by Cindy Dees
His impulse to play amateur psychologist was huge. Every time she called herself crippled or told him what she couldn’t do, it set his teeth on edge. One of the first lessons of special ops was to think positive. Concentrate on what assets you have and what you can do with them. But it wasn’t as if Susan was going to listen to him anytime soon. She could hardly stand to be in the same state with him. Unless… He turned the idea over in his head. It might just work—a little reverse psychology to get Susan defending her abilities. It was worth a try. If that killer kiss last night hadn’t knocked the negative attitude out of her, not much else was likely to work.
One step at a time. First he had to gain her trust. Then he could show her how valuable a person she was. And then he could move on to the real challenge—gaining her forgiveness.
At least she was speaking to him now. It was an improvement over the past ten years of stony silence. He’d asked Tex once if she ever mentioned him, and her brother hadn’t hesitated in answering, “Never.”
He could only hope she wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t rescue her from the lonely, unhappy world she’d locked herself away in. Whether or not Susan wanted to admit it, there was definitely something simmering between them that still had to be dealt with. Something spicy and wild. Ten years ago their relationship had been sensational. But last night…that kiss had been in another class altogether. Hot. Racy. Unlike anything that had ever passed between them. He wanted to know more about this new Susan. A lot more.
But not here. Not now. They were in the middle of a dangerous situation, and he needed to make decisions with his head, not his libido.
Despite his assurances to her, this mission had a couple of serious problems. In the first place, they were undermanned. Tex was on a well-earned vacation with his fiancée, Colonel Folly had wrecked his leg and was out of the game for good, and it would be a couple more days before Doc and Howdy got back from Washington.
In the second place, Ruala was a highly dangerous opponent no matter what the environment, unpredictable and smart.
Protective worry for her surged in his gut. He would keep her safe. At all costs. And that was their third problem. The surest and fastest way to send a mission straight to hell was to inject personal feelings into the mix. They were distracting, caused undisciplined behaviors and were a general pain in the butt.
The way the other guys on the squad were standing back from Susan bothered him. Like he’d staked out his territory with her. He supposed Dutch could’ve made out with Susan instead of him while he tracked the scout…
Mac’s thoughts derailed abruptly. Damn. The very thought of Dutch doing with Susan what he’d done last night had just shot his heart rate up thirty points and sent a rush of hot, adolescent rage to his face.
He froze beneath her sleeping form. He was in trouble here.
Susan murmured sleepily, her hand wandering across his chest, her mouth nuzzling the base of his neck like a kitten seeking food. Her thigh rode higher, rubbing him in places that didn’t need to be rubbed just now. He gritted his teeth and tried to think of cold, painful things. It didn’t help.
“Take it easy, honey,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re killing me, here.”
Her reaction was violent. She lurched upright, awakening with a squawk of outrage. “How dare you let me do that!”
“How dare I…?” he spluttered.
“Yes! How dare you!”
He glared at her, matching her outrage. “How is it I’m to blame because you were crawling all over me in your sleep?”
She glared back at him. “You just are.”
“Hey. I’m out here putting my neck on the line to save your cute behind. A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt.”
“Gratitude? Why you arrogant…oaf! Why don’t you just go home?”
The insult bit a lot deeper than he wanted to let on. She’d been the one with the stellar future before her as a brilliant computer scientist. He’d been just a slogging soldier. Except now they were on his turf. This was his world, his area of expertise.
“An oaf, am I? Who found the scout last night? Who laid the false trail away from our camp to buy us time this morning?” He couldn’t shout, but he did lean forward until he was nose to nose with her. “Who spent the last three hours doing a perimeter check of this whole godforsaken corner of Texas so you could have a peaceful nap? And who spent a solid hour hauling water so your damn horses could have a drink?”
That made her blink. “They’re already watered?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled.
“Darn it, Mac Conlon! Just when I was sure I hated your guts, why did you have to go and do something thoughtful like that?”
He stared down at her, shocked. “Thoughtful? I was just doing my job. We need the horses, so I took care of the asset.”
“It was still kind of you to take care of them so quickly,” Susan declared.
He added slowly, “Do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed in the last decade?”
“No, and I don’t want to know. Thank you for watering my horses.”
“You’re welcome,” he mumbled. Kind? Him? Not hardly. Mac couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a woman who was completely unimpressed by his work. Yet here was Susan, tickled pink he’d watered her horses so quickly and totally disinterested in the number of people he’d killed. He couldn’t say that about most of the women he met. There was a certain security to his ego in knowing that his profession made him irresistible to enough chicks that he’d never have to worry about getting sex.
But what about being loved? The question crept insidiously into his consciousness and stuck there. He tried to shake it off, but it wouldn’t go away. What did he care about love? It was a weak emotion meant for women. Another thought wormed its way inside his head. Susan had loved him once. And it had been wonderful.
Dammit! He wasn’t going down that path again. Love had been great right up until the part where his whole life and hers had come crashing down upon his head. Would that damned night never end? Its horror stretched on and on in front of him, swallowing his whole life in that one, black moment.
All he had to do was close his eyes to hear the shots ringing out below him. A high-powered rifle. Ripping into the thin metal skin of the surveillance van like Godzilla’s claws. He could still feel the gut-wrenching nausea of realizing Susan was caught inside a tin-can death trap with bullets ricocheting around in it like pinballs. He’d never run so fast in his life. He had one lousy pistol on him. Nine shots. But by God, he’d knicked Ruala. Made the bastard take cover and then run before police arrived. More important, he’d backed Ruala off of taking any more shots at Susan.
He’d been out of his mind with terror when he literally tore open the van’s ruined door with his bare hands. He’d never forget the sight of Susan crumpled on the floor inside, lying in a huge pool of her own blood. He’d died inside. Right there on the spot. Until she took a single rattling breath. It was the longest couple of seconds of his life until she drew the next one. And then the paramedics had shoved him aside and hauled her away to the nearest hospital.
He still felt guilty as hell for not anticipating that she’d take the van and try to do the surveillance on Ferrare’s meeting by herself. He should’ve seen it coming. She’d been too smart to buy his line that Charlie Squad was just walking away from the mission. She was too confident, too focused on nailing Ferrare to walk away herself. He’d underestimated her. And the rest was history.
“Could you please step outside?” Susan’s voice intruded upon Mac’s bleak thoughts. He blinked as a tent came back into focus overhead.
“It’s my turn to sleep,” he protested. That probably didn’t make any sense to her. He tried again. “I’m supposed to be asleep right now. I’m taking the first watch tonight.” He didn’t add that he hadn’t slept at all last night and wouldn’t sleep tonight, either. He could go sixty hours without sleep if he had to, but it was no fun, and he’d rather skip the stimula
nt pills.
“You can sleep as soon as I’ve changed my clothes and freshened up. I’m wearing half the dirt in Texas right now.”
He supposed cranky was better than that long-suffering-victim mode of hers. Rather than burn any more time arguing with her, he just crawled out of the tent. He passed in a jug of water for her and stood up, surveying their position.
Susan eventually appeared beside him. “Go take your precious nap. I’m going to check on the horses.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly. It was probably just as well that she was being antagonistic. It made objectivity where she was concerned a whole lot easier to achieve.
Susan headed for the horses, a little farther up the valley. The task of brushing them usually was soothing to her, but today her thoughts kept going around in circles. She was supposed to hate Mac. But she kept remembering how good it used to be between them. Kept wanting to crawl all over him. Kept wishing he found her as attractive as she did him. But that was a dead-end road. She couldn’t get rid of the scars or the limp. Except when he’d put his arms around her and kissed her into oblivion last night, her imperfections suddenly hadn’t seemed nearly as important.
The horses’ coats glistened, and still she’d come up with no profound revelations. Frustrated, she headed back toward camp. A movement up the hill caught her eye. It was Dutch, stretched out on the ground, peering over the ridge through a pair of binoculars. She picked her way up to his position.
“See anything interesting?” she murmured.
He passed her the binoculars. “Look for yourself.”
She put the lenses to her eyes and another camp leaped into view. Ruala and another man stood by a truck, smoking. She recoiled sharply. “They’re so close!” she gasped, startled.
“They’re about a quarter mile away,” Dutch replied.
“What’s keeping them from just walking right into our camp?” she asked.
Dutch grinned over his shoulder at her. “Besides the fact that we’d blow their heads off if they tried it?”
She gestured at Ruala and his men. “They don’t know that.”
“They don’t know we wouldn’t do it, either. They’re being cautious. Ruala’s suspicious of us, but he’s not willing to chance a confrontation until he knows more about us.”
“And how will he learn more about us?”
Dutch shrugged. “He’ll try to draw us out, test us. We’ll no doubt play some cat and mouse games with him tonight.”
“You sound like you’re looking forward to that.”
He grinned wolfishly at her. “I am.”
Susan shuddered. She didn’t like being a mouse one bit. Especially with a deadly cat like Ruala camped over the next hill.
“Can I bring you anything, Dutch?”
“Nah, I’m fine. But you could…”
“What?”
“Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“What were you going to say?” she prompted. “It was about Mac, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he answered reluctantly. “Back off a little, okay? He hasn’t slept much since the colonel told us you were in trouble. He didn’t get any sleep last night, and he’s going to be up all night tonight.”
She hadn’t realized…and she’d been snippy to him about taking a nap, too. Sheesh. She owed him an apology.
“Thanks for telling me, Dutch. I’ll leave him alone.”
“No problem.” The Viking trained his binoculars on his quarry once more.
She puttered around the camp, fidgeting really, trying to keep her mind off cats and mice until Mac woke up. He emerged from the tent just as the sun touched the western horizon.
Susan held out a canteen. “Water?”
He took the canteen and tipped it up. The tanned column of his throat caught her attention, its corded muscles contracting each time he swallowed. Lord, he oozed sex appeal.
He handed the canteen back to her. “Thanks.”
He sounded distant. Impersonal. Panic tickled her ribs. “Look, Mac. I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier. I appreciate you putting your neck on the line for me.”
He looked hard at her but didn’t say anything.
She swallowed her pride and added, “I’m sorry.”
He nodded briefly, acknowledging her apology. Shoot. Why did he have to go all strong and silent on her now, when she was laying her guts out to him? “Truce?” she asked.
He considered her grimly for a moment. Then his dimples flashed in that devastating grin of his. “Truce.”
Relief poured over her. She watched Mac sit down on a boulder and rip open a brown plastic pouch he’d dug out of his pack. He pulled out something that looked marginally like food.
“What’s that?” Susan asked dubiously.
“Supper,” he replied with obviously false enthusiasm. “Want an MRE of your own? It’s a ‘meal ready to eat.’ Seventeen hundred calories of prepackaged swill, but it’ll keep you going.”
“Aren’t you at least going to add water to that…stuff?”
He grinned. “We reserve that for gourmet occasions. I suppose this qualifies.” He pulled out another pouch and prepared it, adding water and squishing it around in the plastic pouch. In a cheesy Italian accent, he said, “For your dining pleasure, I geeva to you zee beefa ravioli.”
Susan grinned. “Dehydrated ravioli, huh? Sounds yummy.”
They ate in companionable silence. It felt shockingly familiar. Once upon a time they’d been so attuned to each other that words weren’t necessary to share their thoughts. An insidious warmth seeped through her as the moment drew out. She ventured a glance up at Mac, and he was looking at her, a curious expression in his eyes. She’d almost describe it as affection, if that weren’t the farthest thing from what he must feel for her. She looked away, but the warmth persisted.
When they finished eating, Mac gathered the food packaging and stowed it in a saddlebag. He sat down on his rock once more. “Talk to me about the horses, Suz.”
Susan blinked. Just like that, the charming man she used to know and love was replaced by this hard, businesslike warrior. She replied, “They’re tired but not hurt. As long as they get plenty of water and rest, they’ll be fine. Right now, they’re grazing some grass I found.”
“When will they be ready to go again?” he asked.
“It depends on what you mean by going. They could move tonight if they had to, but I wouldn’t do more than walk them.”
Mac shook his head. “When we move again, we’ll go hard, like we did this morning. How long until they can do that?”
Susan flinched. They were going to have to do that to her lovely Arabs again? “They’ll need at least twenty-four hours of solid rest before they give another maximum effort.”
Mac nodded. A frown of intense concentration wrinkled his brow. She’d never doubted that Mac was highly intelligent, and it was gratifying to see him apply his formidable intellect to the work. She only wished their lives didn’t depend on it.
He spoke abruptly. “Dutch has the right idea. We’ll mess around with these guys tonight. Ruala should back off by daylight tomorrow. We’ll rest through the day, and then leave tomorrow night.”
“Please tell me we’ll be heading back to the ranch,” she said.
“Yes, we will. Okay, now for our next problem.”
When he didn’t continue, Susan asked, “And that is…”
“You.”
“Me? And here I was trying so hard not to be a pain in the neck.”
“It’s not that,” Mac answered, grinning reluctantly. “Dutch is tied up doing surveillance on our visitors. I need to go set up a few traps in the hills, but I don’t want to leave you alone in camp. If Ruala moves on us, Dutch might not be able to get back here fast enough from his current position to pull you out.”
“So take me with you.” It seemed like a perfectly simple solution to her. Except Mac tended to treat her like some porcelain doll in constant need of protecting.
He
looked hard at her. His gaze strayed down to her leg. “I dunno…”
She winced as liquid shame pooled in her gut. “I try not to let it stop me from doing much,” she said quietly. She would not beg. And she would not argue. Not with a killer waiting for her just over that hill.
He gave her a long, assessing look and then finally nodded slowly. “Okay, then. You’ll go with me.”
Wonderment wiped her brain blank. He’d said yes? He was letting her go with him to do his work? “Great!” she said brightly to cover her utter amazement. “It’ll be fun. I’ve always wanted to know how to lay a booby trap.”
He scowled. “This isn’t fun and games. People will die tonight if anyone gets stupid. You could die.”
She met his worried gaze head on. “I know, Mac.”
He looked away first. And sighed. “Why don’t you go check the horses while I get my bag of tricks and radio Dutch.”
She was annoyed he wouldn’t let her carry any of the gear until she lifted his pack by one of the shoulder straps a few minutes later. It weighed a ton. “Good grief! What’s in this thing? Bricks?”
Mac crouched in front of her, surveying a small pile of rocks by the side of a natural path in the rocks. Without looking over his shoulder, he replied absently, “Explosives. Detonators. Wire, batteries, pliers, timers, det cord…”
Susan gulped. She watched, fascinated, as Mac fished around in his pouch by feel with one hand. He came up with a gob of gray putty. He rolled it into a cone shape and wedged it carefully between the rocks. He poked a blasting cap into the putty and ran an olive-green, gossamer-thin wire across the path about twelve inches off the ground. He secured the far end of it on the other side of the trail.
“What is this going to do?” Susan asked.
“I’ve put just enough of a directional charge in there to make those rocks roll down into the path. They’ll knock down whoever trips this wire and make a lot of noise.”
“What if an animal hits the trap?”
Mac grinned over his shoulder. “Never fear, Miss Greenpeace. There’s too much fresh scent of humans here for many critters to be wandering around this valley tonight. They’ll stay well away from the area.”
