by Cindy Dees
His boss’s logic was sound. Although, knowing Ruala, the bastard would probably come in with a small army the next time. The assassin was a bulldog when it came to getting the job done. It was part of what had made him one of the deadliest killers in the world. He’d keep gunning for a guy until he got his kill.
The colonel was speaking again. “Will the four of you have sufficient juice to take on Ruala and his men?”
“I think so,” Mac answered.
Folly replied, “We were hoping to get the indictment handed down by a grand jury tomorrow. Let me call the judge and see if I can get the whole thing expedited. Either way, I’ll put Doc and Howdy on a plane for Texas as soon as I get off the phone. They’ll be in place no later than midnight tonight.”
Mac breathed a sigh of relief. The odds for the good guys had just gotten measurably better. He thanked his boss and terminated the call.
Susan gave him a funny look. “Is now a good time for that talk I asked for last night?” she asked.
His pulse jumped in consternation. He had no clue what to do about her, and he certainly wasn’t ready to talk about it. Keep the Protectee Calm. He nodded in resignation and led her away from their camp.
He moved out of earshot of Dutch and picked a spot where he could scan the area with the binoculars he’d brought along. He gave Susan a hand in sitting down and was surprised that she let him help until he looked down and saw the swelling under her pant leg. “Jeez Louise, Susan! Why didn’t you tell me your knee was in trouble?”
She glanced down at the melon-size lump where the joint should have been. “It does this whenever I seriously overuse it. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? That’s got to hurt like hell!”
She shrugged.
His generalized worry for her safety metamorphosed abruptly into anger. “You ought to take better care of your leg,” he growled. “When’s the last time a doctor saw it? Hell, with all the new medical advances these days, I bet there’s some way you could get a joint that’s fully functional for heavy athletics.”
“I’m fine the way I am,” she retorted.
“How can you say that?” He waved a hand at her knee. “Look at that. It’s a wreck!”
“Why do you suddenly give a damn about my knee beyond its impact on the mission, Mac Conlon?”
He stared at her, frozen by her pointed question. Why was he so worked up all of a sudden? The answer came to him, and his anger drained away as quickly as it had come. He answered quietly, “Because we’re not just talking about your knee, here.”
She looked as if he’d just slapped her. Her voice shook when she spoke, but he couldn’t tell if it was in outrage or hurt. “Why should I take better care of my knee? So I can look pretty and walk nice for all the hundreds of guys who are busting down my door trying to get to a scarred cripple like me?”
Outrage. That was definitely outrage in her voice. Which meant she was trying to hide the hurt. “A scarred cripple?” he asked gently, his heart breaking a little. “Is that what you see when you look in the mirror?”
“I don’t live my life feeling sorry for myself, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m okay with who I am and I have a decent life. But the fact is, I don’t happen to perform well in the dating and marriage market.”
He snorted. “Good grief, woman. You’re drop-dead gorgeous. You’ve got a sensational figure and the most remarkable eyes I’ve ever seen. They look right inside a person’s soul. You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re kind and honest. What the hell makes you updateable or unmarriageable?”
She shook her head, a look of exasperation on her face.
“Suzie—” he dropped to a knee in front of her “—listen to me. I’m not BSing you, here. I’m not suggesting you have lousy self-esteem. I’m saying you have a lousy opinion of how smart men are. When they—we—look at you, we see a woman who completely qualifies as girlfriend or wife material.”
“Yeah, and that’s why I’ve been beating off swarms of them with sticks over the past ten years.” She glared at him. “You’re so blinded by your compulsion to fix everything that you can’t see what’s right in front of your eyes.”
He frowned. “What compulsion?”
“It’s called a superhero complex. You believe you can fix everything that’s wrong with the world. While I admit that sort of self-confidence probably comes in handy in the course of doing your work, there’s a limit to your powers. You can’t fix my life. I’m responsible for me. Not you.”
He protested, “I’m not trying to fix your life. I’m only stating the facts.”
She went on the offensive. “Like the fact that you’re darn near drowning in guilt that you broke up with me right before I got shot? Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t think you drove me to get in that van and land in the middle of the Ferrare sting.”
He stared at her, flummoxed. “But I did drive you to do it.”
“Mac Conlon, you did no such thing. You told me in no uncertain terms to go away from you and from the op. It was purely my decision to go solo and do the surveillance on Ferrare that night.”
“But you weren’t thinking clearly. You didn’t know about the sting. If I’d told you—”
“I might very well have decided you were lying about there being a sting operation and done exactly what I did, anyway,” she declared.
He frowned. She was arguing for the sake of argument here. Her logic wasn’t sound. “You had no reason to think I’d lie to you about there being a sting operation.”
She stared at him coldly. “Wanna bet?”
He met her glare with one of his own. “Yeah. Why in the hell would you think that?”
“Because you’d already lied to me that night when you said you were over me.”
He rocked back on his heels. She might as well have punched him in the solar plexus. He stood up, struggling to breathe, too agitated to sit still. She knew all along? She knew? He slogged back and forth across the gravel-strewn slope.
And finally he sat down heavily beside her. “How did you know?” he asked in dismay.
“I might have been young, Mac, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew what we had going between us. I wasn’t a groupie chick any more than you were having a casual fling with me. But for some reason, you decided to walk away from me. So, you lied through your teeth and came up with that lame story to get rid of me.”
He stared at her in open shock. Sonofa—
She interrupted his train of thought. “Why wouldn’t you have thrown in some equally lame claim that you and Charlie Squad were going to take out Ferrare, just to make your lie about dumping me sound more believable, or at least more macho? Telling me about the sting wouldn’t necessarily have changed anything I did.”
Astonishment rendered him equal parts numb and stupid. It couldn’t be. For ten years he’d wrestled with what happened that night, with the guilt of pushing her into a situation that maimed her and nearly killed her. And here she was, claiming he’d done no such thing! It was too much for his mind to take in.
“Why’d you do it, Mac?”
He looked up at her. “Do what?” His brain felt like mush and was processing information about as well as mush at the moment.
“Why did you lie to me? Why did you break up with me like that?”
“I was ordered to. Folly had a feeling the sting was going to go down ugly and he needed to get you far away from it for your own safety. He told me to drive you off, to push you away from the op, and to use whatever means were necessary to do it.” God, it was a relief to have finally said that to her.
Susan stared at him, absorbing the information. Funny, but she didn’t act nearly as surprised as he’d thought she’d be. In fact, she nodded as if she’d expected those very words. And said, “I thought that might have been the case. I hoped it was, at any rate. I’d hate to think you believed all those awful things you said about me.”
He exploded. “If you knew, then why in the hell did you barge into the
middle of the sting and get yourself shot?”
She smiled sadly. “You were partially correct. I wasn’t thinking clearly that night. It didn’t occur to me as I watched you walk out of my apartment that you guys would move so aggressively to set up the sting that fast. That part I didn’t see coming. But afterward, in the hospital, I had a lot of time to think about everything. That’s when I figured out that Folly must have ordered you to dump me.”
Mac sighed. “In the colonel’s defense, he didn’t order me to dump you. He only told me to push you far, far away from the op, and to do it before the sting went down.”
Susan stared at him for a long time in silence. And then she asked abruptly, “Why didn’t you ever come back to me?”
“After what I did to you? If you’ll recall, before I left your apartment you did say you never wanted to see me again. Plus, I felt responsible for thrusting you into the middle of the shoot-out. I figured you’d hate my guts for that. And then when I tried to see you at the hospital, you told me to go away.”
“And that was enough to drive off the superhero for good?” she asked derisively. “Maybe it’s just as well you never came back if you’re that easy to discourage.”
Her words stung like needles. He spluttered, “But Tex… He said you were furious…said you refused to talk about me—”
Susan interrupted. “I was furious. Furious you were avoiding me. Furious you didn’t come back for me sooner after the op was over. That you preferred to run around a jungle chasing Ferrare and Ruala than spend time with me.”
Her words hit him like body blows. Gut punches that knocked the wind right out of him. Made him sick to his stomach. “But I did that for you. I thought you’d want them caught.”
“I did—I do—but I needed you with me more.”
“Well, hell,” he managed to gasp. “I really blew that one but good.”
She glared at him.
Sonofagun. She’d wanted him. Loved him even after he shattered her world and her knee. After he’d lied to her and walked out on her. But she hadn’t forgiven him for feeling too damn guilty to come back and face her immediately. For not fighting harder.
Where were they supposed to go from here? Was there a chance he could salvage the relationship with her? But how? He’d been a complete shmuck without even realizing it. Dammit, he thought he’d done the right thing by staying away from her. He thought he’d done a noble thing to suck up his grief and loss and pain and leave her alone.
Susan shook her head. “I can practically see your mental wheels turning. You’re sitting there, trying your damnedest to figure out some way to make it up to me, aren’t you? Well here’s a news flash for you, big guy. Don’t bother. I don’t need an apology, and I got over you a long time ago. You and I are ancient history.”
Now who was the one lying? Maybe he was just in denial, but he’d bet his life savings she’d been waiting to deliver that line for a good part of the last decade. He’d also bet it was just a line. Delivered out of wounded pride and anger. He’d seen the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He’d felt the way she unraveled in his arms. They had an ancient history to be sure, but they had something powerful now, too.
Question was, would she admit it? Would she let what was simmering between them grow into something more? He’d hurt her. Bad. It was a lot to overcome.
He looked her square in the eye and said patiently, “Yeah, I deserve that line. But honey, I don’t buy it for a second. Go ahead and take your mad out on me. When you feel better and are ready to move ahead with our relationship, you let me know. Because I’m not going anywhere this time.”
She scowled at him. Apparently not the reaction out of him she’d been hoping for. She said raggedly, “If you want to do penance for your sins, do it somewhere else. I don’t need to go down this road with you again.”
Her words were dagger blows straight to the jugular. Damn, she was sharp. He was here looking for forgiveness. He had thought at some subconscious level that if he could save her this time, they’d be even somehow. As if bailing her out of this jam could make up for his playing a part in wrecking her life before. Right.
“I’m sorry, Susan,” he mumbled. “So sorry…”
“Don’t.” She cut him off with a sharp gesture of her hand. “No apology, nothing you could say, will ever make up for the past ten years.”
He staggered from the blow of her words. “You’re absolutely right,” he ground out. He whirled away, slipping and sliding toward the bottom of the hill. He paused maybe thirty feet away from her. And forced words past the silent scream of agony tearing at him. “Ruala and his men have left. The coast is clear for us to head back to the ranch. After Dutch catches a nap and the horses get some more rest, we can go.”
Susan nodded fractionally, her face averted from him.
Mac gritted out, “I’ll be back before dark.”
Unable to hold it together for another second, he whirled and headed away from her. Into the mountains. God, it was tempting to just keep on walking. To lose himself in the maze of gullies and canyons. To disappear forever.
But the toy soldier was too damn well trained to do that. Bitterness soured his stomach. Mechanically, he found a high perch with good cover and panoramic visibility. He lay down and peered through his binoculars, not seeing a blessed thing before him. Instead, wounded, angry eyes stared back at him, wide and green.
Sonofabitch. He’d really screwed things up good this time. He really ought to just pack up and go home. Leave the mission to Dutch and the others. It wasn’t as if he was in any shape to do a bit of good out here.
But dammit, he couldn’t walk away from her again. He wouldn’t. Even if she cracked his chest open and physically tore his heart out, if that’s what it took to make it up to her, by God he’d let her do it.
How in the hell was he supposed to keep her safe when she was busy destroying him from the inside out? He was going to blow this mission. A Tango One down the tubes because he was self-destructing over Susan Monroe.
It was a quiet ride home. Really quiet. Even after sleeping most of the day, Susan felt like she’d gone ten rounds in a boxing ring and didn’t feel much like talking. What the heck did Mac want from her? Absolution?
It wasn’t hers to give.
He didn’t owe her anything. He’d only followed orders—thank God that’s what his verbal attack on her that night had been, and not an actual case of him losing interest in her. If Mac had been honest with her instead of pretending to dump her, if he’d told her a dangerous sting operation was about to go down and they needed her to go away, would she have gone meekly like he asked? She’d been pretty brash in her youth. Pretty confident. Pretty sure she was immortal back then.
She’d also been violently protective of her little brother. She’d all but raised Tex herself when their mother abandoned them on an isolated ranch in West Texas with their depressed, overworked father. She couldn’t honestly say that she wouldn’t have sneaked up on the sting and tried to be there to save the only two men in the world she loved.
Why did Mac have to go and be so blasted understanding and patient on her now? It was almost as if he wanted her to fall in love with him again. Or more accurately, to rekindle the love for him that she’d never lost. But what earthly purpose would that serve? A man like him could have any woman he wanted. Surely he could do better than her. Her thoughts whirled, tangling into ever messier knots until she developed a throbbing headache.
Mac and Dutch were tense and stilted throughout the ride back to the house. She knew why Mac was wired, but Dutch? Were they worried about what they’d find when they got back? Mac said Ruala wouldn’t mess with them again for a while. Had he lied about that, too? Was he lying about everything? Damn him for confusing her like this!
The horses held up well for the return trip. It was mostly downhill, and once they got the scent of home in their noses they were hard to hold back. Her glowing watch declared the time to be about 1:
00 a.m. when, in front of her, Mac held up a closed fist. Apparently, that meant to stop, since Malika all but ran into the rear end of his horse when it skidded to an abrupt halt.
He and Dutch slid off their horses. Her knee was having no part of dismounting right now, so she stayed in the saddle, alarmed at the sudden stop. They were no more than a half mile from the ranch. It was just over the next big rise.
She leaned down toward Mac. “What’s up?” she murmured.
“I’m going to check out the ranch before we barge in as proud as you please,” he murmured back.
She rolled her eyes. These Special Forces guys seemed to enjoy making everything as difficult as possible. “Why don’t you just call Frank on your cell phone and ask him if anything’s going on? He’s staying at the house until we get back,” she asked with imminent logic.
“Can’t use my cell phone just now. It’s turned off. Doc and Howdy should have returned this evening. We need to make contact with them. I’d hate for them to shoot us as we ride in. Dutch is going to radio and get position fixes on them, and then I’ll have a look around for traps or other surprises from our end.”
“Can I come with you?” she asked, nervous at the prospect of sitting out here alone for any extended period of time.
Mac shook his head regretfully in the negative. “On this recon, I’ll be moving fast and quiet. But Dutch will stay with you.”
The rest of his answer hung unspoken in the cold night air. He’d be moving fast and quiet, and she wasn’t up to that sort of physical challenge.
After her terrifying experience the night before, she wasn’t quite as militant at the thought of hanging back while Mac went ahead and did a bit of his fancy commando stuff. But she still didn’t like the idea of not being able to keep up. She covered up her frustration by sighing and saying, “Let me guess. I’m supposed to stay here with Dutch and keep the horses quiet while you play cowboy and go scout for Indians.”
