by Ronie Kendig
Darci took a step back, her stomach clenched. “I’ll e-mail you.”
“Cheater.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s your get-out-of-jail-free card. You walk away under that ruse, I’ll never hear from you again.”
It was her turn to smile. A sad, heavy smile. “[email protected].” With that lie, she pivoted and hurried into her tent. At least he knew the truth.
Eight
Last night had been the best night of his life … but it’d also been the worst.
Had Jia blown him off because of the scar? Or because he just wasn’t good enough? Like everything in his life he didn’t measure up for? “
What happened?”
Heath shot a look at Aspen as they strode into the workout room. “What do you mean?”
Hair pulled back with sprigs of curls framing her face, she rolled her eyes. “You’ve got more bite than Trinity this morning. What happened?”
Oh. That. “Nothing.”
“Did she turn you down?”
Heath ripped open the zipper of his gym bag and grabbed the hand wraps. He straightened and looked toward the corner. “Speed bag.”
Aspen’s wry grin needled his mood. “Hey, Ghost.”
Wrapping his hands, Heath tried to ignore the woman. The yellow roll slipped out of his hand. He grunted.
Aspen stepped in, rolled it back up, then used care in wrapping his hand. Tight. She knew how to do this. “Heath, she’s a smart girl. When she realizes what she’s missing out on, she’ll be back.”
He tugged free. “She gave me the kiss-off. Besides, she headed out this morning.”
Aspen made quick work of prepping his other hand, too. Heath grabbed his boxing glove and tugged it on using his teeth. She smirked. “I guess that explains why she just came in.”
Aspen was looking over his shoulder, and he followed her gaze.
Oh, man. Jia. Black workout pants. A red tank. Hair pulled back. Donning gloves.
Unexpected impact against his gloves jerked his attention back to Aspen. “Free the oppressed, right, Hot Shot?” Aspen nodded. “She looks oppressed.”
He wasn’t a Green Beret anymore, but the ingrained motto guided him regardless. Still, Heath’s courage slipped through the slick gloves. If Jia didn’t want something to work between them, then “freeing” her wouldn’t make a difference.
But what if she did want it to work? Heath considered that possibility as he made his way to the universal punching bag. Warming up, he threw some light punches, bouncing back and forth for a good cardio workout but also good boxing posture.
A few right hooks, an uppercut, and he shifted to his left, jabbing.
Since his career change, Heath had steered clear of female involvement. A few thought it was cool that he’d taken a hit during an ambush. But the cool factor waned at the headaches and depression. More and more, he felt himself turning into Uncle Bobby.
That scared him. Right out of dating.
Not that he thought less of his uncle, but the man had lost his will to live when the chopper he’d been in went down and left him paralyzed in both legs. Strong military hero reduced to a wheelchair. How many times had his uncle groused about that?
Left-right-left. Heath moved around the bag, blocking. Punching. Blocking.
He took a step back and shook out his arms and stretched his neck.
She was beautiful. Light brown eyes. Sweet smile.
“It won’t work.”
Heath led with his right foot and nailed a hook. The impact rippled through his arm and up into his shoulder. Felt good. Strong. The days of grueling physical therapy reminded him that anything worth having—getting back on his feet—was worth fighting for.
Jia.
A left uppercut. A right cross. Whoosh. Thud. Whoosh-whoosh. Thud. He repeated it.
As he bounced on his toes and hung his head back, staring at the ceiling, he sensed someone at the bag beside him. He took a step to the side. Jia had a wicked throwing arm. Nice figure. A laugh that embedded itself into his memory and made him want to hear that sound a lot more. He had a feeling she didn’t laugh nearly enough.
Argh! Why wouldn’t she get out of his head? Heath ducked, blocked with his left, and threw a hard right. A left hook. A right.
Whoosh. Thud. Whoosh.
The echo of his movement registered. He started to look to the side, but he had enough distractions. This workout would be his last for a while. After this, he’d retrieve Trinity from the kennel and take a run.
Left up, he jabbed several times with his right. He’d hit a nerve when he took that leap, mentioning someone had hurt her. In fact … that was when her defenses went to the highest state of alert. He toed his way around to the other side, out of the line of fire from the other boxer. So, who had hurt her?
He slammed a left hook into the bag.
The person boxing beside him came around the back. Heath angled, using the challenge to slip between their bags without getting hit.
Thud! At the impact against the back of his head, Heath blinked away stars. Resisted the urge to tell the guy to bring it down a notch. But he wasn’t in charge here. Not anymore.
Right. Left. Left uppercut. Right hook.
The movements were echoed again. To his left.
Heath cocked his head slightly. What was with this person?
A foot flew toward his face.
Heath jerked away, arching backward. “Hey!” He straightened and found himself staring at those perfect brown eyes.
“Sorry.” Without another word, Jia threw jabs and hooks into the leather-padded column.
Uncertainty slowed him as he returned to his workout. He moved through his routine, one he’d established while doing PT. But as he worked, he noticed his movements mimicked. What, was she challenging him? He did the regimen faster.
So did she.
Heath stretched his neck and moved to the side farthest away from her. What was she doing here anyway? She said they were bugging out. Did she lie? Or did the plans change?
His bag lurched toward his face.
He angled right, narrowly avoiding a face-plant with leather. That wasn’t an accident. Jia tracked him to the back. He threw a right. So did she.
Right. Left upper. Right hook. Right jab.
Heath moved around, gaining the front and Jia trailing—banging into his back.
“Sorry.”
“Sloppy work, RockGirl.”
If he’d figured out her little game, then after another left hook—Her foot swung out.
Heath ducked and stifled his smile. “Let’s hope your work in the field is better.” He took himself through the routine again. Waited for her foot. Heath dropped and swung his leg around, catching her foot and sweeping her off her feet.
Jia flipped back. Her body thudded against the mat, yanking a grunt from her chest.
Heath bent, his arms resting on his knees. “If you need boxing lessons, I’m available. Anytime.”
She shook her head, chest heaving from the workout as she fought a smile. But it fought back. Won. And pried a laugh out of her.
Heath liked what he saw. The healthy flush on her cheeks. A girl not afraid to take him on. Able to laugh at herself. And at him.
“Train me?” She angled a look at him. “It took you ten minutes to figure out I was next to you.”
“Five.” He extended a hand as an olive branch. As she stood, Heath steadied her. “And I was distracted.”
Jia’s smile was warm. Like the rest of her in his arms. “Yeah? What could distract a former Green Beret?”
“A beautiful woman who said it wouldn’t work.”
Her smile slipped. She took a step back. Lifted a gloved hand to her forehead where she swiped loose hair from her face.
Man, she was more skittish than Aspen’s Lab. What had her on the run? The real question, did he have the stamina to pursue?
“Want to shower up and grab some chow?”
She laughed. He could get
used to that sound. “You don’t let up, do you?”
“Not on you.”
Jia stared at him. Then looked around, which was when he noticed a few spectators. She yanked off her glove. “Okay.” Jia eased back, her eyes darting everywhere but his face.
“Out front, fifteen.”
Sweat sliding down her temples, she gave a curt nod, then strode out of the main workout room toward the showers.
Heath’s heart pounded as he used his teeth to pry off the Velcro band of his gloves. What was he doing? The scar … the TBI …
Jia.
He spun, grabbed his bag, and wrangled out of the wraps as he headed to the showers.
“One joy scatters a hundred griefs.”
Darci stared at herself in the mirror of the showers. One joy. Heath definitely qualified. It’d been stupid, really, to goad him. She felt foolish, as if she’d returned to junior high.
But his expression …
A giggle slipped past her tough facade. Covering her mouth with her hand, she used the other to brace herself against the porcelain sink. What are you doing?
“Crows everywhere are equally black.”
What was this? War of the ancient Chinese proverbs? Darci tucked her chin. The point was—just as crows were black in China and in America, men were …
No. There was a world of difference between Jianyu and Heath. She saw it. Felt it. Heath’s character had a moral base. He didn’t even know her, and already she felt challenged. How did he know? She searched the mirror for signs of distress on her face. How did he know someone had hurt her?
Heath wanted the chance to prove he wasn’t like Jianyu. But that meant being vulnerable.
She squeezed her eyes tight. She wanted it. Wanted a family. Wanted to not be alone anymore. What he said, what he did … it was what she wanted. Yearned for.
But you don’t deserve that. You sold your soul in Taipei City.
Heath would never understand. Darci straightened, then blew out a breath. Enough pining over the hunky dog handler. Time to return to reality.
Her gaze struck the EXIT sign. She pivoted, tugged her pack off the bench, and strode out the door. Grief and regret nipped at her heels, but she stomped onward. She made the right decision, no matter how much it yanked out her heart.
Icy wind slapped her face, hard and unwelcoming.
“Ready?”
Darci stopped cold as Heath came off the back wall of the building, sporting a field jacket. “What are you—?”
“Come on. I’ve got two hours to change your mind.”
Mortar rounds in the distance echoed those in her chest. “About?” He knew she would try to skip out on him. The guilt felt a thousand times worse than if he hadn’t. She was an absolute heel.
He winked and eased her pack from her hands. He slung it over his arm and guided her down Route Disney, the main thoroughfare through Bagram.
“Where, exactly, are we headed?”
“There’s a Thai restaurant down by the shops.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans.
“How’d you know I like Thai?”
“I didn’t.” He grinned. “It’s my favorite. Sorry—being selfish here. Last good meal for a while.”
Why did she not believe that? Because Heath seemed to anticipate every move. Every thought. It hit her like the bitter wind roiling through the base: if he’d known, she probably would’ve gotten more nervous. Would’ve backed out.
Which is what she needed to do.
Darci stopped and turned. “Heath.”
With his lightning-fast reflexes, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, his jacket gaping and forcing her to press against his T-shirt. Warmth tingled against her fingertips. Awareness flared through her. That hunger … No no no. It roared for prominence, for satiation.
“Jia.” Every morsel of lightheartedness vanished as he looked down at her. “It’s one date—lunch, if that makes you more comfortable.”
Her throat constricted. She lifted her hands from his chest, from feeling the rhythm of his heart beneath her right palm, then let them rest again. “Why …? Why can’t you just let it alone?”
“Because.” He craned his neck to the side to look into her eyes.
At that moment, she was lost. Lost to her own mechanisms that kept her safe. That suffocated her lone dream.
A slow smile slid across Heath’s face as he smoothed his knuckles along her cheek. “Because of what’s happening right here …” He lowered his head toward hers, eyes on her lips.
Swirls of warmth and cold, exhilaration and dread, spiked simultaneously. I can’t.
But she couldn’t move.
Heath’s breath caressed her cheek.
She lifted her head, pulse thudding against her own inner warnings. If she did this, if she let this happen …
A face ignited from the past.
Darci shoved Heath back. Blinked. Shook her head. “No.” She spun on her heels and started away.
Heath hooked her arm. “Jia.”
She stopped. “Please …” It hurt. To hope. To feel what she felt with him. It scared her. Beyond any imagining.
“I’m sorry.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “You’re right. That was too fast. I just …”
“What?” She didn’t want to ask that, but she needed to regain her fortitude against his stealth romance.
“I want this to work.”
Her heart misfired. “Why?” Vulnerability skated along that single syllable, but if he was going to pull out the stops and be blunt, so was she. “Why do you want this to work?”
“Because I’ve never felt anything like this. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kill the guy who hurt you, and my dog likes you.”
A chuckle leaped up her throat. “Your dog?”
“Hey, Trinity’s a very discerning animal.”
She couldn’t help the laugh. Because she knew he was right. She’d seen those dogs in action. Knew their loyalty rested with their handlers and no one else.
The muscle along his strong, angular jaw bounced. “If you want to take it slow, we will. But don’t shut me out. I see it in your face, hear it in your words, Jia.”
Darci.
“You want ‘us,’ too. So let’s figure it out, RockGirl.”
Her lips tweaked in a smile all their own. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”
“And lose one of the ways I can make you smile?”
She swung her gaze to him. He wanted to make her smile? Willing to take things at a different pace just for her? “Are you for real?” “
Let me kiss you, and then you tell me.”
“Ha.” Darci laughed harder, too pleased with the attention and determination of Heath Daniels, and started walking. “Are we going to eat or what?”
Nine
Dawn cracked the day with a splinter of blue. That lone sliver of light through the dark sky allowed Heath to take in the bustling base. Teams gearing up to head out for patrol. Others in formation for drill. Beyond the barricade that held in the patriots and kept out the terrorists—in theory—loomed the mountains. In the distance to the north, he saw the same shape that had stolen his career.
No, a bad intel decision and an ambush stole it. Not some innocuous scrap of land. God shut the door on his career and his hopes.
Heath slowed to a lazy jog as he and Trinity skirted the airfield on their third circuit. A stream of people crossed the sand to a waiting Black Hawk. Among them—Jia.
Impulse stopped Heath. Trinity sat, but her panting and a small whimper indicated she had spotted her, too. Stretching his arms over his head, he watched the team board. Yesterday had defined things for him. He wasn’t so sure about her. More accurately, she wasn’t sure what she felt. Probably too tangled up in the past, tangled up in whoever had hurt her that she was terrified to risk a relationship again.
A guy about the same size as Heath spoke to Jia. She glanced over her shoulder to him, the backwash from the rotors whipping her hair i
nto her face. Across those eyes. A smile, shy and still uncertain, flickered across the distance.
Why did he care? She wouldn’t commit to save her life. And he’d pulled out all the stops. When was the last time—never. He’d never been that bold or direct. He was messed up.
And yet … he stood here, like a lost puppy, wishing she’d been willing to try.
The desire was there, buried deep in her past. It was okay. He wasn’t going to rush it. Wasn’t going to stress. Something in him said this wasn’t the last time he’d see her.
But that didn’t stop the desperate feeling that she was getting away.
She strapped into the chopper, her back to the pilots and facing Heath.
Trinity barked.
A smile slid into Jia’s face. Her hand lifted an inch. So. That’s it: good-bye.
Why was he acting like a chump? He had her figured out, really. That inch of a raised hand was a mile for her, which meant she was trying. He could live with that. For now.
He ruffled the top of Trinity’s head. “C’mon.” He made his final circuit, passing several other choppers. Lucky ducks would get a fast trip to wherever they were going. Of course, they were twenty-million-dollar targets for RPGs. Then again, the MRAP and Humvees that would ferry him and the A Breed Apart team to their next gig, though not as expensive, were just as vulnerable.
Vulnerable … yeah, he’d exposed his backside to Jia for a nuke of a rejection.
But then he’d pushed it back into her court, cornered her as best as he could. Convincing her not to repel what she felt for him was like trying to get a cat to take a bath.
At his tent, Heath placed Trinity in her crate with some fresh water and headed to the showers, ready to wash the dirt, grime, and frustration from his body. It was okay. He wasn’t in a place where he could nurture a relationship—or more important, where he wanted to. They had time. And his life was screwed up enough with his uncle in the soldier’s home and his own failings, thanks to the TBI. He hadn’t even told Jibril about blacking out on the way over. Thankfully, it was a short one.
Most people who weren’t familiar with the blackouts would never realize what happened because they came and went in seconds. It’d seem as if he was just disoriented or lost in his thoughts. Still, it was a problem. But if he stressed about it, the symptoms would grow worse.
