Garret shook his head and gave Shay a wry look. “Kira was a member in our Special Forces A team for three years.”
“Oh,” Shay whispered, her hand flying to her lips, her eyes suddenly huge as she stared at Kira.
Kira managed a jerky nod, her gaze never leaving Garret’s. “Y-you’re okay? I tried to find you, Garret, but I never could . . .” and her voice died into an aching whisper of regret. She saw his eyes grow stormy, that well-shaped mouth of his thinning as he regarded her.
“It’s okay,” he rumbled. Pointing at his left temple, he said gruffly, “I had amnesia for six months after I was flown to Bethesda. I didn’t even know my own name until my memory came back on its own.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I tried to find you, but I never could. I’m sorry, too . . .”
His low, emotional explanation filtered through her shock. A lump formed in her throat and she couldn’t speak for a moment, overwhelmed with so much that had happened to them during the ambush. “I-I understand,” she managed hoarsely, “you were shot in the head. I-I remember . . .” Kira remembered everything. Her weekly nightmares guaranteed that. She saw Garret’s face crumple with pain for a moment before he put on his game face.
“Oh my God,” Shay said, looking at first one and then the other, “you worked together?”
“Yeah,” Garret said, moving his shoulders as if to get rid of tension. “Black ops, Shay. Top secret.”
Shay stared at Kira. “I-I didn’t know you knew Garret.”
Kira managed to look at Shay. “I didn’t know he was here.” She waved her hand in a helpless gesture. “We were both wounded in a firefight. I was sent to Bethesda after being at Landstuhl and lost track of him.” Swallowing hard, Kira held Garret’s unfathomable look. She could feel the bombshell reaction inside him, but it didn’t transfer to his game face, which remained unreadable. She honestly didn’t know if he was glad to see her or not. A year had passed since they’d last been together. A year that felt like a lifetime of pain and anguish to her without his larger-than-life presence in it.
Now he was standing six feet away from her, incredibly handsome, confident, the old Garret she knew from the team. His face had deeper lines around his mouth now, given the terrible circumstances they’d barely survived. It told Kira of the suffering he’d gone through, too.
Reese Lockhart ambled out of his office and down the hall. He stopped in the kitchen doorway, nodding hello to Garret. “What’s going on?” he asked his wife.
Shay quickly filled him in.
Reese gave Garret a long look, and then his gaze drifted to Kira. “Looks like you two have a lot of catching up to do, then,” he said. “Kira, are you okay still being assigned to Garret’s house? Or would you rather not?”
Kira looked at Garret. He seemed as surprised as hell at the question. But then she saw an emotion in his eyes, a flash for a second that she couldn’t translate. “Well . . . I-I don’t know. It’s up to Garret—”
“It’s fine,” Garret told them in no uncertain terms. “Kira is welcome to stay with me.”
Relief avalanched through Kira. For a brief moment she saw a thawing in Garret’s hazel eyes. Her heart squeezed with powerful emotion and she felt suffused by joy. She didn’t know how Garret felt toward her. They’d always been friends, as she was with all the men of the A team. Nothing more. And she’d held secret her love for this man who was so heroic, a warrior and a good person, who had helped so many in those three years they’d worked together.
Her feelings for him were still her secret. Even now. Probably forever. Some of Kira’s joy dissolved. They had never talked about how they felt about each other. Always friends. Never anything more intimate.
Reese touched Garret’s broad shoulder. “You got the paperwork from those two jobs?”
“Yeah,” he said, rummaging around in the pocket of his sheepskin coat. Garret handed them to Reese.
“Great,” Reese said. “Let’s get business out of the way and then you can take Kira home with you.”
Giving a nod, Garret said, “Sounds good.” And then he looked at Kira. “This won’t take long. I’ll be right back.”
Kira didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She so badly wanted to hug the hell out of Garret, to welcome him back into her life. Shay was watching her with some confusion and she offered, “We were on an A team in Afghanistan for three years.”
“I know Special Forces teams try to stay together for long periods of time.” Shay searched her eyes. “But you’re a woman. I didn’t know they had women in A teams.”
“It was a top-secret operation,” Kira hedged. She couldn’t speak to anyone about it. Not ever. Garret knew because he, like the other eleven men on the team, had signed legal documents swearing to keep the operation confidential. Shay sat back, digesting the information.
“Okay,” she said, “but is this going to be a stress or pressure on either of you? It looks like you lost track of each other.”
“Yes, we did. I didn’t know he had amnesia. It would explain why he never tried to contact me,” Kira said quietly. She clasped her damp, cool fingers in her lap beneath the table, all her emotions in play. For the last year she’d thought Garret had chosen to remain out of her life. Now . . . she knew differently.
“You tried to locate him afterward?”
“Yes,” and Kira held on to tears that burned in the back of her eyes. She closed them, taking in a ragged breath. “Our team was so tight, Shay. We were family . . .”
“Garret only told us once, during a therapy session, that of the twelve men in his team, only two survived.” Shay gave her an anguished look. “That’s so tragic.”
It hurt to breathe at that moment because it brought everything back to Kira. Avoiding Shay’s compassionate look, she whispered brokenly, “Y-yes, all of the other guys . . . dead. It was—horrible—awful . . .”
“Garret never said the other survivor was a woman.”
“He couldn’t. Legally, Shay, I was part of a top-secret operation. It couldn’t be talked about. Not even here, not even with other military vets.”
“God,” Shay whispered, her hand against her throat, grief in her expression, “that had to be so terrible on both of you . . . to lose so many friends all at once that you’d known for so long . . .”
Unable to breathe for a moment, Kira wrestled with all her grief, her loss. “I-it lives in me every day, Shay. Three years of my life were with those guys. Every one of them was a stand-up man. They were brave men who did good things for the people of the village we lived in.” She compressed her lips, hanging her head and closing her eyes, trying not to cry. Shay was so kind and caring that it made it easy for Kira to talk with her, to allow her feelings to surface. General Ward had been right: Shay Lockhart was a true maternal, loving woman. And it was something she’d missed so much, no longer having her own mother in her life. At the same time, Kira knew her top-secret life in the Army had to remain as such.
“Listen,” Shay said softly, “I’m here for you, Kira. I understand what top secret means, but it doesn’t stop you from talking to me about your feelings. We all need someone to lean on when trauma happens in our lives. If you ever want to unload, come and see me.”
Warmth cascaded through Kira as she lifted her head and met Shay’s kind blue gaze. “Y-yes, maybe in time. I need to prove my worth around here first.”
“I’m sure you will. I’m here for you, Kira. Just remember that. Okay?”
Kira heard men’s voices drifting down the hall, honing in on Garret’s deep voice. She heard laughter between the men and then the heavy, thunking sound of Garret’s boots striking the oak floor, coming in their direction. Her stomach knotted. Her heart started a slow pound, adrenaline leaking into her bloodstream. What was she going to say to Garret when they were alone? What was he going to say to her? Or do? Her mouth became dry and Kira seesawed between heaven and hell. She felt so tentative, so unsure about Garret. How did he feel about her? She honestly didn’t know exce
pt that he always had been her friend on the team. But so was every other man.
* * *
Garret pulled a hard rein in on his emotions. He’d been Special Forces for a long time and knew that emotion, when uncontrolled, could lead to people getting killed.
As he drove Kira over to the house in the truck, he felt trapped. He had nowhere to run to hide from the past. He’d fallen hopelessly in love with Kira from almost the moment she’d joined their team, and then suppressed it, not allowing it to surface. He felt gut-punched. Kira was a brutal reminder of his past and that firefight he’d buried so damn deep within himself. He’d struggled to make sure it never surfaced again. Now, with her beside him, going to be a part of his life twenty-four hours a day, he felt scared and unsure. She was the only other survivor. She was a reminder of everything he never wanted to feel or remember again.
Garret was shocked by how she looked. Kira used to be strong, vibrant and darkly tanned. Her smile had been constant, her teasing not hurtful but infectious. The children of the village had adored her, called her mother in Pashtun. She was a hard worker, a team person, someone every man could count on.
He’d fallen helplessly in love with this woman from his past. And he’d thought he’d lost her. But she was sitting beside him. The violent need for her, to pull her into his arms, crush her against him, feel her woman’s body and heat, savagely tore through Garret. He was wrestling with the fear of the past rising up to overwhelm him right along with his powerful yearning to hold, kiss and love Kira until they melted into each other.
What the hell was he going to do?
His mouth thinned as he drove slowly around the ranch house and down the newly created road that passed in front of all four houses that had been built about fifty feet apart from one another. Snow glittered like diamonds across the covered tops of the dark green, steeply sloped tin roofs. Already, the snow that had fallen last night had slid off the roof, keeping the excessive weight from causing the entire area to stress.
His gloved hands opened and closed around the wheel as he tried to figure out how to handle this situation. What had led him to say it was all right that Kira lived under his roof? What the hell was wrong with him? All she’d do was be a raw, constant reminder of everything he didn’t want to remember or feel.
What kind of sick, twisted life had he been living since the firefight? Chaos seemed to be part and parcel of Garret’s life ever since he’d awoken in Bethesda not even knowing his name. It had taken six months before everything suddenly downloaded and he’d had his complete memory back. Some of it, he wished fervently, hadn’t returned. The deaths of his ten friends haunted him without relief.
Pulling up to the house, the snow on the ground from an October storm had fallen two days earlier, the bright sunlight glancing off the western side of the sprawling ranch house, Garret said gruffly, “Here’s your new home, Kira. Let’s go in.”
He tried not to be affected by her thinness. Or the dark smudges beneath her glorious gray eyes, which used to sparkle like soft diamonds when she laughed. An ache settled deep in his heart as Garret walked to the cleared concrete sidewalk sprinkled with salt pellets and took the four steps to the back porch.
Opening the door, he gestured for her to go in first. The Kira he knew had been vibrant, vulnerable, easily touched and accessible to the rest of the team. Now, as she moved past him like a ghost from his lost past, he saw how closed-up she’d become. PTSD did that to a person. It had done it to him. Noah and Harper were the same.
Mouth compressed, Garret hungrily watched her move onto the mud porch and stomp her boots to get the snow off. Feeling like a starved wolf sexually speaking, he wanted her all over again. There hadn’t been a day that went by in Afghanistan that he hadn’t hungered to take her, bury himself into her hot depths and share her returning fire and need. He looked at her bare hands. Kira had long, thin fingers that were so graceful it made his lower body throb with need. How many hundreds of times had Garret dreamed of those hands roaming his body? Exploring him, learning what made him feel good? Imagining what it would feel like as she glided her fingertips across his hardened flesh?
Groaning inwardly, he went inside and closed the door. He’d never let Kira know any of his desire for her. It would have destroyed the team in so many bad ways, so he’d stuffed it. Just as he’d stuffed his horror over that firefight. Out of sight, out of mind. Now Kira was here and Garret could no longer forget any of it. Or his feelings toward her.
Kira stood, hands shoved in the pockets of her nylon parka to warm them, studying Garret. He saw sadness and grief in her expression and it kicked him in the gut. Dammit, he’d spent six months violently shoving down all his emotions since remembering that deadly ambush. There was no way he wanted to connect with any of those feelings. He tried not to remember any of his friends. Their laughter. Their personalities. Their wives . . . their children he knew as if they were his own family. His heart felt like it had a deep, unending ache within it, getting more painful by the minute. Scowling, he wanted to blame Kira for bringing up all the shit he had so viciously tried to avoid.
Garret strode past her and opened the door that led directly into the kitchen. He hated that she gave him that look of vulnerability, as if seeking his protection against something. What? Him? He knew he was growly and irritable. PTSD at work. Kira looked down, her hands jammed deep in her coat pockets, and slipped by him like a wraith. He could smell her feminine scent along with the cold, clean winter air. It was like breathing life into his dead body; he couldn’t get enough of her, wanting desperately to grip her shoulders, turn her around and yank her into his arms. That’s what she needed, Garret realized. Kira felt stripped and naked thanks to her PTSD; he would bet anything on that. The look in her eyes wasn’t something he’d never seen before. Once, she’d been such a strong, confident, outgoing young woman. Full of life. Full of promise. And he’d never stopped loving her.
Garret took off his Stetson and dropped it on a wooden peg next to the kitchen door. He turned, seeing that Kira had stopped near the granite island in the middle of the large, bright kitchen. She was so damned pale. In Afghanistan, she’d been deeply tanned, her black hair short, blue highlights dancing through those thick, silky strands.
Kira had never worn any makeup of any kind in the Army. The odor of cosmetic products would, first of all, alert the enemy that they were nearby if on a mission or patrol. Hell, she didn’t need anything anyway, her black lashes long and thick, a frame for her incredible dove-gray eyes that were truly a window into her soul, to her many emotions.
She could never hide anything from him. She cried when an infant, just born, died shortly afterward. She held the mother, who rocked the dead baby in her arms, crying with her. Kira was so easily touched. Now? Garret could feel the wall around her. Trying to lock whatever she was feeling within those walls, keep the rest of the world out. She was afraid anyone she let in would shred her raw and bleed her out. That’s how he felt every day with PTSD. It was an endless, tiring and wearing exercise. And he could see how worn down she had become.
His heart twinged. “Come on,” he said, softening his gruff tone, gesturing for her to follow him, “I’ll show you to your bedroom.”
Walking down the oak hall, their boots echoing, Garret pushed open a door on the right, swinging it wide. He stepped aside and said, “This is yours . . .”
Kira hesitated. “Where is your room, Garret?”
Lifting his thumb across his shoulder, he said, “Right across the hall. Why?” Because he saw her wrinkle her nose, her gray eyes darken.
Giving him a shy look, unable to hold his penetrating stare, she whispered, “Sometimes . . . sometimes I wake up screaming at night.” She pushed strands of hair off her brow in a nervous gesture. “My own screams wake me. They woke my father every time. That’s why I had to leave his house. I kept waking him up.” Her lips quirked. “I don’t want to wake you . . .”
Garret forced his hands to remain on his hip
s. He was a tall, broad man, filling up the hallway. Kira was half his size and looked so damned vulnerable. He wanted to slide his hand across her wan cheek, cup it, lean down and kiss her tenderly to reassure her that everything would be all right. Garret knew better. There was nothing right with either of them anymore. They were twisted, wounded, distorted human beings trying to act and behave normally when normal had been destroyed in that ambush a year ago.
He cleared his throat and rasped, “Don’t worry about it. I do my fair share of screaming in nightmares, too. Let’s look at the positive side of it. We can start a symphony.” His teasing eased the tight line of her lips. She studied him, her large, soft eyes widening as she searched his. Heart beating to underscore the ache now centering in his lower body, Garret cursed to himself. He had no damned defense against Kira, he realized sharply. That unstrung him for a second. And then Garret realized the awful truth about Kira: she, too, was facing the demons within her from that ambush. He saw it reflected in her sad eyes, the parting of her lips that tempted him as nothing else ever had. Kira wasn’t hiding from what had happened.
That terrified Garret more than anything else. He had successfully hidden from his grief and pain for six months. What was he going to do now?
Chapter Three
Garret muttered, “The bathroom is next to my room,” and he made a quick gesture in that direction. “I’ll get your bags for you.”
Kira nodded, standing uncertainly at the open door to her room. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Turning, Garret felt the anxiety that was constantly there amp up like a monster within him. Always, he wrestled the need to run, deep back down inside himself, as he strode through the kitchen. Just getting out in the cold, crisp afternoon air that he dragged deeply into his lungs helped settle his desire to run.
Shaking his head, he walked up the road, around the main ranch house and opened the door to Kira’s pickup truck. Inside was a ninety-pound duffel bag. It was familiar and brought back so many unwanted memories. With a curse, he yanked it out of the truck, hefting it over one broad shoulder. He slammed the door a little harder than he’d intended.
Wind River Cowboy Page 3
