by Mallory Kane
He knew going in that his rescue squad would be grossly outnumbered, but it looked as if he’d been right in his assessment of the situation.
Most of Novus Ordo’s rag-tag band of soldiers had scattered at the sight of Ordo with a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. They’d probably fled to higher and more remote caves. Obviously, they were braver carrying a suicide bomb than fighting hand-to-hand.
Ordo’s fatal mistake was that he hadn’t recruited soldiers—he’d recruited zealots.
Rook scooted backward awkwardly, still eyeing the carnage, alert in case one of the sprawled bodies moved or another soldier came into sight.
Finally he reached the opening. With difficulty, he pushed himself up to a crouched position and cautiously stepped inside. Empty.
He ran his hand down his right pant leg, feeling the blood that soaked it. Gingerly touching the painful wound, he decided it had stopped bleeding, which was a relief.
He limped across the stone floor, planted his back against the wall and angled around, leading with the automatic rifle he’d taken off one of the casualties.
The cave was dark, the air inside it still. It felt and sounded empty. Without breathing, he turned toward the corner where he’d left Irina.
“Stop!” she cried.
He froze. “Rina? It’s me.”
For an instant he heard nothing. Then a small sound, like a sob. “Is it over?”
“I think so.” He braced himself on his good leg and waited for her to throw herself into his arms. Once he felt her body, vibrant and warm against him, then he’d know for sure it was over. That they had survived. Then, he could reassure her.
But she didn’t run to him. He could see her, pale skin lighter than the shadows. She stood slowly and walked carefully toward him, cradling the rifle like an expert.
“Rina, are you all right?”
Without speaking, she stepped into the thin blade of light that shone from the cave opening. Her wide, blue eyes assessed him from head to toe. When they reached his legs, she gasped audibly, then raised her gaze to his.
“Who died in the planes?”
He gave her a small smile. “No one. They were drones. Piloted by remote control. I didn’t see any Americans on the ground, either, so I’m hoping we haven’t lost anyone. Most of Ordo’s men have scattered. We’ll never see them again. Brock and Deke should be here any time.”
“You lied to me,” she stated calmly.
“No, Rina—” He held out a hand, but she ignored it.
“Yes, you did.” She lifted the heavy rifle to her shoulder, aimed the barrel at his eye and lay her cheek along the stock.
He didn’t move. If she shot him, he couldn’t blame her. But it wasn’t her style. She wasn’t vengeful.
After a few seconds she lowered it again. “How many times do you expect me to watch you die?”
“Rina, you have to understand—”
“I do not have to do anything except endure until I can get home.”
He heard footsteps outside the cave. He turned, raising the rifle.
“Rook? Irina?” The voice was unmistakable.
“Deke,” he said on a relieved sigh. “In here,” he called.
Deke strode into the cave, dressed in desert camo with matching paint on his face. His dark eyes took in the tense scene immediately. “Everything okay?”
Rook nodded. “Anybody hurt?”
Deke shook his head. “A couple of guys got winged, but this new body armor is amazing.” He nodded at Rook’s leg with a frown. “I see you weren’t quite so lucky. We need to get that looked at.”
He glanced at Irina. “Irina? You’re all right?” he asked gently.
“I’m fine.” Her voice cut the air like a bayonet.
Deke’s head shot up a fraction. “O-kay. Good. Let’s get you two out of here and into one of the choppers.”
As if conjured by Deke’s words, the slap of helicopter blades hit Rook’s ears.
Irina heard them, too. She carefully set the rifle down on the floor of the cave and then addressed Deke.
“Is it safe to go out there now?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Deke replied. “Brock’s waiting right outside the tent.”
She turned and stalked out.
Rook waited, his mouth compressed into a thin line. Sure enough, as soon as she disappeared, Deke turned on him.
“I told you to tell her.”
“You’re out of line,” Rook said evenly. “You do not know my wife better than I do.”
“Oh, yeah? You still think she’s the innocent young daughter of Leonid Tankien that you brought out of the former Soviet Union. You still think she needs to be sheltered. But you’re wrong. That’s not who she is.”
Rook eyed his best friend and oath brother. Something scary filled his insides. Something he’d felt only a couple of times in his life.
Self-doubt.
Deke stuck his finger in front of Rook’s face. “See. You know I’m right. Hah. You’ve dug a deep hole for yourself this time, Castle. I told you not to hurt her. I hope you can dig yourself out. Now, let’s get that leg bandaged—” Deke paused, enjoying himself way too much “—unless you’re going to heal it with stubbornness.”
Rook pushed past his best friend and strode out of the cave, mustering as much dignity as he could. He’d have done a better job of it if his damn leg hadn’t been hurting so much.
Chapter Fifteen
Rook looked around the conference room at his two oath brothers. They were a little worse for wear, but they were alive.
“There was a time there when I wasn’t sure we were going to make it”
Matt nodded.
Deke leaned back in his chair.
“As soon as we get back from Washington, I want each of you to take your families on a long honeymoon. You’ve earned it. You deserve it.”
“Yeah?” Deke responded. “What about you?”
Rook looked over Deke’s shoulder at the big picture window. He rubbed his chin. “I’ve got a couple of things I need to take care of.”
“You need to take care of? What about Irina? If you want my opinion—”
He glared at his best friend. “I don’t.”
“Maybe not. But you need it,” Deke continued. “Matt, help me out here.”
Rook turned toward Matt, daring him to speak.
Matt didn’t look away, but he didn’t speak, either.
“Tell him, Matt. Tell him what an idiot he is, hanging on to his pride. How being too damn stubborn to admit he’s wrong could lose him the best thing that ever happened to him.”
Rook and Matt both turned toward their friend, whose face turned red. “Hey. It’s just my opinion.”
Rook shook his head. “I can’t fix this. I hurt her too much. Betrayed her too many times. She’ll never trust me.”
Deke growled. “You don’t give her enough credit. You never have.”
Matt pushed back from the table. “We’ve only got about twenty minutes before the limos get here to take us to the airport.
“I’ve got to make sure Aimee and William are ready.”
“Yeah,” Deke responded. “I need to say goodbye to Mindy. She’s not happy that the doctor won’t let her fly.”
“Why don’t you stay with her?”
“I would if she let me. But she’s threatened me with bodily harm if I don’t go to D.C. to meet the president.”
Rook nodded. “Thanks, guys. See you on the plane.”
SHE DIDN’T LOOK ANY DIFFERENT.
Irina stared at her reflection in the mirror, disbelieving. She turned sideways. The simple teal-blue jersey dress hugged her curves exactly the same way it always had. Her silhouette wasn’t any leaner—or curvier.
She leaned in closer, inspecting her face. No new wrinkles or gray hairs.
Of course it had only been three weeks since she’d found out her dead husband wasn’t dead. Twenty days. She shook her head. It felt like twenty years.
The tea
rs started again. She hadn’t been able to control them since she’d started the seemingly endless journey from Mahjidastan back to Wyoming.
She’d never cried so much in her life. Crying never helped anything, and it could be dangerous. She’d learned that during her childhood in Russia. Her mother, and later her father, had warned her countless times that if she cried, the soldiers would find them.
She yanked another tissue from the box and dabbed at her eyes, lecturing herself silently.
She heard a knock on the door to her suite.
“Come in,” she called, working to keep her voice steady. “My bags are ready to go.”
She quickly gathered up all the wadded tissue, cardboard packaging and other rubbish from the countertop and tossed it into the trash, looked at herself one more time and stepped out of the dressing room.
And stopped dead still.
It wasn’t the limo driver come to pick up her bags.
It was Rook. He was as handsome as ever in crisply pressed khakis and a green crewneck sweater that matched his eyes. The slight bulge of the bandage on his thigh was hardly noticeable.
She pressed her lips together and braced herself to meet his gaze. He was watching her warily, unsure of what she was going to do or say.
Good. He deserved to experience the fear and uncertainty she’d lived with for the past two years.
“You look beautiful—”
“Don’t,” she snapped.
His jaw tensed. “The limo will be here in a half hour.”
Smoothing her dress over her ribs and tummy with her palms, she took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m ready. Thank you.”
He didn’t move.
“There is no need for you to wait. I will be out in a few minutes. I just want to—”
“Rina, you’ve been crying.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Did he have to be so observant? So gentle? She hated the way he was acting—had acted ever since they got back—as if she were fine porcelain and he was terrified she might break.
Where was the arrogant commander who took charge and damn the consequences?
“We need to talk. You haven’t said two words to me since we got back. It’s been eight days.”
Her stupid tears were clogging her throat again. She swallowed hard. “Please go. I’ll be right out there—”
“No,” he barked.
Great. Now he pulled out his commander ammo.
She turned her back on him. “Go,” she choked. “I will get my purse.”
“I’m not leaving.”
He’d come closer. Too close. He put his hand on her arm. Any second now she was going to break down in front of him. And he’d be proven right. She was weak. She did need his protection.
She really couldn’t live without him.
She had only one line of defense left. She hadn’t wanted to tell him this so soon. She’d wanted to keep it a secret as long as she could, because it was the one weapon she knew would find its mark.
The one thing guaranteed to send him hightailing it away from her like a jackrabbit from a fox.
She whirled, her face only inches from his.
“I’m pregnant,” she spat. For the moment, abject terror and heavy dread dried up her tears.
He’d never wanted children. She’d always known that.
Early on, he’d listened when she brought it up. He’d never commented, but he had listened. In the months leading up to his death—his disappearance, rather—he’d refused to even talk about the possibility.
Now, standing so close to him she could feel his heat, she watched in fearful fascination as her words sank in.
His head moved almost imperceptibly, as if he were dodging a glancing blow. Then his brow wrinkled and his eyes glittered with something she couldn’t identify.
“You’re pregnant? How?” he shook his head.
She swallowed a giggle that could have just as easily been a sob. “How do you think?”
He shook his head slowly, dazedly. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I never thought—”
He dropped his gaze to his boots and rubbed his palm across his mouth, then shook his head again. “I never—”
Rook Castle, speechless? She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Anger? Indifference? But not this uncertainty.
The adrenaline rush of fear and dread was fading and the tears were pushing their way to the surface again. She felt one slip over her lower lid and tickle its way down her cheek.
Dammit. She swiped at it.
Rook pressed his knuckles against his lips, then looked up at her from under his lashes. After a second, his gaze drifted downward to her tummy and back up.
“You’re really—?”
She nodded, dislodging another tear. “I’m sorry. I know you never did want children. I understand why. I do. It was wonderful of you to marry me. You felt responsible, and I will always appreciate that.”
While she was babbling, Rook’s head shot up and his brows drew down in a frown.
“Rina, what the hell are you talking about?”
His eyes were glittering strangely, and his dark, thick lashes were matted, almost as if—as if they were wet.
“I—don’t know,” she answered.
“I’ve lived my life on the edge. I never thought it would be fair to a child. Especially after I saw every day what living that way had done—was doing—to you.”
“Why did you marry me?”
A knock on the door interrupted his answer.
Annoyance briefly marred his features. “In a minute,” he called.
“Rina—” His tone was something between a warning and an endearment, and there she was, back in the nightmare.
Her heart stood still.
“Colonel Castle?” a deferential voice called. “The limo is here.”
“Tell them to wait!”
He put his hands on either side of her head and wiped her tears away with a gentle brush of his thumbs. Then he pressed his forehead to hers.
“You know why I married you,” he whispered, his breath tickling her eyelashes.
“I don’t,” she said, caught in her recurring dream, dreading the words she knew she was destined to say. Dreading the answer she already knew he would give.
“Tell me,” she begged. It was happening just like in her dream. Oh, she was pathetic.
He sighed, then lifted his head. A jagged shadow defined the clean line of his jaw.
“I had to marry you,” he said. “I thought it was the only way I could protect you.”
“But what about love?” Stop! Don’t say it. But it was too late.
“Love? Rina—” His voice rasped. “Don’t you remember what I said that night in the cave?”
Her broken heart ached. Of course she did. Every word was tucked away in the farthest corner of her heart. She would remember and cherish those words forever. That didn’t mean she believed them.
“You didn’t believe me.” An echo of her thought.
He kissed her forehead and then straightened. “I don’t know how to fix this. I made a cocky, arrogant assumption, that just because I loved you, I could keep you safe.”
He sighed. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll let you go. I’ll stay away from my—” his voice broke harshly “—my child. But whatever you decide to do, please try to believe me. I do love you. I loved you the first moment I laid eyes on you. And I’ll love you forever.”
Irina could barely breathe around the squeezing of her heart. She’d wanted desperately to believe those words he’d said that night in Novus Ordo’s cave. And she desperately wanted to believe him now.
But he wasn’t meeting her gaze. And she knew from long experience that it meant he was holding something back. She touched his chin.
“Look at me,” she said as evenly as she could. His olive-green eyes met hers. In their depths, she saw why he’d avoided her gaze. Not because he was hiding a secret.
Not this time.
What she saw
was doubt—self-doubt. That was what he was trying to hide. The fact that he was doubting himself pierced her heart like an arrow.
“No,” she murmured.
Pain flickered across his features.
“No. My husband will not stay away from his child. Not for one moment—until at least she is twenty-one.”
She’d read in books about people’s faces lighting up, but she’d never witnessed it in real life—until this moment. Rook’s face glowed with an angelic light.
“Rina?” he whispered, twirling her around and pulling her back against him. “I’m sorry—”
She put her fingers to his lips. “Shh. I accept your apology.”
He kissed her shoulder, the side of her neck and her ear. Then he whispered, “You didn’t let me finish.”
His hands slid over her belly, where their tiny new baby lay, protected by her womb.
She laughed through tears. “Please then,” she murmured, laying her head back against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Finish.”
“I’m sorry, but this—” he patted her tummy “—is not a girl. He’s all boy.”
Laughter bubbled up from her throat. Laughter, joy, love. She turned in his arms and lifted her face to his. “We’ll see.”
In one motion, Rook picked her up and headed toward the bed. But before he’d gotten two feet, a sharp pounding stopped him.
“Colonel Castle. Is everything all right? Because if we don’t leave now, you’re going to miss your plane to Washington. And that means you’ll miss the ceremony with the president tomorrow morning.”
With a growl, he set her back down.
“We’re coming, right now,” Irina called breathlessly.
Rook held on to her for one more second, long enough to whisper in her ear.
She laughed and shook her head. “You will do no such thing in the limo. And not on the plane, either. We have plenty of time.”
Saying the words, she realized that, for the first time, she believed them.
“We have a lifetime,” she whispered to herself, as her husband opened the door for her.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4317-4
THE COLONEL’S WIDOW?
Copyright © 2009 by Rickey R. Mallory
