by Stacy Gail
If only.
What they didn’t know—what they couldn’t see—was how indescribably ugly he’d become. Sara certainly hadn’t been able to see it when she had first realized it was him under all the war paint. Gideon closed his eyes to shut out the bittersweet memory, but it didn’t help. He could still see how her longed-for and dreamed-of face had lit up with a fire of joy at seeing him again. It had been such a beautiful sight, that impetuous show of welcome, that it had sent a knife into the very core of what he used to call his heart. Sara Savitch had been happy to see a man who no longer existed.
He’d certainly done everything in his power to fix that, he thought hollowly and hung the towel up with listless movements. Never again would he see the welcoming radiance in Sara’s eyes, or be the focus of her dazzling smile. Never again would she think about believing he had any capacity for goodness.
She hated him now.
Good. The anguished thought reverberated deep inside to mix with the hopeless rage that haunted him like a shadow. He was glad of it. At least now she knew the truth about him. He was scum. Unworthy of breathing her air. A bastard.
Better for her to learn the truth now, rather than later.
* * *
Sara slammed the car door with more force than necessary, then made her recalcitrant legs move up the neat front walk leading to Gideon’s two-story Prairie-style house that overlooked White Rock Lake. She was done questioning the sanity of doing this, done with second-guessing herself. Until Gideon had come back from his tour, she’d never second-guessed her instincts. She’d be damned if she was going to allow him to make her start now.
When the door swung open, the scathing words she’s recited like a madwoman on the drive over jammed up in her throat when she saw him. He looked...terrible. His eyes were bloodshot and looked as though they had never known a moment’s sleep. His cheekbones poked out starkly against ashen skin, and the day-old beard only emphasized the leanness of his face. But even more than that, it was as though there was a strange gray pall hanging over him, and it filled her with a hopelessness she’d never known before.
Without a word, she pushed her way through the door.
Gideon moved back, if only to keep from getting stepped on. “Sara...what the hell are you doing here? What do you think you’re doing, just barging in like that? Get out.”
“Right. I will.” And she would, really. She didn’t want to stay here any longer than she had to, after all. Why would she, when he’d gone out of his way to bludgeon every possible feeling she might have had for him out of existence? But pity for her fellow living creature couldn’t be denied. “Why don’t you have a seat while I heat some water? I seem to recall the kitchen’s through here, yes?”
There was a beat of baffled silence behind her. “Yeah. Why are you inviting me to have a seat in my own home, and why do you want hot water?”
“Hot cocoa. The British think tea helps everything, but they’re so off base. Chocolate and sugar are the true magic.” The kitchen was bright with morning sunshine, and she made quick work of filling a kettle with water. “I always carry several different flavors, since I never know what mood I’m going to be in. From the looks of you, I would say you need peppermint hot cocoa in the worst way. You’re not going to work in the shape you’re in, are you?”
“I’ve been given two months to readjust to civilian life, so...” Then he seemed to realize he was having a normal conversation, and interrupted himself to glare at her. “I don’t want you here. And after yesterday I would have assumed you wouldn’t want to be here, either.”
“I’m a Savitch. Insignificant obstacles like the ones you’re trying to throw in my path could never slow me down.” After a brief dig through the ordered pockets of her carry-all satchel, she came up with her secret stash of emergency sweetness. “For what it’s worth, my father and I discussed how I should deal with you since you seem to be so determined to be a bother. He feels the same—ignore your pointless distractions and focus on the business at hand.”
“I wonder how he would handle knowing the oh, so professional heir to his throne was so reckless as to sex it up with me mere minutes after our first meeting? Not exactly the sort of image he’d want for his company, I’m sure.”
She hesitated only a fraction before dumping the cocoa into a mug she’d scrounged from a cabinet by the stove. “I had a feeling stooping even lower than you already have would occur to you, so I went ahead and let him know I made the monumental mistake of having sex with you. I must admit—I’m sorry I was right about how far you would fall.”
His eyes flickered in something that looked like a flinch. “Yeah, well, that’ll teach you to have faith in a son of a bitch like me. You, on the other hand, are tougher than I thought. I haven’t yet figured out how to take care of you, but I will.”
“Not a chance, pal. No secrets for me means no weaknesses that you can exploit. So I guess the question is, now what are you going to do? Because whatever it is, I’m more than capable of handling what you dish out.”
“You’re that determined to see this through?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
He rubbed a hand over his face, and the gesture screamed of a soul-deep weariness. “Don’t you understand that this could get dangerous, Sara?”
She almost laughed before she realized he was serious. The man clearly didn’t know the first thing about her or Lynchpin. “Gideon, what I do at LSI isn’t just a job. It’s who I am. I was born to be a warrior, a protector. I don’t know how to be anything else, and I don’t want to be.”
“A warrior, you say?” His tone suddenly dripped with condescension as he pulled a kitchen stool over to the center island and slouched onto it. “Please. Cute little rent-a-cops like you and your fellow so-called agents only play at being warriors. You don’t know what one really is.”
“Oh, I see. Because we haven’t traveled your exact same road, we’re not real, is that it? Newsflash, Gideon—I’ve run into that egocentric prejudice time and again, so I’m not going to bother arguing the point with you.”
“Because it’s an argument you can’t win.”
She bit her tongue to stop herself from taking the bait and revealing her true nature. The man had proven he wasn’t worthy of knowing her secrets. “Sounds like you think you got yourself a big heaping spoonful of what being a true soldier is all about.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“This, from the man who just showered me with mockery? How I loathe hypocrisy. And for what it’s worth,” she added, ignoring his virulent curse, “it would be appalling to ridicule anyone who has wounds from a war he didn’t start and couldn’t finish. A true warrior like me would never do that to a wounded soldier.”
His spine stiffened. “Yet obviously you feel you can poke at me, because I didn’t come away wounded, like so many others?”
“Your wounds are there. They’re just not visible.” The whistling of the kettle had her turning the stove off with a snap. “You’re a doctor, Gideon. A medical doctor, of course, but you must have done a psych rotation, especially since you’re military. I’m sure you recognize the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.”
His short huff of breath spoke volumes of nonexistent patience. “So?”
“So, you’ve got wounds. No one’s denying it, except maybe you. My advice is that you focus on getting to a healthier place, rather than hassling me.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Hassling you to avoid dealing with my personal crap?”
“In a nutshell, yes.” She slid the mug in front of him before she put the room between them, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “You might think I’m easier to deal with than your own issues, but here’s the bottom line—I’m another war you can’t win. My team and I are your father’s security detail, as of noon today.”
He was silent for a moment as he absorbed this. “So what you’re saying is the ball is in my court?”
Good grief, dark matter wasn’t as dense as Gideon was trying to be. “What I’m saying is, there is no ball. This isn’t a game you need to win, or a war you’re supposed to fight. I would think you’d be tired of fighting at this point.”
“Do you think I’m enjoying myself?” Gideon’s lips curled back in a snarl, and for a moment he really did look as dangerous as he sounded. Sara had to be insane to find that lick of danger exciting. “When I got stateside I had this crazy idea that maybe, just maybe I might be able to return to the civilized world where people didn’t kill each other for fun. Instead I walk into a nightmare where I can’t even keep my father safe from the bloodthirsty predators that populate every nook and cranny of this cesspool of a world. It’s obvious that mankind was misnamed, as it has nothing to do with kindness. It’s a ruthless species where survival of the fittest is the only driving instinct, and the ones who call themselves warriors are the worst of them all.”
She didn’t blink as the words poured out like an accusation. “Does that include you, soldier-boy?”
“Unfortunately.” The life drained out of his eyes and he stared at the mug in front of him as though he didn’t really see it. “Soldiers, warriors—they’re the absolute worst, wrapping themselves up in glory and righteousness when all they are, are a soulless pack of killers. I hate them all.”
A purely selfish flash of relief that he didn’t know what she was zipped through her before the bitterness of his self-loathing hit her full force. What the hell had happened to Gideon to make him turn on himself so completely?
Then she shook her head. She wouldn’t care about what happened to him. She couldn’t care. Caring led to feeling, and feeling led to messy, chaotic things, like burned-up office plants and melted glass desks. She absolutely wouldn’t allow herself to care that there was a war still being waged inside of him.
A war that would inevitably leave him as the only casualty.
“If you really do hate warriors, I suggest you stay out of my way. Make no mistake, Gideon—a warrior is exactly what I am. I’m more than capable of keeping your father safe while the authorities track down whoever’s killing the donor recipients. You just concentrate on battling your own demons, rather than me. One fight you can win. The other is hopeless.”
Slowly, almost as though he were resisting his every move, he rose. “I have to ask, Sara. Do you keep doing that on purpose?”
“Doing what?”
“Throwing down the gauntlet.” Step by step he closed the distance, until at last he came to a stop mere inches from where she stood. Close enough for her to hear him breathe. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough...to touch. “Are you trying to provoke me?”
Her jaw knotted against the hazy melting of her defenses. “There you go again, thinking my motivation is all about you.”
The harsh line of his mouth softened in a way that made her stomach muscles tighten with sweet tension. “Tell me it isn’t, just a little.”
Grimly she ignored her idiotic body’s responses. “Please allow me to put your mind at ease. Not only are you a mistake I regret making, you’re not even a blip on my radar screen.”
His eyes narrowed as though he didn’t like what he was hearing, before he rested his hands against the counter on either side of her, crowding her space. “See? Right there. That’s what I’m talking about. You have to know that was a challenge. Do you want me to try to convince you that it’s me you should be thinking of? Do you want me to do whatever it takes to occupy your every thought? Your every dream?” He lifted a hand to trace the hollow of her cheek. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
As he spoke, the feathering of his breath brushed her lips with all the seductive magic of a kiss. More than anything she ached to slide her tongue over the sensitized flesh to see if she could taste him there. “I do want you to do something for me, Gideon.”
His dark gaze flickered to her mouth, as tangible as a lover’s caress. “What?”
“I want you to back the hell up before I put your ass through a wall.” Before he could react, she shackled his wrist with one hand. In a move that was so fast she knew he had no hope of countering, she spun and twisted until she was behind him with his wrist pinned to the middle of his spine in a hold that, while gentle, threatened to be so much more.
“Allow me to iron out a few wrinkles in that mangled brain you brought home with you, Gideon. I’m not your enemy, so stop treating me like I am. I haven’t done anything to deserve the crap you keep throwing at me, and my patience in dealing with you is officially used up.”
His stunned stillness didn’t last, but the tug he gave on his arm was negated by the leverage she had on him. “Damn you, Sara—”
“Feel free to curse me until you pass out. It won’t leave a mark, because I don’t care about you one way or the other.”
A jolt went through him and he cursed again. “I thought you said you weren’t my enemy.”
“I’m not. But after yesterday, I’m also not your friend. I’m no toy that you or anyone else should even think about playing with.” When the heat where she held him suddenly dawned on her, Sara hastily released him and took herself across the kitchen before any real damage could be done. “The best thing you can do for all concerned, especially your father, is concentrate on getting your head right. Otherwise you’re just a pathetic train wreck that could wind up getting someone hurt. Or worse.”
He tried to drown her in a black glower while rubbing an absent hand over a wrist that was already turning a bright sunburn-red. “You must have a mile of guts, coming into my home and talking to me like that.”
“I’m not someone who cares enough to tiptoe around your delicate feelings and—” The sudden vibe of her smartphone interrupted her a couple seconds before Gideon’s landline jangled in its dock on the counter. Sara exchanged grim looks with Gideon before snagging up the phone to glance at the caller ID. “Go, KJ.”
“The Feds have decided to throw their two cents in on the manhunt for what they’re now unimaginatively referring to as the Organ Donor Killer,” her friend and assistant said without preamble. “They’re over at Noah Mandeville’s at this very moment, trying to talk him into protective custody.”
Sara’s stomach executed an unpleasant, broken-elevator drop. “Why now?”
“A fifth victim has appeared in Oklahoma City, a mother of three who received a kidney. And in case you’ve forgotten your basic United States geography, Oklahoma City is only four hours away from Dallas.”
Chapter Five
The walkie-talkie clipped to Sara’s belt chirruped as she circled the Mandeville property’s perimeter, pleased to see the progress that had already taken place. Almost all the motion detectors were now installed fifteen feet apart along the property line, and motion-sensitive cameras were being wired into the pre-existing security system. Special attention had been given to the satellite structures: the stables where Noah’s prize quarter horses were housed, the attached barn and the carriage house-turned-garage had new motion-sensitive security that could be worked remotely. As the sun sank into the west every structure was online, two armed Lynchpin security agents were up at the gatehouse, a specialized team was busy installing a safe-room in the center of the main house, and the property was locked down tighter than Fort Knox.
Swiss clockwork had nothing on LSI when it came to running smoothly.
Movement out of the corner of her eye turned her toward the rose garden. “Dad. Are Noah’s visitors still here?”
“The Feds are getting ready to leave, and so am I.” Towering several inches over her six-foot-tall frame, S. William Savitch was an older version of her, with his short dark hair now liberally peppered with silver and his dark gray eyes giving the area a professional once-over. “You know our personal rules now that you’re all grown up.”
“No congregating in the same place for long.” Sara sighed and wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never been a big believer in that superstition. You did rais
e me without either one of us being struck down by a heavenly bolt from the blue, after all. Same with your father and you, and his mother and him, and so on.”
“True enough. But why tempt fate when we don’t have to?”
“Right.” And despite her casual dismissal, Sara couldn’t stop herself from casting a wary glance up at the sky just beginning to dim. “I guess it doesn’t hurt to err on the side of caution, at that.”
“Which explains why I allowed your stepmother to talk me into retiring to far-away Florida.” William’s snort told Sara in no uncertain terms he was still baffled by that particular turn of events. “Though for all I know, I’ll be moving into close proximity of another one of our kind. Guess that sort of possibility makes life interesting.”
“The odds are in your favor, Dad. There aren’t too many of us around.” She began heading in the direction of the house, her father falling into step with her. “What’s Agent Tuttle like?”
“Typical by-the-book Fed who understands our role is purely protective when it comes to Noah. He seems satisfied that we’re happy to stay out of their way while they do their job in tracking down the killer.”
“And he’s happy to stay out of our way?”
“You know better than that. The FBI isn’t happy until they’re in everyone’s way.” William’s tone was desert-dry as he bumped her shoulder companionably. “Just look at the entourage he brought with him today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tuttle brought three people along with him for just the initial get-to-know-you meeting, with a late arrival showing up as I was getting ready to come and find you—some priest, no less. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if a clown car came rolling down the driveway to disgorge half of Ringling Brothers.”
