Texas Marine Mayhemn

by Cynthia D'Alba

  She sighed and let him pull her to her feet.

  Like she’d told Hank yesterday, this assignment was a bad idea. Oh, not because she couldn’t handle bodyguarding duties. Those were no issue. She’d completed many assignments since she’d been hired by Hank.

  Her problem was the struggle with her reactions to Craig. That simple touch of hands as he pulled her to her feet had her head swimming and her bones melting.

  She remembered his kisses. Remembered? Hell, during the worst times in the sandbox, she could close her eyes and relive them, drown herself in the memories of the heat of his mouth, the touch of his tongue on hers, and the feel of his heart beating against her chest.

  Since the divorce, she’d dated other men. She’d kissed other men, but they’d all felt like some way to pass time. There’d been lots of offers, temptations even, but no man had shared her bed. She feared no other man could reach her soul like Craig had…damn him.

  To do her job effectively, she had to tune him out, train herself to be immune to his touch, immune to his voice,and immune to his laugh… Aw hell, who was she kidding?

  The stalker cleaned the handgun after today’s target practice. The range instructor had been quite impressed with the progress after only a couple of weeks. From unable to load the gun to eighty percent accuracy was remarkable.

  The plan hadn’t included shooting Craig. The stalker had only learned all the gun skills for personal protection.

  Now, however, fate had provided be an opportunity to put all those new learned talents into use.

  The ex-wife had to go and the sooner, the better.

  Tonight even.

  With a smile, the stalker shoved the loaded magazine into the Glock 19.

  Chapter Three

  Vanessa slid the fork with the last bite of chocolate soufflé into her mouth and moaned as she pulled the tines slowly between her lips.

  Craig swallowed against the lust rising like a tidal wave, not to mention the rising erection behind his zipper. “You keep moaning like that, and every woman in this restaurant will have to order that soufflé.”

  Vanessa’s tongue flicked out and she licked a tiny morsel off the back of the fork. “But every man will thank me.”

  “Now you’re just trying to torture me, aren’t you?” Craig said.

  She grinned. “Nope. I can’t help if you have a dirty mind.”

  “Only around you, Nessie.”

  She laughed. “I bet you say that to all those other women.”

  He frowned. “What other women?”

  “You know. “ She waved around her hand. “All those women you date.” She leaned closer. “I’ve heard all the stories.”

  He caught her raised hand and lowered it to the table, pressing his hand over hers. “That’s all they are, just stories.”

  Her gaze dropped to his hand covering hers and then she lifted her face until their gazes met. “Don’t.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he tightened his hold.

  “Don’t what? Don’t want you? Don’t miss you?”

  With a tug, she freed her hand. “Don’t tease me, Craig. Yes, I was a rough, tough Marine, but I am still a woman.”

  “I noticed.” He leaned toward her. “I’ll never stop missing you or wanting you. You may have walked out on me, but I never left you.”

  “I’m here for the job and when it’s over, I’m gone. We can’t go back. The past is the past and should stay there.”

  “Fine, leave our mistakes in the past, but haven’t you ever thought about the what ifs?”

  “No. Playing the what if game is a sure why to make yourself miserable. Why do that?”

  Reaching across the table, he reclaimed her hand. He remembered her having a thin, soft, petite hand. But that wasn’t the hand he held. This hand was still soft, but now it had a strength that hadn’t been there before, which made sense. Vanessa was a stronger person than she’d been during their years together. Where once she’d been a sweet woman he took for granted was now a powerful woman who could take on the world. Her leaving him for the Marines might have been the worst thing for him, but their separation was the best thing for her.

  “There’s one what if that has always bothered me.”

  She took a sip of her water, sloshing a few drops out on the table. “And that is?”

  “What if I never got the chance to tell you I was sorry? I am, you know. I was a lousy husband who took his wife for granted. Then I morphed into a total jerk who somehow came to believe I was so much better and smarter than all the people I knew. I took a long time to do a lot of soul-searching to realize what an ass I was.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “I am so sorry, Nessie. So very, very sorry for how I acted and for the unconscionable things I said. Forgive me.”

  She didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Her gaze held on the napkin in her lap as she twisted the cloth’s material around fingers and then straightened out again, only to start the twisting again.

  As he waited, his life flashed in his mind like movie, especially those times when he was at his worst. Nervous tension pinged inside him. And while he, of course, continued to breath, each breathe was shallow and difficult to draw.

  He hadn’t confessed all he had to, but every journey started with a first step and this was it. Her response to his apology would set the stage for everything else he had to say.

  “Without a doubt, you were a contemptibly obnoxious husband and person.”

  “True.” He nodded, ready to agree with almost any criticism she offered of his past actions. “I admit it.”

  “I came to this job still angry with you. I worried that I couldn’t do my job because of how resentful I was.”

  “I understand. I really do. Mike’s hiring you to protect me is his way of putting us in the same room so we could bury the hatchet, or at least that’s my opinion.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, well, I wanted to bury that hatchet in your groin.”

  He winced. “Ouch.”

  “But I am also smart enough to know that carrying around that much anger poisons a person. More damage is done to the hater than the hatee.” She sighed. “It’s time for me to let go of the past, so I accept your apology.”

  Their waiter took that moment to bring the check to the table. Vanessa pulled her hand back to her side of the table, a pink flush rushing to her cheeks, as if the waiter had caught them doing something illegal or immoral. Craig laid enough cash on the table to cover the meal and a respectable tip.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I need to make a quick stop in the ladies room.”

  “No problem. I’ll have the valet bring around the car.”

  As he stood talking with the valet while he waited for Vanessa, another man walked up to the entrance, opened the door, and held it as Vanessa walked out. The warm smile she gave her doorman made Craig’s gut flip. What he wouldn’t give to have her greet him with that smile every day for the rest of his life.

  Vanessa stopped and tossed back her long hair with a head shake. Right then, a breeze swept down the street, lifting strands of her hair like a model in a fashion shoot.

  Her admirer holding the door leaned close and spoke in a low voice.

  She softly laughed and tapped him on the arm.

  The jealousy dragon living inside Craig raised its head and shot a green flame into his heart. He fought the urge to run over, wrap his arm around her shoulders and claim her as his. And if he did, he was sure of her reaction, which wouldn’t be positive at all. All the progress he’d just made would be erased, and their relationship, such as it was, would be back to square one.

  Beside him, the valet, a teen who looked like he was probably still in high school, whistled low under his breath. “Now, that’s a woman,” he said in a whisper to Craig.

  “I know.” Craig grinned. “That’s my wife.”

  “Seriously?” The valet studied Vanessa, looked at Craig, then back to Vanessa. “Man, she’
s hot.”

  “I agree, but you might want to keep that to yourself. She’s an ex-Marine who can kick your butt without messing up her nails.”

  The teen’s gaze stayed glued on Vanessa, his pupils dilated.

  Craig couldn’t blame him. She had a way of capturing every male’s attention.

  “Thanks for waiting,” she said, walking up to him.

  “No problem. Want me to drive?”

  “Not after you’ve been drinking.” She gestured toward the passenger seat. “Slide in.”

  At that moment, the squeal of tires drew his attention. A speeding half-ton black truck raced toward them. Vanessa pushed him behind her and drew her gun.

  He mentally rolled his eyes. What an overreaction.

  Then a bright flash shown through the passenger window, followed by three more rapid flashes and loud pops. He found himself shoved to the ground with Vanessa sprawled on top of him. His heart leapt into his throat. His breathes came in pants.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her gun pointing toward the truck’s tailgate as it sped out of sight.

  Around them, screams filled the air as other restaurant patrons dove for cover.

  “Get off of me,” he grunted out. “I feel like a fool.”

  “Just wait a minute. If he comes back, I don’t want to have to worry about where you are.”

  After a couple of minutes, Vanessa rolled off him and stood.

  He followed, brushing the dirt off the knees of his slacks. “Don’t ever do that again,” he hissed. “The next time you’re on top of me, we’d both better be naked.”

  She looked around before turning her gaze to him. “You okay? Hit anywhere?”

  “Of course not.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’m fine.”

  “Then where’s that blood coming from?” She pointed to his white shirt.

  He looked down, and jerked with shock at seeing blood splatter on his side and shoulder.

  She yanked his shirt out of his pants and pulled it up to his shoulders.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “I don’t hurt anywhere, except where you threw me to the ground.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “It’s called doing my job.”

  “Help me,” a terrified voice cried in a strained voice.

  Vanessa whirled and took off in a run, Craig on her heels.

  “Damn it,” Craig muttered. “Poor kid.”

  The teen valet lay in the flowerbed, his white shirt soaked with blood. “It hurts,” he moaned.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Vanessa said as she crouched beside him. “You got a clean handkerchief?” she asked Craig. “I need something to press to his wound.”

  Craig tugged off his shirt and handed it to her.

  She snatched it and pressed it to the gunshot wound.

  The kid moaned in pain.

  “Hold this,” she ordered Craig. “Let me see if anyone else was hit.”

  The restaurant front window caught one or two of the bullets. A number of patrons suffered minor cuts from the flying glass. One woman had a large sliver of glass sticking out of the side of her head. A man knelt beside her hold her head steady.

  “Can I do anything?” Vanessa asked.

  The man shook his head. “I’m a nurse and her husband. I’ve got this. Has anyone called for EMTs?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll check and make sure she’s got an ambulance coming.”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  The wail of sirens broke into the sounds of crying and panicked people. A fire truck followed by two ambulances flew down the street, stopping in front of the carnage. Three police cars roared to a stop, blocking the street in both directions.

  Craig kept pressure on the valet’s chest. “You’re going to be fine. You’ve got this. What a great story you’ll have to tell. Think about that. Girls love heroes. You’re going to be so popular with the ladies.” Later, he had no idea all the things he said, mostly nonsense to distract the kid.

  Two paramedics hurried over. “We’ve got this, sir.”

  Craig stood and stepped out the way to allow the paramedics room to work. A warm hand touched his back between his shoulders.

  “You did great,” Vanessa said into his ear while rubbing up and down his back. “You held firm pressure on the wound and kept him calm. That’s all you could do.”

  His heart had started to slow to normal until that first stroke down his back. Now, the rate was climbing. He looked over his shoulder until he could catch her gaze. “You’re pretty impressive yourself.” He turned toward her. “Anyone else shot?”

  She shook her head. “Flying glass injuries.”

  “I heard your conversation with that nurse.” His lips tightened. “Do you think those bullets were meant for me?”

  “I don’t know. That’ll be up to the police to decide.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again. He ran his gaze over her face, down her body and back to her face. “No glass, no bullet wound you’re toughing out?”

  “Bullet wound I’m toughing out?” She chuckled. She touched his cheek. “I’m fine. Let’s find the lead detective and fill him in. After that, I need to contact Hank Patterson and the FBI agent on your case. We don’t know if this attack was directed at you or the restaurant or someone else, but they need to be made aware. Even though you are positive that Knue had no way to travel to Texas, we can’t know that.”

  When they finally staggered into the house, the hour was late, almost eleven.

  “Want a drink?” Craig asked. “Because I’m sure having one.” He pulled two glass tumblers from the kitchen cabinet. “Never mind. You’re having a drink with me.” Bourbon followed a couple of ice cubes he threw into the glasses. He handed one to her and then tapped his glass to hers.

  “What are we drinking to?” she asked, looking over the rim at him.

  “Life and never having to go through something like that again.”

  “I can drink to that.”

  As the initial sip of whiskey slid down his throat, he released a long sigh. After such a positive dinner, he’d hoped to bring up their marital situation but after the last four hours, he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for that kind of discussion. And the way she tossed back her bourbon suggested she wouldn’t be receptive to his news.

  He caught the bottle of bourbon between his fingers and lifted it. “Come on.” He walked toward the living room. After a couple of steps, he looked back and saw she hadn’t moved from the kitchen. “I’m tired. I’ve been interviewed by half of the Big Branch sheriff’s department while half-dressed for the last four hours. I want to sit on a comfortable couch and drink.”

  “I understand that, more than you can probably know. If you want to be alone, I have no problem heading on up to bed.”

  “Hell, no, I don’t want to be alone. I want company.”

  She trailed in his wake to the living room and took the wingback chair across from the sofa.

  He dropped heavily onto the sofa cushions.

  “And before you make something out of my last comment.” He leaned forward to set the bourbon on the table between them. “I want to clarify that I want your company, not just anyone’s.”

  She smiled and relaxed into the chair. “You might know me too well.”

  He smiled and refilled his glass. “You might be a prickly cactus sometimes.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her lips drew in a firm line.

  “But a very pretty prickly cactus,” he added, throwing in a wink with his smile.

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You might want to slow down on the booze. It’s making you a little too honest. And I’d hate for all your honesty to make me move slower when shoving your ass out of the way of the next bullet.”

  The smile dropped from his face. “That shooting was a hell of thing, wasn’t it?” He ran his hands through his hair. “I hope that kid is going to okay.”

  “His wound didn’t look too bad. He should be fi
ne. I’ve seen a number of similar injuries.” She poured another shot into her glass and tossed it back.

  “I guess things like gunshots and blood are old hat to you.”

  “Don’t forget all the dead bodies I’ve helped cart away.” She closed her eyes for a second, and then said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Their gazes met. “What I’ve found is that unless I’m talking to someone else who served over there, explaining what war is like can be almost impossible. Easier to say that war is hell on earth.”

  “Are you sorry you joined?” Tonight was the first time they’d ever discussed her years in the military. Part of him was proud of her service. But parts of him winced at what she must have been through. Having known her all his life, hearing about these years where he was missing was painful, like punching a fresh bruise.

  Her eyes opened wide. “Never. Being a Marine is the best thing I ever did for myself. If I hadn’t left, I’m not sure…well…” She paused. “I was so unhappy. You knew that. My life had gotten to the point that it was either leave you or kill myself.”

  Her comment was a hard punch to his gut. The air rushed from his lungs. His hands and arms went numb. Leaning forward, he set the tumbler on the coffee table between them. “Oh God, Nessie.” He dropped his head into his hands and stared at the hardwood floor. “I’m sorry.” A sad chuckle escaped his throat. “Sorry is such a stupid word. It can’t begin to reflect the depth of my feelings.”

  The scent of her perfume preceded her joining him on the couch. Soft fingers stroked the back of his neck.

  “I’ll agree that you were a complete fool. Conceited. Vain. Self-absorbed. So wrapped up in your success that you didn’t have time to be married anymore.”

  His head lowered more. “Great pep talk. Let’s do it again soon.”

  “Let me finish.” She put her arm around his shoulders. “I was your wife. Your partner in life. I should never had put up with all your nonsense. I could have stood up for myself. I could have fought to save our marriage. I could have made us go to marriage counseling. Shoot, I could make a list of other actions I could have taken instead of running away, but that was how I faced adversity then. I ran. Lucky for me, there wasn’t a circus in town. Otherwise, I might joined it.”