He and Mattie had had such dreams—they’d get married after graduating high school, and he’d work on his father’s ranch while she got her degree to teach kindergarten in Van Horn, ten miles from the Diamond R ranch. She loved children more than life, almost as much as she loved him. But all he’d ever done was to bring Mattie disappointment.
And now, he risked disappointing her again because he was going to ask her to help him, and then he’d have to leave her. Again. She wouldn’t ask the questions Sage would because she wasn’t a type A personality like his sister. Fortunately, she was an easygoing, laid back Type B, a safe harbor for him. Around her, he could always lower those high, nearly impenetrable walls he kept up to shield himself from his abusive father.
Right now, though, Mark knew he had no choice but to see her. His wounded arm had to be stabilized. Thank goodness Mattie had taken a training course in administering emergency medical aid just in case one of her students got sick or hurt. Mark hoped they’d taught Mattie how to set a broken arm.
Two days earlier, he’d walked unexpectedly back into her life to warn her that Cardona was going to use the Rocking L road to avoid the US Border Patrol check points and known areas where they looked for drug runners. When Mark had entered her kindergarten class, he’d thought she’d be alone. But Mattie had another woman with her, Tal Culver. Instantly, Mark’s radar flashed on because the Culver woman was a helluva lot more than who she seemed to be.
She wore a medical boot on one foot and lower leg, but his operator’s senses warned him she was damned dangerous to him. Sensing her, feeling her rock-solid confidence gleaming in her eyes, instantly assessing him like a sniper would, he groaned internally. She looked like she was from the military.
This was Christmastime. Had his best friend Wyatt, who’d been in the Navy SEALs, brought her home with him? Was she also black ops, like Wyatt? Mark would bet money that Tal Culver was all of that—and more. She was potentially dangerous to him and to his undercover work. If she was black ops as he suspected, she could eventually dig into top secret files and be able to reveal what he was really doing—and that just couldn’t happen.
This realization stopped him from being more warm and open with Mattie, who had been washing out tempera paint from glass pint jars at the sink when he’d quietly entered the premises. He felt danger around this unknown woman, and was confused about who she was until Mattie introduced her as Wyatt’s fiancée. That didn’t ease Mark’s concern: between her military training and her game face, he felt tense. Plus, he had another set of ears listening to what he wanted to tell Mattie in confidence. He couldn’t do it with another set of ears around.
The meeting with Mattie had gone downhill from there. He’d been cold and abrupt, warning her that Cardona was going to drive through the Lockwood ranch property at one corner two nights from now. He’d asked her to warn the Lockwood family. Knowing that Wyatt was home for the holidays from gossip he’d picked up earlier, Mark knew she would get the word to him. Wyatt was an ex-SEAL, and he knew his old friend would decode his words in a heartbeat.
What he didn’t want was for Wyatt or anyone else from the Lockwood family to be out in that area when Cardona’s men drove his trucks down the road that skirted around the Guadalupe Mountains on their ranch property.
He knew he’d been right when Wyatt had shown up in full battle gear for the fracas. At that point, all Mark was focused on was keeping his friend from being shot by the drug soldiers who would kill Wyatt or anyone else who might interrupt their operation. Mark knew Wyatt wouldn’t stand down on this op, that he’d take part in it. Texans didn’t take lightly to trespassing on their ranch property and Wyatt was the oldest son in the family. Yeah, he knew Wyatt would show up here to stop Cardona’s men. At least, he’d saved his friend’s life and Tal would have her fiancé back. Besides, it was Christmastime and only good things should happen now for that family, not bad ones.
Making it to the darkened highway, he began a fast jog toward Van Horn, eight miles away. He could easily make a series of ten-minute miles toward his destination. As a Marine Recon, he was used to carrying a fifty-pound pack on his back while on his missions. All he had to do was get off the highway if he saw headlights coming his way, since Mark did not want to be spotted by any traffic.
Usually at this time of night, there was none. But more US government vehicles could be speeding this way, called in to help with the survivors found in those semi-trucks owned by Cardona.
His heart turned toward Mattie. The least he could do was apologize for his abrupt behavior two days ago. How he ached to see her, to be near her. But to do that could put her and her entire family in danger from Cardona. The drug lord had spies in every Texas town along the border.
Mattie was his touchstone, the one person in his life he could never be without. And yet, he was about to disappear again from her life without an adequate explanation.
How would she react to him banging on her front door in the middle of the night? Would she even let him in? Mark wasn’t sure after the debacle at Mattie’s kindergarten school with Tal Culver. More than anything, he needed Mattie—more than life. She owned his heart and she didn’t even know it.
*
Mattie groaned, hearing a soft knock at the door of her home. Pushing her red hair away from her face, she sat up in her pink, flannel granny gown. It kept her warm during the winter months and she could turn down the heat in her small, twelve-hundred square foot home to save money. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she checked the clock. It was 3:15 a.m. Who could be knocking at her front door at this hour?
Something was obviously wrong. She slid her feet into her soft, sheepskin fleece slippers. Trying to wake up—which was never easy without at least two cups of coffee—she hurried through the living room and went to the front door. She looked through the peephole and saw Mark Reuss standing there, his face sweaty and drawn, with that perennial black baseball cap he always wore on his head.
Mark! Mattie quickly turned off the porch light, not wanting anyone to see him standing there. Mattie was often the subject of local gossip. After all, she was twenty-eight years old and no longer married. The townspeople were very family oriented, and often she would be asked if she wanted her own family someday. Of course she did, but with the right man, not the wrong one. Pushing her divorce out of her mind, she quickly opened the door, pushing the screen open.
“Mark?”
“Hey, I’m sorry to wake you at this time of the morning. Can I come in, Mattie? Please?”
“Of course,” she murmured, stepping aside. As he passed her, she smelled odd scents reminiscent of gun powder. She had turned on a lamp in the living room, and it gave off just enough light for her to see him clearly. He was wearing a black tactical vest, black pants, and a black shirt. There was dust covering his lower legs. What had he been up to? He was still wearing that beard.
“What happened to you?” she asked, locking the door and turning to face him. She saw him holding his left forearm against his body. His usual, darkly-tanned skin was now pale.
“I was in a rollover accident,” he lied. “I think I’ve broken my lower arm, Mattie. I know you’re an EMT. Can you help me? Then I’ll be on my way.”
“Your truck rolled over?” she asked, disbelieving.
“Yeah.”
She frowned. His story didn’t make sense. He was lying to her. Again. She put the lie aside and said, “Let’s get you to the bathroom so I can examine your arm.” Mattie knew that if his truck had rolled over, a fire truck with an ambulance squad would have been called, and he’d have received help at the scene. Then, they would have brought Mark to their small hospital, if necessary. What had really happened? What was he covering up and not telling her? She remembered his warning from two days ago.
Compressing her lips, she followed him into the bathroom. She’d lived in this house for years. Four months ago, Mark had abruptly walked out of her life. Not that he’d been in it that much since he’d left for
the Marine Corps at eighteen and returned home at twenty-eight.
Nine months earlier, he’d finally come home to stay. Then, he’d walked away from her again. He’d taken a job as a wrangler on a nearby ranch and she wondered if he’d been fired from it. Mark hadn’t said, but gossip was rife in the town after that. He said El Paso was a place to find a good paying job and he was gone once more.
Mark flipped on the light in the bathroom and moved aside to allow her to pass him. The area was fairly large, with sparkling white tiles on the floor, the room a pale lavender with wispy looking, feminine curtains at the window. Quickly pulling the Velcro open on his tactical vest, he slipped out of it, dropping it to the clean floor. Mattie was gathering several first-aid items out of a nearby cabinet and setting them on the long, white-marble counter where he stood near the water basin.
“Thanks for helping me out,” he said gruffly. His black t-shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging to his lean, hard body.
“You need some help getting that long-sleeved shirt off?” she asked, coming over to help him. She could see him trying to favor his left lower arm.
“Yes, thanks,” he admitted, allowing her to help ease the shirt off his shoulders. When Mattie came around to his left side, she opened the button on the cuff and gently pulled the fabric off his injured arm. Mark got his first look at the break and heard her swift intake of breath.
“How long ago did this happen?” she asked, leaning over, studying the swollen, bruised area. Her need to touch Mark was still strong, and as she slid her fingers lightly on either side of the break, a frisson of yearning exploded through her.
“About two hours ago,” he said.
“I need to examine it more closely, Mark.”
He sat down on a nearby stool, placing his arm on the counter to give it some stability. “Go ahead.”
“It might be painful,” she warned.
“What isn’t painful about my life, Mattie?” He lifted his chin, staring into her eyes. “I’ve had lots of experience in that area.”
Her mouth flexed in silent agreement with his statement as she gently palpated the area, feeling him begin to tense. “I know you and Sage had a horrible childhood. As far as I’m concerned, Jeb was a monster.”
“He still is,” he managed, more pain throbbing up his arm as she slowly began to press the pads of her fingertips along the edge of the swollen tissue.
As careful as she tried to be, Mattie couldn’t keep her feelings from spilling over and flooding through her. Just being able to touch Mark made her lower body tremble. She placed her hand on his tense shoulder after the examination. “I think you have a green break, Mark. That means the bone cracked laterally, but didn’t actually snap or break the bone in two. I don’t feel either of your two, lower-arm bones displaced, either.”
“That’s good news,” he said, slowly opening and closing his hand, feeling more pain from the flexing movement.
She turned. “You need to get it X-rayed to be sure, but you know that.”
“Yeah, they taught us EMT-level medicine as Recons,” he agreed. “But I’m not ready to do that yet.” He stopped, thinking of his next words. “Look, Mattie, I’m here because I trust you. I’ll get the X-ray later. I promise.”
His gaze followed her as she dug into another drawer, drawing out an air splint. It was a plastic device to stabilize a wound. Mattie would place it around his break as a temporary measure. “This air splint will help you a lot. You also need to take two, eight-hundred milligram tablets of ibuprofen for the swelling, and the pain should begin to recede,” she said. Frowning, she added, “But first, I’m going to gently wash your lower arm before I put this on.”
“I can do that, Mattie. Just give me a wash rag, put some soap on it, and turn the water on, okay?”
“Sure,” she murmured. She’d been eager for another reason to touch him, but Mark was restless and moved around on the stool, always looking warily out the door, waiting … watching. For what? For whom?
This had been their problem—Mark never told her anything and she knew he was living in a shadowy world of some kind. She needed to talk to her older brother, Wyatt, about this. He was black ops, too, and might be able to shed some light on why Mark, for the last four months, had disappeared from Van Horn for that truck driver job in El Paso.
Now, Mattie produced a clean washcloth and brought the water to a pleasant temperature, then scrubbed soap into it, and handed it to Mark. He grimaced as he lightly washed the area, including the swollen area around the break.
“Be more gentle with yourself, Mark,” she chided, sliding her fingers across his shoulder. Just touching him was a salve to her broken heart.
It wasn’t that he’d visited that often while he was still there in town, but he would drop in and see her at the kindergarten at least once a week. How she’d anticipated those few minutes he’d spend with her, even though he treated her as a friend, nothing more.
“Gentle? That’s a word of yours I recognize, Mattie.” Mark gave her a slight, pained grin as he rinsed his arm beneath the faucet.
Getting a small towel, she said, “Let me do this, okay?” She turned off the faucet, wrapping the towel lightly around his lower arm. “There,” she murmured, “now let it dry for a minute and then I’ll place the splint around it.”
He glanced at the watch on his right wrist. “I need to leave soon, Mattie,” he told her firmly, eager to get going.
“You don’t have a truck to drive, so where do you think you’re going?” She hated herself when she used logic to let him know that his weak alibi was just that. But didn’t she deserve the truth? Anger and frustration flashed in her eyes, and she held his gaze. How she wished she could figure out what he was thinking and feeling!
Mark had been closed up all his life, but Mattie understood why. Jeb, his violent father, had beaten him at least weekly with that belt he wore. She’d seen it happen sometimes, and sobbing, she’d turned and run away, hiding in one of the big barns behind their red-brick ranch house.
“I’ll find me a ride,” he said, falling silent.
Lifting the towel away, she picked up the splint. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
He was so closed up that Mark reminded her of a castle without a draw bridge. If Mattie didn’t ask a lot of questions, Mark would say nothing. People just couldn’t get close to him. And God knew, she wanted to wrap her arms around him, hold him, and let him know she loved him.
“I am thirsty, yes,” he admitted.
“I’ll get you some water.”
“Thank you, Mattie.” He held her worried gaze. “You’re a damn good medic. I’ll bet your kids can hardly wait to get a scrape so they can have your soothing hands on them.”
She closed the Velcro on the splint, smiling a little. “Half of stopping the hurt is just holding them, kissing their foreheads, and having my arms around them.”
“I sure can agree with that form of therapy.”
Startled by his statement, she blinked as he stood up. Trying to hide her surprise, she managed, “I have a cotton sling you can wear. That arm needs support. If you let it hang down, all the blood will go into your hand, and your fingers will swell up.”
“Right,” he murmured. “Got one in one of those drawers?” He gestured toward them.
“I do. Two of everything.” She bent down to retrieve a package.
“You’re like the SEALs,” he said. “They want two of everything. ‘One is none, two is one,’ is their motto, and in their world, they’re right.”
She opened the packet, pulling the soft, triangular piece of cotton cloth out of it. “Wyatt taught me that right after he graduated out of BUDs. The SEALs had it correct. You were black ops, too. You probably had two of everything, I’ll bet.” She moved in front of him, pulling the sling into position.
“No, I traveled light, Mattie. Maybe a thirty to fifty-pound pack on my back. I’d be out for weeks, scrounging off the land doing my job.”
You still are, she
thought, but resisted saying it. “There,” she murmured, lifting her arms away, so close to his body she could feel the heat rolling off of him. Mark lifted his arm and slid it carefully into the sling.
She stepped away. “How does it feel now?” she asked.
“Much better.” He gave her a tender look. “You’re a healer, Mattie. You always will be. I really appreciate you. Thanks for this.”
“Come on,” she urged, moving past him, “let’s head for the kitchen and I’ll get you that water.” If she didn’t move, she’d try to get him to stay so she could find out what was going on in his life. Even Sage didn’t know what he was up to, and that worried Mattie even more.
Aware of her shapeless granny gown, she tried to put thoughts of vanity aside and moved toward the kitchen. Nervously, she pushed her fingers through her long, shoulder length hair, feeling like a drudge.
Normally, she wore light makeup and kept her hair as orderly as she could, given its natural curl. How she wished she had on a nicer nightie right now instead of this frumpy granny gown!
Glancing out the window, she saw snowflakes tapping against it. Retrieving a glass from the cupboard, she filled it with water, and when she turned, Mark was standing a few feet away, an unfamiliar look on his face. There was no mistaking it, and she almost let the glass slip through her fingers as she registered pure, naked desire in his eyes.
“Here …” she managed, her fingers connecting with his as she passed the glass to him.
“Thanks,” he said roughly.
Mattie watched him drink thirstily, eagerly, until the water was gone.
“More?”
“Yes, please.” He handed it back to her.
“You’re going to miss that left arm of yours,” she said wryly, turning and filling the glass once more. “A green break takes four to six weeks to heal. You can’t use it, Mark, and if you try, you could snap the bone in two.”
“Okay, Doc,” he intoned, a brief smile on his face. Then it was gone.
Mattie could see the outline of his hard, male body beneath the damp t-shirt he wore. His chest was wide, his belly hard and flat, his hips narrow. He was a very sensual guy, Mattie observed. She wondered if he was aware of his charisma and how it affected women. Probably not.
Secret Page 2
