maybe this time, this is really it.”

  Garrett realized that Megan had shifted in her seat so that her back was to him. Before he could wonder why, he heard the melodious chimes of a telephone number being dialed on a cell phone keypad. Megan was placing a call to someone.

  He tried to keep his mind on what Oscar was telling him. “Where’s Velasquez staying?”

  “The Excelsior. Tower suites, top floor,” Oscar added. “I guess he thinks he’s the king of the world...”

  Who is she calling? Garrett wondered. With Oscar talking in his ear, he couldn’t hear Megan’s voice. And he’d just missed what Oscar had said. “What?”

  “I said, maybe he’ll get high on his own stuff and try to fly. It’d save us all a lot of time and money.”

  This time, he heard the weariness in Oscar’s voice A lot of man-hours had gone into this. The only difference was that the others involved had a life to get back to. This was his life, his purpose.

  “Not him. He’s too smart to take any of that garbage into his system.” And if he were being truthful with himself, Garrett didn’t want Velasquez put out of commission before he got to him. That honor belonged to him, and he wouldn’t be cheated of it. “Anything else new?”

  “No, the drop’s still set for tomorrow night.”

  A little more than twenty-four hours, and then it would all be over. He glanced toward Megan, who was still on the phone.

  All of it.

  “Stay in touch if there’s anything new,” he told Oscar. “I should reach Reno in another four hours.”

  “Try not to break down again,” Oscar warned dryly.

  “Don’t worry,” Garrett said tersely. “I won’t.”

  It was a promise to himself that he meant to keep.

  Flipping the phone closed, he tucked it back into his pocket, then glanced at Megan. Her voice was low, but without Oscar talking in his ear, he could hear her.

  “Right, Kathy’ll be home soon, I promise. Yes, in Reno. Keep a light burning in the window, Mr. Teasdale. And one in your heart.”

  When she closed the phone and put it away, she could feel Garrett’s eyes on her, but she refused to look at him or initiate any conversation. She could hold out just as long as he could.

  Longer even.

  “Isn’t that a little too positive sounding?”

  It figured that the first thing out of his mouth would be criticism. Megan worked at holding her temper—and her perspective. Served her right for being sympathetic to a man whose heart came packaged with a Teflon warranty.

  She raised her chin. “Right now, nothing sounds too positive to those people.”

  She was thinking of the moment; he was thinking of the future. All he could focus on was the way the couple would feel if Megan failed. “What if you can’t deliver? What if something goes wrong?” he pressed. “What then?”

  Leave it to him to only see the dark side of it, Megan thought. Couldn’t he put himself in someone else’s shoes for a minute? Couldn’t he spare a little compassion, or be optimistic, for that matter?

  “I’ll face it when it comes,” she said fiercely, then got her temper under control. “And nothing’s going to go wrong.” She looked at him pointedly. “No matter what.” She was putting him on notice that she was going to get Kathy out, no matter what happened to his plans for Velasquez’s downfall.

  “And for your information, I think those people need an extra dose of hope right around now. They’ve just faced Thanksgiving without their daughter, worried that this is the beginning of the rest of their lives, not a temporary separation. For better or for worse, I’m all they have to find Kathy.” Despite her best intentions, her temper broke free of its bonds. “I’d rather give them something to hang on to than cover my own tail.” She glared at him, daring Garrett to argue. “I suppose you think I’m stupid.”

  Garrett had been quiet during her outburst. Quiet and thoughtful. Listening to her, he was beginning to discover, got him further than arguing.

  “I think a lot of things, Megan.” His tone was as mild as hers was filled with emotion. Garrett looked at her for a second before continuing. “But one thing I don’t think is that you’re stupid.”

  She looked at him in confusion. Every time she had him pegged, he shifted the picture. She blew out a breath, still staring straight ahead. “Don’t start being nice to me, Wichita. You’ll just mix me up again.”

  Garrett smiled to himself. “Maybe that’s the plan.” She looked at him then, the expression on her face telling him that she was willing to meet him halfway—if he remained civilized. He figured maybe compromise was good for the soul. “Music?” He switched on the radio.

  Megan looked at it warily. She was in no mood to put up with memories of the distant past. “Classical?”

  He pushed in a button. She recognized the song. “Modern.”

  It was a compromise. Maybe there was hope for the man, after all. Megan sat back in her seat, the stiffness leaving her shoulders. “Okay.”

  Garrett was a man who knew when to keep his mouth shut. Usually. But somehow, Megan seemed to blow apart all the rules. All he wanted her to do was understand—even if he couldn’t.

  “Look, about last night—”

  Oh no, she’d just pushed that into the background, Megan thought. She wasn’t about to go over it again. They’d just struck up a truce; she didn’t want him saying anything that would send them both back to their corners. She felt too tired, too edgy, to handle anything that would come of a confrontation.

  So she cut him off. “No explanations necessary, Wichita. We were cold. We did the logical thing to stave it off.” She shrugged carelessly. “We kept warm enough to make it through to morning.”

  Garrett doubted that that was the way she really saw it. He certainly didn’t. “I figure we kept warm enough to heat an entire Alaskan village through a blizzard.”

  A smile crept over her lips, but she kept her face forward, her eyes on the road. “Never do anything halfway—that’s my motto.”

  And last night hadn’t been halfway. Not for either of them. “Got any other mottoes I should know about?”

  The smile wouldn’t leave. It was there when she spared him half a glance. “Maybe.”

  Suddenly, the future that loomed before him became a whole lot more promising. And a great deal more complicated than he liked. He was torn over which way to lean.

  The car shuddered. Megan caught her breath, holding it to see what would happen next. But the shudder was isolated, and the vehicle kept going. Maybe their luck would hold.

  Megan leaned forward a little, her hand on the dashboard. “Henry said that he thought this could get us to where we had to go.”

  “Operative word here is thought.”

  “We have to hope,” she replied.

  It was all they had, she thought, and it wasn’t really grounded in reality. But if they held onto it—if she held onto it—maybe everything would turn out all right.

  It had been a long time since there’d been hope in her own life.

  Chapter 13

  Megan let out a long breath. They had gotten into the city on a tire and a prayer, but at least they’d made it.

  Ten miles outside Reno, the car had begun to shimmy and shake like a building at the epicenter of an earthquake. It was touch-and-go as to whether they’d get to the city
. The car finally gave up the ghost and died three blocks away from the rental agency.

  Garrett and she had pushed it out of the intersection to the curb, grabbed the map out of the car, and hurried to the agency.

  The only car that the put-upon man behind the counter had left was a two-door subcompact. “There’s a convention in town. Every car and every room is booked. You’re lucky I have this,” he told them as he took Garrett’s card and ran it through the machine.

  Garrett didn’t exactly see it as lucky. He circled the only vehicle on the lot, as if hoping that another view might somehow improve things. It didn’t. The car looked small from every angle.

  “It’s a clown car.” His last bit of patience evaporating, he threw up his hands. “How am I supposed to drive a clown car?”

  Megan took the keys from his palm. “You don’t,” she said cheerfully. “I do. Get in on the passenger side and push the seat back as far as you can.” She gave Garrett’s torso a once-over. “Maybe that way there’ll be enough room to accommodate those long legs of yours.”

  He scowled, but he had to admit that the suggestion made sense. They didn’t have time for him to go scouting around to other rental agencies for another car. Besides, if what the man behind the counter said was true, there wasn’t another car available, no matter where they went. For the time being, he was stuck.

  He got in, his scowl deepening as he looked at her. He didn’t like letting someone else drive. But he had no choice—something else he wasn’t crazy about. Sitting on the driver’s side would be torturous. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely.” Buckling up, Megan opened the map she’d rescued from the other car and honed in on the Excelsior’s major cross streets. Noting them, she flipped the map over her shoulder into the back seat. As she started the car, she began humming.

  She didn’t have to be so cheerful about this, he thought. “Anyone ever tell you that you have some pretty annoying qualities?”

  “More than once. Don’t worry, you’re in good company,” she quipped, apparently enjoying the knowledge that she was getting under his skin.