Hart's Last Stand

by Cheryl Biggs

  He did remember that Brenner had been crazy about his new wife. Had talked about her incessantly, until some of the guys, including Rick, had started razzing him about being “obsessed.”

  “Anyway,” Suzanne said, breaking into Hart’s thoughts, “I know Brenner Trent is dead and can’t be any more responsible for what’s happening now than Rick—” she shook her head, still puzzled “—but the fact that an aviation mechanic had been at Monmouth for intelligence training and there’s no indication of it at all on his background report has been nagging at me ever since I read the report. I mean, I know they were only preliminary reports, but still…” She shrugged. “I’m probably being silly.”

  “Did you bring that up with Trent’s widow?”

  Suzanne shook her head. “Not really. She was pretty devastated by his death. Still on the verge of tears every time she mentioned his name.”

  “So what did you two talk about?”

  “I just said I was in town on business, and wanted to convey my condolences, that’s all.”

  Hart looked back at her. Was this another move in her game plan? He decided to play one of his own. He might be warning her or giving himself away, or he might just learn something from her reaction. He had to risk it. “Have you noticed anyone following you?”

  “Following me?” She remembered the sensation she’d felt for days after the FBI had questioned her, as if someone was watching her. Suzanne suddenly realized she hadn’t felt it since the first day she’d arrived back in Three Hills. “No, I mean, not since I arrived here.” She frowned. “Why?”

  Alarm shone from her eyes, and he noticed her hands had begun to tremble in response to his question.

  For a brief moment he felt like the proverbial snake in the grass and considered telling her about the man in the restaurant who’d been watching her and Trent’s widow. But that would mean admitting that he’d followed her, and that, the voice of reason pointed out, just might be exactly the kind of thing she was after: realization that she’d gotten to him, that a part of him believed her claims.

  No, he was too good an officer, too cautious and well trained a soldier to let his guard down completely. He couldn’t forget that although a part of him desired her desperately, that was all it was. Desire. As far as he was concerned, there was no such thing as love except in fairy tales. That cold fact of life had been proved to him time and time and again. And trust? He nearly scoffed. Trust was something he would give to no one, especially Suzanne.

  “You just need to be careful, Suzanne, that’s all,” he said. “Don’t be going out and questioning people on your own. Exert caution, at least until we find out what’s going on.”

  “Caution.” She nodded. Around him, too? “I know it was a dumb idea, but I didn’t know what else to do. I mean, that absence about Trent was the only thing in the files that stuck out, you know?” She inhaled deeply. “Hart, I just want this whole mess… I don’t want you to be…”

  He heard the catch in her voice as it broke over the words and saw the tears that glistened in her eyes, then slipped over her eyelids and, touched by the moon’s soft glow as it filtered past him and into the room, turned to shimmering silver trails that coursed down her cheeks.

  The need to hold her, to protect her, to love her, rushed through him, stronger than he could deny, more urgent than he could resist. Suddenly he didn’t care who was lying and who was telling the truth; he didn’t care what had happened a year ago, yesterday or even what tomorrow might bring. All he cared about was now, this moment, and Suzanne.

  Settling onto the sofa beside her, he dragged her into his arms. Her breasts crushed against his chest, her body pressed against his. He found it almost impossible to breathe as fires of need licked and flowed through his veins, burned his loins and threatened to rob him of every rational thought he’d ever had.

  He could take her now. He could take what he’d always wanted, what he’d always dreamed of. He could use her passion to get at the truth, a little voice in the back of his mind urged.

  “Hart,” Suzanne whispered, slipping her arms around his neck, catching his gaze with hers.

  His lips came down on hers, demanding a response, daring her to refuse him what he craved, what he needed.

  His arms tightened their hold on her, melding every svelte line and sensuous curve of her body to every honed length and hard plane of his own. He ravished her mouth, drinking in the sweetness of her kiss and demanding more. She made him forget that for every action, there was always a consequence.

  Sanity fled Suzanne’s mind. This was what she’d wanted for so long, these feelings that his kisses, his touches, incited within her. This was what she had been seeking, what she had been waiting for all her life: this dangerous man who made her feel things she’d only dreamed about, whose touch or mere presence made her oblivious to everything else in the world, even the danger that with him, because of him, there might not be a tomorrow for her.

  She tightened her arms around his neck, wanting never to let go.

  Lost in the desires that overwhelmed her, Suzanne was nevertheless more aware of him than she’d ever been. The combined scents of crisp morning air and sultry desert darkness clung to him, a redolence that was uniquely him, while beneath that was the aroma of the man himself, a blend of soap and flesh and passion that was too heady and exhilarating to resist.

  She felt his body surround her, his desires meld with her own, the heat of his hands burn into her flesh like branding irons.

  Then abruptly his lips left hers.

  Suzanne opened her eyes, feeling suddenly more alone and bereft than ever before in her life. Her gaze instantly locked with his.

  “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you,” Hart said, his voice husky with emotion.

  “I know,” she whispered. A delicious shiver of desire coursed through her. “I’ve wanted you, too.” It was a confession she’d never thought she would make, and now she couldn’t remember why she’d held it back.

  What little sanity and restraint Hart still possessed instantly fled at her words. His lips moved down the slender length of her neck again, across the subtle curve of her shoulders, then made a slow, teasing return trip and recaptured her mouth. His kiss demanded all she had to offer and more, but this time promised to give as much in return.

  His hands slipped under her nightshirt, his fingers brushed over, then encircled her bare breasts. She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt a rush of need that shook her to the core of her being.

  She clung to him, needing his touch, wanting more, wanting everything he had.

  Outside, dark clouds had overtaken the sky, and a deep, growling roll of thunder swept across the desert.

  She had wanted him for so long. The loneliness, need and urgency of long-pent-up and denied emotions raged through her, released by the passion of his touch. Her body was on fire, and she was being consumed. It left her languid in his arms and fueled her desire.

  Outside a crack of lightning momentarily lit the earth in a blinding flash, announcing the arrival of the first summer storm of the season.

  Just as suddenly sanity seized Suzanne and tore her from Hart’s arms. She wanted him desperately, but she couldn’t let that happen.

  Everything in her screamed at her to trust him, to give herself to him, to love him.

  But what if she was wrong?

  Damn her. Why wouldn’t she listen to him? He pulled a cigarette from his pack, placed it between his lips and flicked open the silver lighter his wife had given him for their twentieth wedding anniversary.

  He glanced at the cigarette lighter and ran his thumb over the inscription she’d had engraved on its back. It was too dark now to read it, but he didn’t really need to. He knew what it said. “I will love you always, forever, and beyond. D.”

  It was all he had left.

  He flicked the lighting cylinder and a flame burst to life, momentarily illuminating the interior of the car and casting shadows on his face as
he drew it into the end of the cigarette.

  If they’d been watching they would have seen him then, but he knew they weren’t.

  The last thing Hart wanted to do was leave her. He looked back at Suzanne, standing on the dark porch. He’d lost it. His resolve. His self-discipline. His control. She’d kissed him, held him, and he’d forgotten everything but his need for her, the lust that tore at his body like a hungry mistress. He was a fool.

  He could still feel her lips on his, her body pressed to his length, and wondered if the feeling would ever go away, if he would ever forget.

  She could be a traitor, he told himself. A murderer. But the passion he knew he shouldn’t be feeling, didn’t want to feel, wouldn’t cool.

  Whatever else he did for the rest of the night, he knew sleep wasn’t going to be much a part of it, if at all. Before long and at this rate he’d probably turn into a zombie.

  He watched her step from the porch, disappear into the shadows of the house and close the door.

  The porch light went out.

  Even though he had no proof to the contrary, it was becoming more difficult with the passing of each hour to believe her guilty.

  If he’d had half a brain, he would have told Major Lewis about her claims the moment she’d come to him and made them, then refused to have any more to do with her.

  He drove through town on his way home. Three Hills was one of the oldest towns in the state and had hosted just about every Old West outlaw, gunslinger and lawman known to history at one time or another. Most of the old buildings had been preserved, and any new ones were designed to fit in.

  Usually, whenever he drove through town, he admired the preservation efforts. Tonight his thoughts were too filled with Suzanne to notice anything other than the direction back to his apartment.

  If Rick hadn’t confided in Suzanne, then how would she have known about the plans for the weapons-detection system? He pulled into his garage. And if she hadn’t known about the plans, she couldn’t have conspired to steal them.

  Unless she’d been involved with someone else in the corps who had that information.

  Damn. He climbed out of the car and slammed the door in fury.

  He’d held her in his arms, tasted her kiss and almost lost himself to her—and for those few brief moments he’d forgotten that she could have come back to destroy him.

  Chapter 10

  Suzanne set the laptop computer she’d rented on the coffee table, plugged its phone cord into the wall jack beside the fireplace, then sat cross-legged on the floor and turned it on.

  Within seconds she was on the Internet. “Heaven help me,” she muttered. She wasn’t a computer person, had used one only a few times since she and Clyde had opened the gallery. Clyde, on the other hand, was a computer whiz. He did all their bookkeeping, bill-paying, taxes and whatever else he could on the computer, and was always lauding its attributes and nagging her to learn how to use it and stop writing everything down on notepads.

  She hit the search button and typed in “Branson.”

  The first thing she got for her efforts was a page full of advertisements for Branson, Missouri, which had labeled itself the new home of country music. After that she found Branson Golf Clubs, Branson Financial Aid, Branson Antique Toys, Branson Foods and Branson Appaloosas.

  Hart brought her everything from transplants to Valentine’s Day cards, even though it wasn’t spelled with an E.

  She gave up and called Clyde.

  “Suzanne, honey, do you know what time it is? Or did you fly to another time zone?” Clyde squeaked when she said hello and asked him for help.

  She glanced at her watch. “Sorry,” she mumbled, not having realized it was two in the morning and she’d been zipping from one Web site to another for almost two hours. Though all in vain.

  Clyde groaned. “Well, I’m up now, thank you, darling, so what is it you’re trying to do?”

  Half an hour and a lot of evasive answers to his questions later, she was convinced there was no information on the Web about Hart Branson. But now she knew what she was doing, sort of, and she wasn’t through. She thanked Clyde and told him to go back to sleep.

  “Oh, yes, right. After this?” he squawked, and promptly hung up.

  The moon disappeared and the sun began to rise over the distant horizon. The sky went from black, to gray, to a brilliant blue, and Suzanne slammed the lid of the computer shut and cursed soundly. She was exhausted, and she’d found nothing.

  She sat on the sofa, lay her head back and dozed.

  Half an hour later the phone rang.

  “Suzanne?” It was Clyde.

  She nearly groaned aloud. The last thing she wanted to do was answer questions.

  “Sorry, love, but I forgot to tell you that someone called for you last night. A man.”

  She didn’t need to see her cousin to know he’d just smiled mischievously and rolled his eyes. “And do you remember who it was?”

  “Oh, yes, Agent Smith, or Schmidt, or something like that.”

  Her heart ceased its beat, and her body turned cold.

  “He said he was with the FBI and needed to ask you a few questions. Hah! I mean, really, Suzanne, you should find a man a little more creative than that.”

  “Did you tell him where I am?” she asked, feeling more than ever like a fugitive.

  “Well, not likely,” Clyde snipped. “I mean, heavens, I’m not a simpleton, Suzanne. I figured if you wanted him to know, he would know.”

  She said a prayer of thanks that she’d decided not to tell Clyde what was going on.

  “Good. You were right. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “I thought you were going to be home tomorrow,” Clyde half wailed.

  “Soon,” she said, and hung up, then dialed her cousin’s number. “Please let her have come home,” she prayed.

  “Molly, it’s Suzanne. I need your help,” she said the moment her cousin answered. An image of Hart flashed into her mind, and something like pain stabbed at her heart. Tears suddenly stung her eyes, fear burned in her throat and she struggled to talk past both. She didn’t want to believe the worst of him and hadn’t wanted to involve Molly in this, but she had no choice now—to either one.

  Going to Hart for help had been the wrong thing to do. She knew that now. Whatever she felt for him, her traitorous emotions were starting to cloud her judgment, and if that happened, she just might pay for it with her life.

  Son of a… DeBraggo threw the receiver he’d been using to listen in on Suzanne’s conversations into the glove box of his car and rubbed his ear. He hadn’t expected that. Their contact at the State Department was supposed to have seen to it that the cousin couldn’t be reached until at least the first of the month, and that was another week away.

  He swore again. Someone had screwed up, royally, and now there was going to be a wrench in the works he hadn’t anticipated and sure as hell didn’t need. Because if it all went wrong, he had no doubt who they were going to blame.

  Flipping open his cell phone, he dialed the number of his superior. He got the man’s voice-mail. Of course. Mr. Important was never there when he was needed. “Your contact in the State Department screwed up,” DeBraggo said, throwing tact and caution to the wind. “The cousin’s back and Cassidy contacted her. Everything is going to go to hell if we don’t cut her off. Get that damned cousin away from the computer banks and out of town. Now!” he snapped.

  He cut the connection. Why was it whenever he stuck his damned neck out there was usually no one there to help, but always someone around to try to chop off his head?

  When Suzanne failed to answer his knock, Hart glanced through the window beside the front door and saw that she was out on the patio. He walked around the house.

  Suzanne turned at the sound of his footsteps on the brick walkway.

  Hart smiled. It was obvious he’d surprised her.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, hoping the apology sounded sincere. He’d never be
en one to worry about hiding his emotions, except around Suzanne when Rick had been alive. Now he found it more difficult than ever. But he had to succeed. His life might very well depend on his acting ability.

  “Sorry,” Suzanne said, but her tone was cool, and she didn’t return his smile. “I guess I was lost in old memories. I was thinking about Rick, about some of the things he’d said, and—” she shrugged “—I didn’t hear the doorbell.” In actuality her thoughts had been snapping back and forth between Hart and Molly. She just wished her cousin would hurry up and call back. Maybe then she’d have some answers. She prayed they’d be the right ones.

  Hart felt something like jealousy stir in him, hot and unexpected at her comment. Self-loathing instantly followed. How could he be jealous of a dead man? Her husband—his best friend?

  He was losing it. Mentally and physically, he was losing it all. He shook the thought aside. No. It was just a battle like none he’d ever fought, and if she was guilty, she was an enemy like none he’d ever faced. “Sorry.” He forced the smile to remain on his lips. “I didn’t ring the doorbell,” he said. “I glanced through the window and saw you sitting back here, so…”

  “Oh.”

  He watched her set her cup of coffee on a table near the chaise longue and knew she was more shaken by his unannounced visit than he’d originally thought. But why? Because he’d come by? Or had something gone wrong with her plan?

  Her phone rang. “Excuse me,” Suzanne said, walking inside to answer it.

  Hart punched a fist into his other hand. Normally he loved the cat-and-mouse game of battle. But not this time. With Suzanne he hated it, and that had made him careless. He should have gotten her talking about Rick when she’d brought him up. Now it was too late.

  “That was my business partner,” Suzanne said, stepping back outside. “He had some questions about an upcoming assignment.”

  Hart watched her walk toward him, watched how her lips moved as they formed each word, watched her fold her arms together. He remembered what it had felt like when he’d held her to him, pressed her body into his and captured her mouth with his. An ecstasy he might never know again and shouldn’t have known in the first place—at least not with Suzanne Cassidy.