by C. J. Miller
“You could have asked Reilly how I was.”
“I needed to see for myself.”
Brady rubbed the back of his neck. “If you’re telling me half-truths, I have no reason to be straight with you either.”
Susan was holding back. Taking an emotional leap with Brady was dangerous. She could easily be hurt. After they’d had sex, she’d gotten a dose of pain and a reminder of how easily he could hurt her. But if she wanted him to open up to her, she owed him the truth in return. Circling each other and putting effort into protecting their feelings wasn’t working. “I missed you. I wanted to see you.” An admission that struck her hard.
“You missed someone you were furious with?” he asked, challenge in his eyes.
“I wasn’t furious with you. I was hurt and angry.” Not the same.
“I must have added to that anger when I kicked you out of my hospital room.” He spoke the words carefully, watching her face.
She lifted her chin. Brady’s rejection had stung. “How did you feel when I rejected your offer for help the first time?”
“I didn’t like it. But you’re stubborn when you want to be,” Brady said.
“Ditto,” she shot back.
Brady laughed. “I missed this. Honest Susan, who gives as much as she gets.”
“Then if that’s true, give me something. I’ve confided in you about the most difficult parts of my life. I’ve told you about my parents. I’ve told you everything I know about Justin’s murder. Tell me how you injured your leg.”
Brady’s eyes widened and he rubbed his jaw line. “Why do you want to hear about that?”
It had changed his life, continued to affect him, and having a real relationship meant sharing the good and the bad. “We’re friends,” she said, forcing out the word. Friend was unthreatening. Friend was open and relaxed. She could have used the words partner in crime or lover, but those had emotional implications. She didn’t want him to put up emotional boundaries again and shut down or shut her out.
Brady inclined his head and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Okay, friend,” he said, heavy emphasis on the word friend. Did he find it ridiculous because they’d slept together? Or was he as unsure as she was?
Addressing sleeping together felt less important than making an honest, real connection. They could chalk up sex to attraction, desire or hormones. Sharing painful parts of his life with her was progress she longed to have with him.
Brady took a deep breath, his broad chest rising and falling. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. Finally, he spoke. “My team and I were following some intel to extract friendly forces from behind enemy lines in...in the place where we were.”
When she’d asked him about his work in the past, he’d given her vague, dismissive answers. He was censoring parts of the story, but he was letting her in, and he’d never done that before. It wasn’t the how of the events that was important but rather the how of his feelings.
“Our informant was a woman. Young, early twenties. Her husband had mistreated her for years and she told us where she believed they were holding the men we’d been sent to rescue. Her husband found out, or maybe she misled us, and instead of surprising them, they surprised us.
“One of the men on the enemy’s forces was young. Too young to be a solider. I hesitated when he charged at us with his gun in his hand. The fear in his eyes told me he didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to shoot that gun and for a moment, I thought he would turn and run.”
Brady went quiet and hung his head. When he lifted his gaze to her, deep pools of sadness met her eyes. “I hesitated too long. He got a shot off on me and hit me in the knee. The bullet shattered the bone. A teammate returned fire and killed him. My screw-up almost cost the lives of my team and the people I was sent to save. The whole thing was flamed up because of me.”
She set her hand on his arm, letting him know she was listening.
“I was medic’d out several hours later. Thirty dead on their side, five injured on ours, including me. Why did I hesitate? I’d been trained to protect. To do whatever was necessary to rescue our captured men.” Guilt and shame shook his voice.
Susan took his hands in hers. He might have made a mistake in his way of thinking, but concern and humanity underscored his actions. “You made a decision based on compassion for another human being. You’ve been in difficult situations before and you haven’t frozen.”
“In the past, maybe. Since then, I’ve second-guessed myself. I’ve questioned my instincts and my reactions. When someone came for you at my cabin, he got a shot off because I waited. When we were in the woods being chased, I hesitated to return fire.”
“One mistake during a mission doesn’t mean you should question every decision you’ve made since then,” Susan said.
“One time is all it takes to cost lives. I’ve frozen. I’ve hesitated. I’ve lost my edge, Susan. I’m a danger to the people around me.”
She hadn’t noticed any hesitation on his part when he’d stepped in to protect her. To her, he was Brady, protector, strong and fierce.
“I’ve never felt unsafe with you. You’re the man who makes me feel safest in the world.”
Brady’s eyes met and held her gaze. He drew himself up.
“Were the men you were sent to rescue saved?” Susan asked.
The corners of his mouth turned up. “Yes. Thank God.”
Then the mission wasn’t a failure. “You made a mistake. Will you beat yourself up over it forever?”
He tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. “In the past, I’ve told myself I was to protect and save those who can’t protect themselves. But I failed. Every time I think about my bum knee, every time my leg gives out, every time I hesitate and question my instincts, I’m reminded of that day and my failure. Could my team trust me ever again to do my job? I’ll never get a chance to find out. Surgeries and physical therapy can’t fix my knee. I made a mistake and it ruined my career.”
Brady sat on the bed and Susan wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Brady held himself to a high standard. He worked hard and wanted to be successful at every task he undertook. One mistake had cost him so much. It didn’t seem fair.
He relaxed in her arms. “Are you sorry you asked?”
Not in the slightest. “No, I’m not sorry. I wanted to know how you felt. I’m glad you told me.” He’d let her into a place in his life where she hadn’t been allowed before today. It felt good and right.
She set her hand on his injured knee. He stiffened, but didn’t pull away. Susan didn’t know how many minutes passed before Brady spoke again.
“I’m worried that I’ll fail you and I’ll let Reilly down, too. You say you feel safe with me, but is that because I’m the only option? My knee’s been a problem and I can’t trust it. How can you trust someone who can’t trust himself? How can anyone put their faith in a man who isn’t a man?”
The question was raw and brutal and it took her a moment to process it. “What do you mean ‘not a man’? Your knee has nothing to do with being a man. And you are not the only option. You’re just the best option.”
Brady’s eyes burned into hers, unguarded pain shining in them. “My work defined who I was. I was proud of my work and proud of what I did for our country. Now what good am I? Everyone in my family does important work to help others.”
Is that what he’d been thinking? He’d been struggling with building a new career. He’d been in physical pain. She had never drawn the conclusion that those things meant he believed himself worthless. “You’ve been helping me.”
He slammed his fist into his open palm. “Have I, Susan? I’ve failed you, too. When I broke up with you, it drove you into Justin’s arms. Look how that turned out. When you came to see me in the hospit
al, I was too much of a mess to talk to you when having a friend was probably what I needed.”
Susan should have seen it sooner. Brady was a man of actions, not words. His actions were those of an emotionally wounded man, a man in need of friendship and consideration and patience. She’d been quick to shut him out for fear she’d be hurt instead of giving him time to heal. “You can’t blame yourself for choices I made,” Susan said. She’d gotten into a relationship with Justin on the rebound, despite her better judgment. She had chosen to visit Brady in the hospital and then taken great offense when he’d rejected her.
“I almost missed the guy who broke into my house to kill you. I couldn’t identify the men on the pier who shot at us. I got us run off the road and almost killed. The list of my mistakes is long and severe,” Brady said.
Susan didn’t think those incidents were Brady’s fault. His actions had shown strength, loyalty and courage. “If it wasn’t for you, I would be dead. You haven’t failed me. You’ve protected me. You’ve sacrificed so much to keep me safe.”
Seriousness rasped his voice. “Protecting you means everything to me. I won’t let anyone hurt you, including me. I want you to be happy.”
Emotion clogged her throat. He cared about her. For all his pushing her away and pulling her close, he cared.
She banded her arms around him and hugged him, wishing she could take the confidence she had in him and pass it through to him. They sat together for several long minutes.
“Tell me why you were crying in the garden,” Brady said.
She’d almost forgotten about it and was pleased he hadn’t. “Everything was catching up to me. I feel lost. Scared.”
His arm slipped around her waist. “Hey, me, too.”
The admission struck her. Admitting he was afraid? For Brady, that had to be hard. “You don’t act afraid.”
“I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t. I’m trying to be strong for you. Trying to think positive when we don’t have much to be positive about.”
A lot had gone wrong for her and for them, but it had brought Brady back into her life. Initially, that hadn’t seemed like a good thing. But without him, where would she be? Imprisoned? Dead?
She had loved him a great deal. As much as she had tried to close the door to the past, those emotions hadn’t been extinguished completely. Clearing away the clutter and misunderstandings of the past had opened her eyes to the truth. She had tried to move on, her unresolved feelings for Brady manifesting into bitterness and an automatic defensive response when he was close. If she had moved on and let go of him, she would have felt nothing: nothing when he’d been injured, nothing when he’d rejected her in the hospital and nothing when he’d shown up in her bedroom. Her resentment had concealed a painful truth: she still loved him. Loved him and couldn’t trust him. Did he even trust himself?
If they survived this, Brady had a long road to recovery ahead of him, dealing with his injury and the changes in his life. Susan didn’t want to think about that now. She wanted to prove to Brady that his injuries didn’t matter to her and they wouldn’t matter to others.
Susan traced her finger along his jaw. “Kiss me.”
Without hesitation, Brady brought his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and unhurried.
Susan broke the kiss and pulled her shirt over her head, Brady’s eyes on her. Wicked, hot pleasure danced along her skin.
He reached to touch her and she shook her head and stepped away, never breaking eye contact. The last time they’d made love, it had been frantic and hurried. This time, she wanted to take their time. She turned and unsnapped her bra, shimmying her shoulders so the straps fell. She looked over at him, keeping her back to him, and tossed the strip of fabric to him.
He reached to touch her and she shook her head. “No touching until I say.”
He caught it and growled. “You are playing with fire.”
“You’re too much of a gentleman to violate my rule.” She tossed him a smile to let him know she was teasing.
Brady gripped the bedspread. “Susan.”
The begging in his voice. The expression on his face. He wanted her. A man as powerful as Brady needing her was a thrill. She bent over, hooking her panties with her thumbs and slid them to the floor. She tossed those over her shoulder, as well.
She pivoted and took two steps toward him. His eyes burned with wanting and sweat broke out on his forehead.
She shoved his shoulders, pushing him back on the bed.
His eyes flickered with provocation. “Now. Let me touch you now.”
She shook her head. “Patience.”
“I don’t have any of that.”
She laughed. She kissed his forehead, his nose and his cheeks. She nibbled his ear lobes, letting her hands rest on his chest and her thighs brush his.
“Susan, I only have so much control.”
She brought her mouth to his ear. “You’ll have me. I promise,” she whispered. “And I’ll have you.”
She peeled his shirt away from his skin. Running her hands over the hard lines and planes of his body, she shivered with excitement. Anticipation hummed in the air.
She unbuttoned his pants and slid down the zipper. Reaching inside the dark fabric, she freed him with her hand. She knelt between his knees and watched his face as she took him into her mouth.
His breath came out in a hiss of air. His hands fisted the blankets. Then her name, loudly, clear on his lips.
She slid the length of him in and out, hallowing her cheeks, enjoying the sensation, the feeling. Toying with him, she watched emotions play across his face.
“Susan, I can’t hold on much longer. Please let me inside you.”
She was enjoying herself, but she wanted him thrusting inside her. Susan released him and rose to her feet. She climbed on his lap, straddling his hips. She cupped his face and kissed him long and hard. Their tongues danced and his hips brushed hers, his arousal pressing at her core, straining.
Her intentions to go slow fled. Brady fumbled to put on a condom.
She lifted her hips and impaled herself, taking him deep, reveling in the sensations of him filling her. She rode him hard, gripping his shoulders. His hands went to her waist lifting and lowering her. Every movement was more incredible than the one before it.
This time, she held nothing back. Her heart was open. No boundaries. No lies. No hiding and protecting themselves.
He pumped inside her harder and her fingers dug into his shoulders. She was on the brink of release. The sensations heightened impossibly high, fevered and frantic. She arched her back and he surged inside her. She fell over the summit, and rhythmic cries rocked her. Her completion signaled his own.
Their breathing was labored and they collapsed on the bed, panting and spent.
Susan turned her head, brushing her hair off her face. They basked in the aftermath of their lovemaking. With her ear to his chest, she could hear his heart racing.
“Amazing,” she said. Susan rolled to his side and he gathered her against him, spooning her body into his. “Maybe we can repeat that later.” She strung the words out for him to latch onto, wanting him to give her a promise of a future.
“I could go for that. Name the time and place and I’m yours.”
For the first time, she felt that he was. Maybe not tomorrow, but at least for now.
Chapter 11
Susan roused from sleep when Brady shifted next to her, pulling her against him. They couldn’t stay here forever. She should get up and start looking for the lock where the key fit. She should be reading Justin’s notebook or looking for a computer to check the news or turning on the television news stations. Her future depended on resolving the past.
She told herself five more minutes wouldn’t hurt. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, forty minutes had pass
ed. This was what she remembered about life with Brady. He relaxed her. He made her feel at ease in a way others couldn’t.
She tried to climb out of the bed without disturbing him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“We’ve been asleep for a couple of hours. I want to start looking for the lock.”
“Give me a minute to check in with Harris. Then we can start looking around,” Brady said.
He turned on the prepaid phone and dialed. Susan got dressed, listening to one side of the conversation. Mostly, Brady made sounds of acknowledgment.
Brady disconnected and looked at Susan. He had a haunted expression on his face. “A body washed ashore at the marina. It’s been leaked and the media is going wild with speculation.”
Susan froze and bile rose in her throat. “Justin?”
They’d found his body. Would it help if the ME found evidence to exonerate her? What evidence could they find on his body to prove Susan hadn’t killed him? Or would the ME find more evidence to use against Susan? What if finding Justin’s body proved she had been involved? Old fears and guilt rose making it hard to breathe.
“The identity of the body hasn’t been released to the public, but Harris confirmed it was a male aged between twenty and forty. Harris didn’t know if the body had any stab injuries or gunshot wounds. The body has been in the water awhile.”
Thinking of Justin’s body floating in the marina made her sick to her stomach and sad for his family. They had to be going through hell. She wasn’t happy they had chosen to blame her, but with the body in the ME’s lab, they could have closure. “This will clear Reilly. The ME will see that Reilly had nothing to do with killing Justin. It might point the finger at me.”
Brady picked up his clothes from the floor. “You didn’t kill Justin.”
“The men hunting me think I did. Justin’s father thinks I did.”
