by Cindy Dees
He squinted as a whoosh of flame erupted. That remaining bit of roof collapsed, crashing all the way to the bottom of the inferno. An angry column of sparks shot up into the night sky.
He pulled Kimberly close against his chest. Needles of pain pricked him as hot embers landed on his back, burning through his shirt.
And then the skid of the helicopter came into sight from above. Arms reached down for Kimberly and he handed her up. Then he passed up the RITA rifle, which somehow was still slung over his shoulder. Last, he climbed into the helicopter, landing with a solid thud upon the cool metal floor.
Something sleek and soft pressed against him from shoulder to knee. An instinctive, sexual knowing of that body flooded him and he opened his eyes.
Kimberly’s emerald gaze met his. He flashed back to the first time he’d landed in a helicopter beside her a lifetime ago. The same memory was clearly mirrored in her eyes, too.
“We made it,” he murmured to her.
In the orange glow from the mayhem he’d wrought below, he saw her gaze cloud over. A tear slid down her cheek. “At what cost?” she whispered.
He reached up to wipe her tear away, but the Blackjacks’s medic, Doc, intervened, asking her about her health. And then Doc was talking to him, asking him about his injuries. All he wanted to do was wrap Kimberly in his arms and never let her go, but too many people were in the way. He already missed her. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tex stood stiff and uncomfortable in an ornate room about to do the thing he’d once dreaded. Face Kimberly Stanton across a Senate hearing chamber. His dark blue Class-A uniform felt tight across his shoulders and his starched shirt and tie rubbed his neck. Time to pay the piper.
Kimberly’d done as she promised and, with her father’s help, launched a congressional investigation into her kidnapping and subsequent rescue. This afternoon he and she would both be allowed to testify about it before the Senate Arms Committee. Or ordered to, in his case.
Tex’s chest tightened as a dozen senators filed into the room and made their way toward their places. God, how he hated having his future rest in their hands. Unfortunately, in his line of work, controversial missions and occasional political fallout came with the territory.
Colonel Foley touched his elbow and directed him toward the table where he’d sit with the lawyer the Air Force had provided for him. His back was to the door when Kimberly walked into the room, but he felt her presence as surely as if she’d grabbed his belt again. He turned around.
The whole room came to a momentary halt as she stepped in, such was the impact of her beauty. And then the low buzz of muted voices started up again.
She looked stunning. Her hair was twisted up into some sort of knot, every golden strand perfectly in place. Her makeup accentuated her features and a dark green suit made her eyes glow as bright as the morning jungle. Every inch of her was cool and elegant, classier than he’d ever imagined she could clean up. And he had a pretty outrageous imagination.
Tex’s gut twisted into a hot knot as a good-looking, power-lawyer type took Kimberly’s elbow to guide her across the polished marble floor. Tex looked down. Yup. Three-inch spike heels.
He glanced up and she was looking at him. Her lips curved in the faintest of smiles and she nodded coolly at him. She remembered, too. The trickiest terrain men lead me across is a polished marble floor when I’m wearing three-inch spike heels.
She’d come a long way since then. He remembered everything about her, about their time together. He missed the feel of her sleek body against his. He missed kissing her. Hell, he missed fighting with her. He’d slept lousy every night of the two weeks since they’d been rescued. He kept hoping she would call, even though his lawyer told him the two of them couldn’t have any contact until after the congressional hearings were over.
He lay awake until all hours wondering what she was doing. Wondering if she thought about him at all. Or if she’d slipped right back into her hoity-toity world without even a backward glance for him.
As she slid gracefully into her seat, every inch of her perfect, he supposed he had his answer. She couldn’t even see a grunt like him from the stratosphere she orbited in. Grimly, he sat down beside his own lawyer as the session was called to order. He half listened to the drone of the chairman reading into the record the reason for today’s hearing.
And then Senator Norwood addressed him. “Captain Monroe, the members of this committee have read and reviewed your report concerning the kidnapping and rescue of Miss Stanton. Do you have anything to add to your statement at this time?”
Tex winced. Even in the dry language of official reports, his mission report made for condemning reading. Attacking and looting the guard in the truck, assaulting another soldier and tying him to a tree, and killing a third rebel outright from the cliff. And then came the good stuff—assuming incorrectly that Kimberly was the target, handing over the RITA rifle, and the night they got rescued—hell, he’d slit a man’s throat while Kimberly looked on.
He didn’t even want to guess how many men he’d shot. The damage estimates suggested in excess of a hundred dead and twice that many wounded out of that one night’s work.
He leaned toward the microphone and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “The only thing I would like to add to my report is how relieved I am that Miss Stanton was unharmed throughout her ordeal. If I had it to do all over again, I would do the very same things in order to secure her safe return.”
He caught Kimberly’s startled glance at him over her lawyer’s shoulder.
“Ahem, well yes, Captain,” the senator responded. “So noted.” And then the gray haired man turned to Kimberly. “During your unfortunate absence, this committee had ample time to review your proposal for the disbanding of irregular Special Forces squads like the one that rescued you. In light of your recent unique opportunity to observe a member of one of these units at work, do you have anything to add to your recommendations to this committee?”
Her voice slid across Tex’s skin like velvet. “Yes, Senator Norwood, I do.”
Here it came. Tex steeled himself for the charges he’d been told by his lawyer to expect her to level at him. He glanced at the pair of federal marshals positioned by the doors. He fully expected to leave in their custody this afternoon.
“My attorneys have written a complete brief that goes into more detail. We will file it after this session. But I have prepared a short summary of my observations and recommendations for you.”
The senator gestured for her to read it.
With a quick shuffle of her papers, she began. “‘During my time with Captain Monroe, I witnessed the full extent of his training. It encompassed skills in survival, escape, evasion, hunting, tracking, and multiple demonstrations of his physical prowess. He is highly intelligent and extremely resourceful, particularly in violent or dangerous situations.
“Additionally, I saw Captain Monroe engage in hand-to-hand combat, knife fighting, sniper-style shooting, and mass weapons combat. In short, he demonstrated amply to me that he is, in fact, the nearly unstoppable killing machine I once accused him of being.’”
Tex couldn’t help but flinch. To hear the woman he loved speak so emotionlessly, so damningly, of him and everything he’d worked so hard to be cut deep.
She continued, “‘I have had some time to reflect upon what I saw and have come to the following conclusion. We the people of the United States must do everything in our power to train and support Captain Monroe and the men and women like him who defend our nation so ably.”
Tex jolted as if an electric shock had just shot through his seat. A buzz erupted. It echoed off the chamber’s vaulted ceiling and rattled loudly inside his skull. She supported what he’d done?
Shock and elation warred for a position as foremost in his gut. Kimberly Stanton, anti-military lobbyist extraordinaire, holder of his heart, had not turned on him after all?
Senator No
rwood stared at Kimberly in surprise. “Am I to understand that you are completely reversing your position regarding the disbanding of military hit squads?”
“That’s correct, sir. Although I no longer feel it’s an accurate portrayal to label them hit squads.”
Another buzz, even louder than before. The chairman rapped his gavel for quiet. “I must say, you’ve taken us by surprise, Miss Stanton. Perhaps a recess would be in order for my colleagues and me to review your new position paper.”
There was a quick motion to that effect made and seconded by other committee members, and the hearing was adjourned.
And just like that, it was over. Tex sat in his seat, stunned. He wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that Kimberly would support him and the Blackjacks like that. A need to see her, to talk to her, to touch her—hell, to thank her—propelled him to his feet.
People swarmed all around him as he searched for her. Over the heads of the crowd pressing in on him, he saw an equally large throng mobbing Kimberly. He tried to push through the press of people, but got nowhere fast.
He vaguely registered Colonel Foley slapping him on the shoulder and murmuring his congratulations. His lawyer steered him toward the chamber doors. Away from Kimberly. But he wanted to talk to her! Hell, to get her phone number.
But the lawyer was politely insistent that Tex go outside and give interviews to the media. Good P.R. for the Air Force, and all that.
The press had latched on to the whole Tarzan and Jane nature of their ordeal and had been hounding him ever since the story hit the airways, trying to make some sort of hero out of him. He’d made one official statement that he was just doing his job and he’d dodged the microphones and cameras since then.
He and his lawyer reached the doors leading into the main corridor, and there the crowd abruptly stopped. The tall, double doors didn’t open on cue. A congressional page explained apologetically that there would be a bit of a holdup because the camera crews outside weren’t set up yet. Nobody had anticipated such a quick recess in this closed session, apparently.
Tex cooled his jets while reporters got into position and lights turned on. Kimberly must be looking forward to this press conference. She’d been plastered all over the news ever since they’d come home, and rumors were flying that she would announce her own bid to run for Congress any day. Riding the wave of being a hero had launched her father’s career; it would no doubt work for her, too.
A hand touched his arm and he spun around. He would know that touch anywhere.
“Kimberly.” His voice cracked. Dammit. His heart leapt into his throat as if he was some awkward teenager. He nodded politely, vividly aware of the staring eyes and straining ears around them, as they met for the first time since their return to civilization.
“How’s your leg?” she asked equally politely.
He looked deeply into her eyes. His feisty, smart, passionate Kimberly was still there beneath all the varnish. He could see that woman in her eyes. God, he’d missed her. “Leg’s good as new. Your pressure bandage really did the trick.”
She stared back, her emerald gaze brimming with words unsaid between them. “I’m glad.”
Someone jostled through the crowd, somehow managing to push through the crush of avid spectators to this little reunion.
“There you are, Captain.” A huge bear of a man held out his hand to him and boomed, “William Stanton. I wanted to thank you in person for bringing my daughter home to me.” He leaned close and slapped Tex’s shoulder, adding in an undertone pitched for Tex’s ears alone, “And I mean that in more ways than one, son. I owe you an enormous debt.”
Tex blinked, careful to betray nothing in his expression. He glanced over at Kimberly, who smiled fondly at her father. Had they made up? Were the rumors true that the elder Stanton was going to endorse his daughter’s bid for his old seat in the House of Representatives? A hundred more questions leapt into his mind.
“Three minutes til camera!” someone shouted.
Tex grimaced. Kimberly might love the limelight, but he wanted nothing to do with it. In some ways, hiding from the press had been harder than avoiding the rebels in the jungle.
Kimberly leaned close and murmured, “You don’t look too thrilled about going out there and facing the media.”
He rolled his eyes and murmured back, “I’d rather face a firing squad.”
“I know a back way out of here,” she breathed. “Wanna make a break for it?”
Kimberly Stanton skip out on all the bright lights and publicity? “Are you sure?” he asked in surprise. “Your career…the coverage…”
She rolled her eyes in turn. “There’s plenty more of that where it came from. Besides, it’ll probably make even more headlines if we sneak out of here together. What say we blow this popsicle stand?”
“You’re on.”
He followed her as she unobtrusively elbowed her way through the crowd. He rolled his eyes as she murmured something about going to the restrooms to make sure their makeup was right for the cameras. Their makeup? He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing makeup. God, he would never live down such a thing with his teammates.
However, the inane excuse had the desired effect. Everyone ignored them as they slipped to the back of the crowd waiting to leave the room.
“This way.” She led him across the chamber and out a small door that led to a series of smaller caucus rooms.
“Are these the infamous back rooms of Congress where all the deals get made?” he asked as they whisked through the maze of doors and corridors.
She grinned over her shoulder. “The very same.” She pushed open a door and they stepped outside onto a sidewalk. Alone.
Tex took his bearings quickly. “My truck’s right around the corner. Let’s get out of here before anyone realizes we’re gone.”
“Lead the way, Tarzan.”
He took her elbow and steered her across the street. “After you, Jane.”
He helped her into the pick-up truck and then slid behind the wheel. He breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled out into traffic. “Where to?”
She answered lightly, but he knew her well enough to hear the tension in her voice. “I seem to recall promising you the best seafood dinner on the East Coast if you’d clean a fish for me.”
He glanced over at her. Why was she so wired? Worried about being seen with him, maybe? Would that be so bad for her image? Probably. If she ran for Congress, she would be expected to date East Coast blue bloods with last names that were household words. His jaw tightened and he replied casually, “I also recall promising you a greasy hamburger with all the trimmings. What’s your preference?”
The moment stretched out, a microcosm of their two clashing worlds. A four-star restaurant versus a greasy spoon. It was a no-brainer which one she would choose.
“I’d like a hamburger,” she replied.
He about swerved into the curb and had to correct the car’s course hastily. He hadn’t seen that one coming.
He drove across town to Bud’s Brew House, the darkest, roughest beer joint he knew. Might as well test Kimberly’s resolve to go slumming. Not to mention Bud did serve up the best burgers this side of Jersey City.
Every biker in the place about threw their neck out of joint gawking at Kimberly when she walked in with him. He rested his hand lightly on the small of her back lest there be any question about whose woman she was. At the gesture, the regulars swiveled back to their beers. He’d busted up enough brawls here before for them to know he wasn’t a man to tangle with.
Bud’s was smoky and loud, and the vinyl seats in the booth were sticky. But Kimberly merely shed her suit coat, unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse, and took out the clasp holding her hair up. The transformation was shocking as her golden hair cascaded down around her shoulders. She went from uptight politician to soft, sexy and all woman in the blink of an eye.
It almost hurt to look her, she was so beautiful. To think he’d ever dared to love her—who ha
d he been kidding? He scowled into the mug of beer the waitress sloshed down in front of him.
An awkward silence fell between them after the waitress left with their orders for burgers with the works and fries. He cast about for a neutral topic of conversation and failed. He settled for, “How’s your dad doing?”
“Good. We had a long talk. He told me about some of the stuff he did in Vietnam. We talked about why it messed up his head so bad.”
Tex flinched. “I’m sorry, Princess.”
“For what?”
“I gave you enough nasty memories to mess up your head for a good long time to come.”
She shrugged. “I’ll live. I talked to my dad about what happened in Gavarone, too. He helped me see you didn’t do anything that wasn’t necessary.”
“You mean I didn’t kill anyone I didn’t have to,” he amended for her. “After all, I am a nearly unstoppable killing machine.”
She frowned at her iced tea and fiddled with the lemon. Kimberly only fidgeted when she was nervous. He made her nervous? Damn. That was no way to win her back.
“It’s an expression, Tex. A sound bite for the media. You’re no more of a killer than I am.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I single-handedly reduce the population of Gavarone by a measurable amount a couple weeks back? I’d say that qualifies me as a killer.”
She gazed at him, unperturbed. “Are you planning on wallowing in guilt until you break like my father, or are you going to face reality? You did what you had to.”
He leaned back in the booth, nonplussed. She really hadn’t reversed political positions on the military for the sake of winning votes. She’d meant it! It was almost too stunning to believe. He asked skeptically, “You’re defending what I did? Since when?”
“Since I talked to Colonel Foley about the full capabilities of the RITA rifle, and since I talked to the other guys on your team about what you guys do.”
