Her Millionaire Marine

by Cathie Linz

  “You’re not the first woman who thought she could change a man.”

  “Then he wouldn’t be Striker.” That realization had hit her about an hour after he’d left. He wasn’t like Ted. He wasn’t returning to the Marine Corps for the mere thrill of it. He was doing so out of a sense of duty. She got it now. “He’s following his dream.”

  “What about your dreams?”

  “Exactly. I haven’t been sitting here these two days feeling sorry for myself. Well, maybe I was, a little…that first day. But not anymore.”

  “Then why are you still crying?”

  “Because I’m sorry it took me so long to understand. The silver lining is that I’ve reached some decisions about my life.”

  Elizabeth sat down beside her and patted her hand. “Good for you.”

  Kate wasn’t sure her mother would still think so after hearing what she had in mind. But that didn’t change her determination any.

  She was going to do what had to be done. What she should have done years ago. It had taken a catalyst like Striker to make her reexamine her life and the choices she’d made. “I used to think that things happen for a reason. Especially bad things. And that reason was because of me.”

  “You?” Elizabeth frowned. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “You remember when Grandma died?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “Remember how I didn’t want to go see her? A few days later she was dead.”

  “You thought that was your fault?”

  “I felt guilty, yes. And guilt has prevented me from following my dreams.”

  “Guilt about your grandmother’s death?”

  “And more. About Ted.”

  “Your grandmother had a stroke and Ted died in a car accident. You had nothing to do with either of those occurrences.”

  “I didn’t want to marry Ted.” It was the first time she’d told her mother that. “The closer we got to the wedding, the more I fantasized about running away. I was thinking about leaving him that day…the day he was killed.” She didn’t tell her mom about the crush she’d had on Striker. There was only so much she could share.

  But if Kate didn’t come completely clean, she couldn’t start fresh. As difficult as it was, she had to dump the ugly baggage once and for all.

  “There’s more. I’ve never told anyone this…” Kate’s gaze pleaded with her mother to understand. She was taking a big emotional risk here. But that’s something the new Kate had vowed to do. Not to let fear or guilt paralyze her any longer. “I had a crush on Striker. I’d seen him a couple times that summer when he was nineteen and came to Hank’s ranch. He didn’t notice me at all, but I daydreamed about him a lot during that time.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  “I know you probably think that makes me a bad person…”

  “I think it makes you human. You think I never experienced guilt? What about when your grandmother died? You said you felt guilty but I was the one who made the decision not to visit her. She was my mother, I should have known something was wrong, should have gone to visit her. But I didn’t. And that’s not the only time… When I was in competitions, there was one time when I was sixteen when I badly wanted to win. Well, I always wanted to win, but this was for Miss Junior Austin. There was one girl who was prettier and more accomplished than I was. She was all that I thought stood between me and that title. So I actually hoped that something bad would happen to her. It did. She had appendicitis. It ruptured and she had to be rushed to the hospital. She almost died. I felt like I’d done that to her.” Elizabeth paused to face Kate. “You do know that we don’t have that kind of power, right? That the power is actually in the guilt, which stays with you like a burr under your skin. It made me want a perfect life, where nothing was wrong. If nothing went wrong, then I wouldn’t have anything else to feel guilty about.”

  “You never said anything.”

  “Of course not. Saying it would mean acknowledging the guilt. I thought if I didn’t talk about it that it would go away. Only it never did.”

  “I know.” Kate could sure relate to that. “I was getting ready to tell you and Dad that I wanted to leave the family firm and go into public law when Dad had his heart attack two years ago. Again, guilt held me back. Because by then this pattern had developed. Whenever I tried to do what I wanted, instead of what was expected of me, bad things happened. People died. Or almost died.”

  “I had no idea you felt this way. Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this before? Silly question. We never had that kind of relationship, did we?” Elizabeth’s voice was filled with regret. “I was one of the reasons you were doing things that made you miserable. You were doing them to make your father and me happy.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m an adult. I made my own choices.”

  “Under the pressure of expectations from your father and I.”

  “I’m not doing that anymore. I can’t. After that disastrous dinner that night on the River Walk, Striker talked about living the life you wanted instead of the one that was expected of you. I need to do that now. I need to live the life I want.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That I want to work for Children’s Services as an advocate for kids and families in need.”

  “What about Striker?”

  “He was right. About some things. But he was wrong when he said that I wanted someone he’s not. I don’t. I want him. Just the way he is. I guess I needed shaking out of my sheltered little world to realize what I was missing. I was missing having my own life. I was missing love. By playing it safe, I wasn’t really playing at all. I was just a spectator. Well, not anymore. I’ve finally come to terms with my past. And that’s given me the courage to see a new future for myself. I love you and Dad, but I can’t keep living the life you want me to. I have to follow my own dreams.”

  “I guess I knew this day was coming.” Elizabeth took a steadying breath and surreptitiously wiped away a tear. “Babs will be most upset that you’re not hooking up with Rodney, you know.” She laughed at Kate’s expression. “Relax, I was just teasing. I guess you and I have both had a few moments of self-discovery recently.” She looked at Kate uncertainly before slowly holding out her arms. “How about a hug?”

  The two women embraced before breaking away with nervous laughter and tears.

  Elizabeth quickly wiped away the moisture from her cheeks. “Now, let’s break out some champagne. The last time I was here I saw that you hadn’t opened the bottle we gave you for New Year’s. We need to celebrate.”

  “I still have to tell Dad my decision. I don’t know how he’s going to take the news.”

  “Leave your father to me. You just worry about that new life of yours.”

  Three weeks later, Striker had just completed his debriefing at the Marine Corps headquarters in Quantico regarding his latest special op mission and was about to leave the building when he was handed a message. Urgent, please call immediately.

  The number was his parents’ cell phone.

  His stomach clenched but his fingers were steady as he quickly punched the memory button on his own cell phone. His mom answered on the first ring.

  “It’s Striker. What’s wrong? Is it Dad?”

  “No, your father is fine. So are your brothers. It’s Kate.”

  “Did she call you? Why? To try and get you to convince me to go back to King Oil?”

  “Striker, shut up and listen. There’s been an accident. Elizabeth called to tell me. Kate was in a car accident. She’s in critical condition.”

  Fear skidded through his body and slammed into his heart. He’d always been the one who lived with danger. He’d never once considered the idea that something might happen to Kate.

  His years of military training was the only thing preventing him from panicking. Even so, his voice was rough with emotion. “Give me the name of the hospital in San Antonio and I’ll catch the next flight down there.” He had some liberty time coming after thi
s last mission.

  “She’s not in San Antonio. She’s in Washington. Or in Virginia to be exact.” She gave him the name of the hospital. “Her parents are there already. The accident happened last night. They flew in first thing this morning. Striker, Kate hasn’t regained consciousness. It’s not looking good.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Striker made the drive in record time and he entered the hospital at a run. The mantra Let her be okay, let her be okay, ran through his head even as he stopped by the front desk for more information. The woman there seemed to take forever to tell him what room Kate was in and how to get there.

  He saw her parents the second he stepped out of the elevator. They looked as devastated as he felt. Not that it showed. He had his war face on. The one that got things done. The one that won battles.

  Elizabeth greeted him with a wobbly smile. “Striker, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I just got back. What’s her condition? What do the doctors say?”

  “Her condition hasn’t changed,” Jack replied. “She hasn’t regained consciousness. The doctors tell us the next twenty-four hours will be critical. They don’t know if she’s going to make it.” His voice broke.

  “Of course she’s going to make it.” Striker’s voice was rock solid even though his gut clenched.

  “She came to Washington to see you,” Elizabeth said. “Your mom told her that you were coming back and she wanted to see you.”

  Guilt slammed into him.

  As if reading his thoughts, Elizabeth immediately placed her hand on his arm. “No, don’t do that. No guilt. Kate wouldn’t want that. She came here of her own free will. She’s made some changes since you’ve been gone. Major changes. She’s gone to work for Children’s Services as an advocate for kids and families in need.”

  Striker remembered Kate talking about doing something like that, but he never really believed she’d be willing to give up her high-paying job with her family’s law firm. Now he realized how badly he’d misjudged her. And how much he loved her.

  He’d known he’d missed her. He’d known he’d thought about her while overseas. He’d known then that his feelings ran deep, and were the permanent kind.

  If only he’d told her. If only he’d said something before leaving her in Texas. Then she wouldn’t have come to Washington, wouldn’t have been in the car accident.

  “She loves working for Children’s Services. It’s something she’s always wanted to do,” Elizabeth was saying. “But guilt held her back.”

  “Guilt?” He didn’t understand.

  Elizabeth briefly filled him in, from Kate’s guilt about her grandmother’s death to her guilt about her father’s heart attack. “She really thought that following her dreams resulted in other people paying the price with their lives. And now here she is following her dream and she’s the one hurt, fighting for her life.” Tears ran down her face. “The doctors didn’t seem hopeful.”

  When Jack placed his arm around her, she buried her face in his shoulder.

  Striker refused to accept the grim medical prognosis. “The doctors are wrong. She’s going to make it. I’m not giving up on her,” he said fiercely. “And you can’t, either. Do you hear me? I am not letting her go.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Striker entered Kate’s hospital room, prepared for the worst. Even so, seeing her lying there, so pale and still, hooked up to monitors and IVs, was almost more than he could bear. The sound of the machinery was surreal, the beeps mingling with his thundering heartbeat.

  He was by her side an instant later.

  “It’s Striker.” He took her hand in his. “I’m here, Kate. And I’m not leaving. You can’t leave, either, Kate. There are people here who love you. You are not going to die on me, do you hear me? Do not die. That’s an order.”

  At first Striker’s voice was commanding, as if he could make her regain consciousness through the sheer power of his will. Nurses came and went. One even tried to tell him visiting hours were over, but one look at his fierce face and she backed down. And through it all he held Kate’s hand and talked to her.

  Darkness fell. Jack joined him at her bedside. “You need to go eat. I’ll take over—”

  “I’m not moving.” Striker’s intense gaze remained fixed on Kate.

  A few hours later, Elizabeth placed her hand on his shoulder. “Striker, you’ve been sitting here since this morning. You need a break.”

  “I’m not leaving her.”

  “You can’t be sure that she can even hear you.”

  “I am sure. And I’m not leaving.”

  He saw the tears in Elizabeth’s eyes, saw the hopeless despair growing on her face as she turned away.

  Striker refused to give in to the desperation churning in his gut. It was hard. One of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, and there had been many. Too many. So much despair in the world, so much evil, so much brutality too often at the expense of those least able to protect themselves.

  The last hospital Striker had visited had been at a refugee camp in Afghanistan. Women and children scrambling to stay alive in a fierce environment. Memories that had to be packaged up and put on the shelf. Easy to say. Hard to do. Necessary. Or you risked giving in to the nightmares. Surrendering to the darkness.

  You got on with the job. You completed the mission.

  Plan, prepare, execute.

  No, he would not surrender. He would not give in to the desperation clawing to get out. You ordered it into oblivion. You willed it away. You kept going.

  Striker talked until his voice grew hoarse. He told Kate stories about his childhood, about his brothers. He reminded her of their time together, of the drunken brawl at the barbecue, of the tornado, of Midnight’s jealousy.

  He even sang Kenny Rogers’s “The Gambler” for her. He told her jokes. He read to her. He made up Texas sayings.

  He watched her face for any change, any sign that she was hearing him. But there was nothing. Her hand remained limp in his, her eyes closed.

  Yet still he talked.

  As time went on, as the darkest hours of the night dragged on, his orders became entreaties. “Come back to me, Kate. Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. I need you. I need to see your smile, to hear your voice. I need you more than I need air, Kate.” His voice, a hoarse whisper, cracked. “I didn’t get it before, but I understand now.” Pain resonated in every ragged breath he took. “I love you.” He bowed his proud head over her hand. “I love you.”

  Striker, the warrior able to fight so many enemies, had finally run into something greater than himself. His love for Kate.

  He was in danger of being pulled into the abyss of dwindling hope when he felt something. So weak at first that it felt like the flutter of a hummingbird’s wings.

  It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t imagining things. Kate was moving her fingers.

  Looking up, he gazed into her eyes, those bluer-than-a-Texas-sky eyes. They were open. Kate had finally regained consciousness.

  He raised her captured hand to his lips before pressing his face into her palm. Then he lifted tormented eyes to her. “I love you, Kate. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He kept repeating the words, as if saying them would keep her with him.

  Kate heard him. Even when the gray mist had held her in its swirling depths, she’d heard him. Been aware of his hand holding hers, caressing her fingers, willing her to return to him. But the pain had been intense. And a bright light had beckoned.

  She’d resisted. Because there had always been Striker’s voice, his presence, his will. Begging her to come back to him.

  Her vision cleared and she saw him at her bedside. The bearded stubble on his face…the agony in his red-rimmed eyes…the slight dampness on his cheeks.

  She’d had to fight to come back…to find her Marine crying for her. The ultimate sacrifice on his part.

  She shifted so that her fingers brushed his cheek. “I…love you, too.” Her voice sounded rusty an
d uneven, but that didn’t seem to matter to him.

  His smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “You came back to me.”

  “Of…course. As if I’d…disobey an order from…the man…the Marine that I love.”

  Striker stared down at the huge bouquet of flowers in his hand and remembered the last time he’d brought Kate flowers. He’d come to her loft when she’d wanted to talk.

  And now here he was, flowers in hand again, with Kate wanting to talk. She’d told him so when he’d left the hospital last night.

  It had been almost two days since she’d regained consciousness. The doctors said she’d make a complete recovery now that she was out of danger and would be released from their care tomorrow.

  And so she wanted to talk to him.

  Old habits were hard to break, and the truth was that he was more than a little nervous as to what she might say. But knowing she loved him made a huge difference. And that she was okay. Armed with those two facts, he could face anything.

  “Are those for me?” Kate asked as he held out the beautiful bouquet.

  “Absolutely.” He carefully set the glass vase on the windowsill. He’d gotten the biggest bunch of flowers the hospital gift shop had to offer.

  “That was sweet of you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I think we really do need to talk, Striker.”

  His stomach sank.

  “I don’t know how to put this….” Kate continued nervously. “So I guess I’ll just come out and say it. Sometimes people say things in the drama of a life-and-death situation that maybe they don’t mean to say.”

  He felt sucker punched. “You mean when you told me you loved me?”

  She frowned. “No, I mean when you told me you loved me.”

  “I knew exactly what I was saying. But you…you’d just regained consciousness. Maybe you were overcome by the emotion of the moment. If you have regrets…”

  “No way.” She reached for his hand and twined her fingers through his. “I’m the one who’s had a crush on you since she was seventeen.”

  “What are you talking about?”