“Because I haven’t gotten sick in almost eighteen years.” She turned watery, miserable eyes towards him. “Since I discovered Dramamine.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you needed it?”
As he watched, her skin flushed warm, a tide of red rushing up into her neck and face. At least she had some color now.
Her lips clamped shut, thinning to an unbelievably straight line.
Little idiot. Shaking his head, Chase said, “Fine. Don’t tell me. But, for heaven’s sake, we’re stopping at a pharmacy before we head home.”
At that her body went pale again. He could see tiny drops of sweat dotting her forehead just at the line of her hair.
“Not now. In fact, I think maybe we’ll stay here tonight. Let your stomach settle a bit before we try this again.”
That didn’t seem to steady her nerves any.
She could not take another flight right now. What she needed was to rest. Luckily, he knew just the place.
He’d been coming here for years. His father, the few times he’d seen the man, had talked to him about how beautiful Arizona was. How peaceful. Being so close, Chase had wanted to experience that peace for himself.
And he’d discovered his father was right. Flagstaff was an interesting town, a mix of hippie and new age. Close enough to the Grand Canyon that he could lose himself in a few days of hiking and camping.
One of the reasons he’d bought the plane before coming home was because he knew he’d need to find that sense of peace again.
To his amazement and consternation, it had eluded him the first time he’d returned. Chase had simply chalked it up to the overwhelming guilt he was still feeling. His mind wasn’t ready for peace. But it hadn’t been there a few weeks ago when he’d returned again. Then, he’d fought down a minor sense of panic.
“Let’s find you someplace you can lie down.”
“That would be great.”
The grateful look she sent him had his stomach kicking into his chest. Not because he enjoyed the feeling of being needed by her—although he did—but because if she was willing to put aside her all-fired self-reliance and let him take care of her she must be feeling truly awful. Chase didn’t like that thought at all.
Sabrina was one of the strongest, most independent women he’d ever met. Seeing her brought so low was…wrong.
He settled her into their waiting rental car. He’d asked for a fire-engine red convertible so that they could put the top down and enjoy the Arizona sun. Instead, she buckled into her seat, rolled her head against the headrest and stared listlessly out the window.
It was early afternoon when he finally got her settled into a hotel room. It was a small place, not part of a large chain, but a tasteful, expensive resort with panoramic views. Relaxing. At least he’d always thought so. Once she rested, he fully expected Sabrina would fall in love with the place as much as he had.
He watched her stretch out on the bed.
“Do you need anything?” Chase walked to her, staring down into her face as she looked up into his. Her skin had gained some color back. But her eyes were still miserable…hurt.
She shook her head.
“Get some rest. You’ll feel better.”
“What are you doing?”
“I thought I might go into town.”
“Don’t you dare visit that family without me. Someone already tried to kill you. It’s too dangerous.”
He nodded simply, agreeing with her that it was dangerous but knowing she’d take it for agreement with her order. However, he wasn’t going to waste precious time.
Chase waited for Sabrina’s body, exhausted and sick, to pull her into a calming, restoring sleep. And then he left.
The address was easy to find. He sat in the rental car for several minutes staring at the house. He watched as a man—clearly not the one who’d hit him in the parking lot—puttered in the yard in front of the house.
It obviously wasn’t them. So why wasn’t he leaving?
Maybe because he couldn’t sit here, staring at someone who’d been affected by the decision he’d made, and not do something. Say something. The guilt he lived with wouldn’t let him.
Getting out, he walked slowly across the street, unsure of what he was going to say. What could he say that would make a difference? Was he doing this for them, or for himself?
The man, Mr. Nesmith according to the information he had, asked, “Can I help you?”
“I’m Major Chase Carden.”
“Yes, sir. I know who you are. Nicky watched you on Oprah. We appreciated what you said about our boy Max.”
Part of him was surprised when the man offered his hand.
“I, ah, was close by and wanted to make sure you’d gotten the invitation to the medal ceremony.”
“We did. Thank you for including us. We weren’t planning to come, though—it’s a little far away for us.”
“I don’t really deserve the medal and I want to make sure the six that lost their lives that night get the recognition they deserve.”
Chase had no idea why he was telling this to a complete and total stranger. Maybe it was his kind face. His understanding eyes. Maybe Chase just needed to tell someone, anyone, connected to the families that he knew he shouldn’t be the one getting the attention…their loved ones should.
“Son, I think you do deserve that medal. I think every last soldier over there deserves a medal for what they do every day. Not everyone gets one. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take yours.”
The man looked up at him, shifting on his feet for a second before clapping him on the back.
“What happened isn’t your fault. You know that, right? It was war. Max Junior knew what he was signing up for when he decided to go into the army, just like every other soldier. He was prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for his country if necessary. I won’t say it isn’t hard, because every day I want him home, safe, back with us. But what happened isn’t your fault.”
Chase simply nodded, not sure what else to do or say.
“Thank you, sir. If you change your mind about coming, please contact the Thunderbirds public affairs officer. We’ll make sure you can get to the ceremony.”
Chase started to leave but the other man stopped him.
“Major Carden.” Pausing, he looked back. “I might not think you’re responsible, but I do know someone who does. I wouldn’t be mentioning this except for…well, Nicky’s been in touch with his wife and she hasn’t seen or heard from him in weeks. She’s getting very worried.”
“Who is it, sir?”
“Donald Blankenship. His daughter, Amy I think, was in the same platoon with Max. That’s how Nicky and his wife met. They have an online support group for family. He needed someone to blame. I guess he’s fixated on you.”
Chase let the words soak into his skin. It wasn’t far off from what he’d expected. That didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“Thank you, sir.”
Chase headed back to his car, the other man’s final words following him. “He’s wrong.”
Chase wasn’t so sure about that.
He drove to the hotel in silence, his mind racing. He hadn’t settled on anything, let alone what to do with the information he’d just received by the time he walked back into their room.
He stopped inside the doorway, staring down at Sabrina as she lay sleeping on the bed. Peaceful. Perfect. He couldn’t tell her. She’d go straight to the commander, the Secret Service, anyone who could find the man and put a stop to him.
But Chase didn’t want that—a swarm of people with guns making the situation worse. Maybe if he could just find the man and talk to him…He’d check the hotels as soon as they got home. If he found nothing then he’d turn the information over.
His gaze followed the softened planes of Sabrina’s sleeping face. She was the best thing in his life right now. Nothing else mattered. She was his wife and he never wanted to let her go.
Without thinking, he reache
d for her, softly trailing a finger down her cheek, brushing a hand across her forehead, moving a few stray strands of her silky hair out of her way.
Her eyes fluttered open. He hadn’t meant to wake her. He’d just needed to touch her.
“Hi.” The word was sleepy and low, but the smile on her face made his heart ache.
“Feeling better?”
She nodded, sleep letting go slowly of her brain, her body.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
She stared up at him for several moments. “For understanding.”
“What’s there to understand? It isn’t like you did anything wrong, Sabrina. This isn’t your fault.” The strange echo of the words Mr. Nesmith had spoken not twenty minutes before wasn’t lost on him.
She scoffed, just as he had to himself. She was wrong. Was he?
“That isn’t how my father saw it.”
“What does he have to do with this?”
“Nothing.”
Picking her up as if she were no more substantial than air, he sat down on the bed, his back braced against the headboard, her head cradled in his lap.
“Tell me.”
She sighed, tension stiffening her body before she went lax and pliant against him again. “The General had sole responsibility for me from the time I was five whether he wanted it or not. Worrying about which school I’d go to, what we’d eat for dinner…it wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned his life. And it didn’t fit well with his career ambitions. The General never understood how he could have ended up with a daughter…no less a daughter with motion sickness. The only thing he ever wanted was a son to carry on his name, to carry on his legacy within the air force.”
“I think you’re doing a hell of a job with that, Y chromosome not required.”
She shrugged, her shoulders lifting and falling against his thigh. He tried to ignore the sensation; this was not the time to be turned on.
“Sure. But I’m not a pilot and I never could be.”
She remained silent for several minutes. He wondered what she was thinking but didn’t want to risk asking her. It was the most she’d shared of herself with him in…well, ever. He didn’t want to ruin the moment.
“I think somehow he blamed me for his lost dream, his lost legacy. And my mom. He blamed her for a lot of things, although, he had every reason to.”
“Now, that’s hardly fair.”
Her head stirred in his lap. “Do you know exactly how she died?” Her voice was soft…and bleak.
“No.”
“She died in a car accident. Drunk. She killed a father and his son. My mother destroyed herself, my family, and two innocent people. She was selfish and hedonistic. She didn’t care who she hurt as long as what she did felt good.”
Chase wasn’t sure what to say to that. Were there words? Instead, he simply placed a hand on her back and caressed up and down.
It told him a lot though, a lot about her, about why she’d resisted giving in to the attraction between them. Maybe now he’d figure out how to keep her with him, knowing why she fought so hard to get free. It was something they shared—a messy divorce and the loss of a parent. Maybe knowing that would help him understand—give him another weapon in his arsenal to fight for her.
“I look like her, you know. My hair. My eyes. I think the only thing I got from the General is his unwavering sense of right and wrong.”
“Oh, I think you got a few other things. His confidence. Strength. Stubbornness.” He brushed his lips against her forehead.
She laughed, a gentle burst of air that heated the denim beneath her cheek, and the prickling skin beneath.
“He sees her, whenever he looks at me.”
“I doubt that. You aren’t like her, you know. Even if you let that inner wild child out more often, you still wouldn’t be like her. You care too much for the people around you. Your father had to be proud of you, he couldn’t be anything else.”
She craned her neck so she could look up into his face, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Thanks.”
“It’s true.”
Taking a finger, he tipped her chin up so that she could see he was dead serious. Her eyes darkened, the deepest forest-green he’d ever seen. Her lips, lush, tempting, parted. A breath, somewhere between a sigh of contentment and a sound of surrender, leaked out.
“Did you go to see them while I was sleeping?”
Chase looked down at her and couldn’t lie even as he knew it would make her angry. “Yes.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“Mr. Nesmith wasn’t the man behind the wheel.”
Sabrina’s eyes narrowed as she considered him for several moments. “I should be mad at you for going there alone.”
“I wasn’t in any danger. He was outside in the yard. I knew before I spoke to him that it wasn’t him.”
“So why did you stay and talk?”
“Because I had to.”
Her head slowly slid up and down his thigh in a nod of understanding. Her lips turned up at the corners into the smallest, most angelically tempting smile.
He let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d expected her to be upset with him, at the very least troubled. Instead, she seemed to recognize why it had been important for him to stay and talk to the man.
What he didn’t expect was her eyes to begin to smolder and spark as she suddenly said, “Make love to me.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“You’re sick. Somehow I don’t think strenuous exercise would be what the doctor ordered right now.” He grinned down at her, couldn’t stop the mischievous slant to the turn of his own lips. Or the urge to tease her just a little.
One eyebrow shot up in challenge and warning before she rose to her knees, her palms centered squarely on his chest.
“Why don’t you let me decide what I need?”
12
RINA STRADDLED his body.
Her blood sizzled through her veins, popping, burning and carrying a painful pleasure that settled into her core.She’d fought him at every turn, giving in to the passion between them only reluctantly. She was tired of fighting.
Fighting herself and her fears. At the moment it was easier to take…to give in to the bubbling, roiling urges inside.
They were alone, here, tonight, and Chase had been so sweet. Comforting. Where her father had been stern and disapproving, he’d been gentle and kind.
She probably could have fought the crackle of sexual attraction that always raced across her skin in his presence. Rina couldn’t fight his kindness and understanding.
And she wanted him. With a fierceness that bordered on torture. It was that simple.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
They were both still fully clothed, but Rina could feel the hard ridge of his arousal snuggled tight against her body. There was something agonizing about knowing he was close, so close, but that she couldn’t touch him. Not yet.
“I’m not paying you to think.”
“You’re not paying me at all.”
“Semantics.” She grinned down at him, rubbing her body against his, denim-on-denim friction.
His quick, indrawn breath echoed through her own body, a reverberating sound that twanged the sensitive nerves at the surface of her skin. It caressed her. As she knew his hands and mouth would if she persisted.
“Take off your shirt.”
Chase studied her for several seconds, then said, “No.” Grasping her hips, he lifted her off and away. Her feet hit the plush carpet.
“You need to rest, Sabrina.”
Backing slowly away from him and the bed, Rina considered. His body was long, lean, honed by years of grueling training. She knew what he hid beneath the shirt and jeans he was using as armor against her. But they couldn’t hide everything. In fact, the tight denim left not a thing to her imagination…and it was pretty damn good.
She tilted her head sideways. An idea s
parked in her mind and a wicked smile pulsed at her lips.
“All right.” Walking to the bedside table, she played with the clock radio the hotel had placed there. Music filled the room with the flick of her finger, some pop princess wailing against her ears.
Frowning, she played with the dials until she found exactly what she wanted, a pulse-pounding rock song. The smile slipped back into place as she realized what song was playing, Bon Jovi’s “Lay Your Hands On Me.” How perfect.
“If you won’t take your clothes off…” She moved to stand at the foot of the bed. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to take mine off instead.”
The bass melded with her blood, her heart beating in time with the backbone of the song. Her body moved, instinctively finding the underlying rhythm. Her hips swayed as the words melted into the room.
Her eyes connected with his, dark and swirling, an unforgiving ocean enthralled by a storm. Her hands found the edge of her shirt and shifted it against her flat stomach. Cotton had never felt so good against her skin.
She bunched it together as her palms played. His gaze followed her every move, her hands on her ribs, abs, arms. The twist of her hips against tight jeans.
Her voice whispered the words, taunting, teasing, tempting, as she pulled her shirt over her head and threw it. Chase caught it midair, slapping it to the floor without ever taking his eyes from her.
Turning, she reached behind to unhook her bra, holding the cups with a single arm across her body. The straps slipped down her arms and the elastic hung loosely at her sides. She tossed a look at him over her shoulder before letting it slide all the way to the floor at her feet.
She could hear his deep intake of breath. And let a smile of triumph show through.
Instead of turning to treat him to her aching breasts, she kept her body facing away, rolling her neck and letting her hair sweep down the length of her back.
Warm sunlight leaked through the closed blinds, the day and the outside world shut firmly away. Maybe that’s what gave her the courage to slowly unzip her jeans. She’d never have acted this way with any other man. Never had. Chase was the only one to call to the unrestrained side she tried so hard to deny. With him she couldn’t help but let it go, be herself.
Afterburn Page 14
