Winter's Fire

by Christie Adams

  The cuts and grazes were healing too, thanks to Lucy’s care, especially the knife wound she’d stitched. A course of intravenous antibiotics on the way to Miami had taken care of any developing infection, but even so, Sir Guy had still ordered him to see the unit doc when they arrived at headquarters. He’d duly done so, only to receive a second verdict that echoed what the Royal Navy medic had said.

  The debriefing session that followed went much as Logan had anticipated, with the welcome exception of the lack of disciplinary action for endangering Lucy. The exact opposite had occurred—Sir Guy had even gone so far as to thank him for bringing her home safely.

  Of course, his CO hadn’t yet received Lucy’s report, so there was every chance his career could still go down the pan.

  At the end of their meeting, Sir Guy had offered him a piece of advice, which Logan still wasn't sure he’d take. That advice was to give Lucy some space.

  So he’d written up his report and tried not to think of her. Tried not to remember the look on her face when Diana had run to him in the cell, or the way she’d pretended to be asleep on the plane.

  Damn it to hell!

  Why the fuck hadn’t he come clean with Lucy in the first place? And in what universe was allowing Diana to dig her talons into him again the best way to protect Lucy from her?

  Christ, he was the biggest fuck-up in creation.

  Frustration drove Logan’s fist against the wall. The need to be with Lucy was eating away at him, but he couldn’t give in. She needed patience from him. What he’d never forget, though, was the hurt in her gaze when he’d joined her and Sir Guy at the airport, after taking his leave of Sir Malcolm and his family. Only a glimpse before her expression became shuttered, but it was enough to tell him she was unlikely to be receptive to anything he had to say for quite some time.

  How the hell was he going to convince her after the show Diana had put on? He’d have to pull out all the stops if he was going to claim her, and that probably meant going toe-to-toe with her brothers. No problem. He’d particularly relish taking on Sam for not letting him near Lucy on the ship.

  Sir Guy had said something about her going into the office tomorrow. It was too soon—if he went in with a view to catching her there, he’d be giving her almost no space at all—but it was neutral territory. She wouldn’t come to him here, and he couldn’t go to her place—hell, he didn’t even fucking know where her place was.

  So much for patience. He was supposed to be on leave, but the more he thought about it, the more inclined Logan was to ignore the implicit order in Sir Guy’s suggestion that he take a couple of days off.

  Morning couldn’t come soon enough. He wasn’t going to sleep well, that was for sure. He was already primed to fight for a future with his girl, and he was determined to win, whatever it took. This was the most important mission he’d ever undertake, and he was not going to fail.

  ~~*~~

  “Lucy, it’s good to see you. Thank you for coming in early. Come and sit down, and tell me how you are. Did you manage to get some sleep?”

  “I did, thank you, Sir Guy.” Lucy settled in one of the armchairs. “It’s good to be back.”

  “The doctor tells me you’re in good shape, apart from some superficial injuries she expects to be healed before long, which I’m very glad to hear.”

  “Just a few bumps and scratches. Logan came off far worse.”

  “Yes, I know. The medical officer checked him out. A few more days and he’ll be back on top form. But what I want to talk about this morning, is you—how you feel, and what are your thoughts about what happened.”

  “Sir, I emailed my report—”

  “Yes, I know. I read it first thing this morning. And don’t think the time stamp on the email escaped me, either. That could have waited until today.

  “However, the content of your report… Lucy, you did a remarkable job over there. I’m going to put you forward for a commendation. No, hear me out. You went above and beyond what was expected of you, and if it hadn’t been for you… Well, suffice to say, Mr. Simmonds and Miss Carstairs both owe you their lives.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Sir Guy steepled his fingers. “And I owe you an apology. If I’d had any idea of how events would turn out, I never would have allowed you to go.”

  “I did volunteer, sir. And I know how to take care of myself.”

  “Apparently so.” To her surprise, he chuckled, but then became sober once more. “Be that as it may, what you’ve learned from your brothers in no way prepared you fully for being taken prisoner and having to fight for your life. That’s a traumatic situation for even the best-prepared officer. I think it would be advisable for you to see one of our counsellors.”

  “Thank you, but I’m fine, sir, really.”

  He was looking at her so steadily now that Lucy found it difficult not to squirm.

  “Lucy, I wasn’t making a suggestion. Do you know anything about PTSD? It doesn’t always strike immediately—it can be weeks or even years after the events that cause it. I know you’re about to go on leave, but when you get back, I want you to make an appointment. Understood?”

  A protest died on her lips. It was good to know someone was looking out for her. “Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”

  “And call them if you feel you need to while you’re away. So, now that you’re back, do you have any thoughts about how you see your future panning out?”

  Her night’s sleep hadn’t been unbroken, and in the early hours, that was exactly what she’d been reflecting upon. Her struggle to find the right words must have been reflected in her expression.

  “Then let me ask you this, Lucy. Would you do it again? Not the same mission all over again, but something of a similar nature?”

  “Yes.” The word came from her heart, less so her brain. Maybe she no longer even had a brain, if she was coming out with what most regular people would call sheer idiocy.

  “That sounds very decisive—wouldn’t you prefer to have some time to think it over?”

  She probably should think it over—probably would, if she hadn’t had her own agenda—which reminded her of something.

  “Sir Guy, I owe you an apology. I wasn’t honest when I applied for the job as your secretary. I had an ulterior motive.”

  “Go on.” His expression gave away nothing, but the way he tugged on his waistcoat told her she’d better have a good explanation.

  “I didn’t join the armed forces for family reasons. With hindsight, it may not have been the right decision, but I can’t change that. Instead, as I’ve told you, I nagged the boys into teaching me everything they could. I learned about this unit from them, and… it inspired me. I couldn’t take the normal path to recruitment, so I set out to use the skills and experience I did have. I joined the civil service and took every opportunity to move closer to this office. If I could get a role here, then I thought I’d—”

  “Wait for a suitable opening, and make the most of it?”

  Her boss quirked an eyebrow. At least he yelling at her—not yet, at any rate. “Something like that. I know it was a stupid idea, a million-to-one shot, but I couldn’t think of a better way of getting my foot in the door, so to speak.”

  The conversation was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. Sir Guy’s temporary secretary entered, bearing a fully laden tea tray. “Can I get you anything else, Sir Guy?”

  “No, thank you. That’ll be all, Sheila. Please hold all my calls until Miss Winter leaves.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  The door closed behind her. Lucy automatically went to pick up the teapot, but was stopped by the forbidding expression on Sir Guy’s face.

  “Allow me.”

  This was definitely an experience to be filed under S for surreal, watching a knight of the realm pour a cup of tea for her.

  The blend was English Breakfast, her favourite, and brewed to perfection. There wasn’t much a good cup of tea couldn’t put right—with the exception, perhaps
, of the situation with Logan.

  “So, Lucy, the question now is, where do we go from here? You’ll need time to figure things out, I imagine, but you need to know what your options are, which is where I can help.”

  “Thank you, sir, I’d appreciate that. To be honest, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I did wonder if I’d be facing a disciplinary at best, or you’d just fire me for gross insubordination.” Not the best way to watch the clock move from 2 a.m. to 3 a.m.

  “Young lady, if I took either course of action, I’d have to question my sanity. That’s not to say there won’t be questions from on high, but that’s for me to deal with.

  “So, your future. Simmonds has already submitted his report, including his assessment of how you acquitted yourself. Based on what you’ve both told me, I can give you my view of possible options for the future to add to your own thoughts on the matter, if that would help to inform your decision?”

  “Thank you, sir.” Butterflies started a mad tarantella in her stomach. Even though her boss had already eliminated her twin fears from the discussion, she was still nervous about what he’d say.

  “In my opinion, were you to return to your former position, it would be an abominable waste of your potential. How do you feel about making the most of it, instead?”

  Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “That almost sounds like… Actually, I’m not sure what that sounds like.”

  “It sounds like what it is.” Sir Guy set his cup and saucer down on the coffee table, so he could settle back in the armchair, with his elbows resting on the arms and his hands clasped over his stomach. “You have a fire in your belly for this job, but as you pointed out yourself, you don’t have military experience. I don’t have the patience to wait while you get it, even if you were willing to sign up. What we can do is take the skills and experience you already have, and train you up—take what’s already good and make it better, and fill in any gaps.”

  “Then you’re offering me a role as a field officer?”

  “Trainee to begin with, but based on what you and Simmonds accomplished together, I’d be a fool not to. I have no doubt you’d make a highly effective member of the team once we bring you up to speed.”

  Even though she’d hoped for this outcome, Lucy was still stunned. “I don’t know what to say, sir.”

  “For now, don’t say anything. It’s a lot to take in, I know. You’ll need time to make your decision. I know you’re about to take a couple of weeks off—might I suggest you extend it to at least three? Take a month if you like, you’ve earned it. Give the matter plenty of thought, don’t rush your decision, and when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. The offer’s there, to join us, and if you do decide to take it up, you’d be very welcome.”

  “And if I don’t?” She needed to know what the options were.

  “Your old job will be waiting for you, and should you decide you’d rather not come back to the unit in any capacity, I will—with great reluctance—provide any assistance you need to secure another role in the civil service. Or outside, if I can.”

  Lucy was almost speechless. First she got the cake, then the icing, and now Sir Guy had presented her with the cherry to crown it all.

  “Thank you very much, Sir Guy. I’m fairly sure I already know what my answer’s going to be, but I appreciate the time. I’m going to visit my family, as you know, and if it’s all right with you, I was planning to head north pretty much right after this meeting.”

  “That’s fine, Lucy. And if you have any questions while you’re away, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  There was one question she had already. “Sir? Logan… I haven’t… Is he all right?”

  “He’s fine. A little the worse for wear, but he’s taking a couple of days off to recuperate. Supposed to be, anyway. Frankly, though, I shouldn’t be surprised if he’s back on duty tomorrow. Bloody indestructible, Royal Marines. Anything else?”

  “I don’t think so, sir, unless you have any more questions about the assignment?”

  Sir Guy shook his head. “You covered everything in your report. As I mentioned, Simmonds has already submitted his, so we now have as full a picture as we’re going to get. So, if that’s all, I suggest you get on your way.”

  “I will—and thank you for everything, sir.”

  Lucy left Sir Guy’s office with two sets of vastly different emotions vying for superiority. Overjoyed though she was about the offer to join the unit as a trainee, there was also the prospect of being around Logan every day. Working with him was one thing, but Lucy wasn't sure she could do it with the constant thought at the back of her mind that she’d been nothing more than an inconsequential diversion until he could get back with the woman he truly wanted.

  Chapter 22

  With his plans blown to shit, Logan returned to his apartment to work out what the hell he was going to do next.

  The temp occupying Lucy’s desk had greeted him with the news that he’d missed her. Yes, Miss Winter had been in for a medical exam and an early meeting with Sir Guy, but not only was she no longer on the premises, she was taking some time off, and wasn’t expected back for up to a month.

  That left him with only on way to contact her, and she wasn’t answering. Every call he tried went to voicemail. He hadn’t left any messages, because there was no reality in which leaving a fucking voicemail was going to improve the situation. This had to be done in person.

  Logan was still assessing his options when the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of an unexpected visitor. For a wild moment, he wondered if it might be Lucy, only for his hopes to be dashed by the apparition that was his commanding officer, the last person he expected to see on his doorstep.

  He followed Guy back to the main room. “Please, sit down. Can I get you a drink?”

  “No, thank you—another time, perhaps. Sheila told me you came to the office asking about Lucy.”

  That was Sir Guy all right, straight to the point. “I want to talk to her, but she’s gone away somewhere. I was just about to try and figure out where.”

  “I thought that might be the case, in spite of our earlier discussion on the matter. May I offer you some advice?”

  Logan shrugged—he had a feeling he’d get it anyway, no matter what he said.

  “Give her the time I mentioned. She’ll be completely safe where she’s going. You don’t need me to tell you she’s had a tough time, and she’s facing some big decisions. She needs to adjust and consider all her options.”

  “I don’t think you understand—”

  “I do, Logan. More than you know. If you go after her now, confront her with another decision, she’ll make a bolt for it, but if you give her a chance to miss you, you’ll take away a lot of her motivation to run.”

  Frustrated though he was by the stance his boss had taken, Logan understood why he’d taken it. There was no way Sir Guy was going to reveal her whereabouts, but he’d given Logan a clue—the safest place she could possibly be was with her family.

  In addition, Lucy herself had let slip a fair amount of personal information along the way. With a little research, he was sure he could come up with something to guide him in the right direction.

  He’d find her. It might just take some time. Because whatever Sir Guy might think, the last thing Lucy needed was space.

  What she needed… was him.

  ~~*~~

  One more left turn, and she’d be home.

  All things considered, the journey north had been relatively easy, and with less than half a mile to go, she could almost taste the slice of homemade cake her mother had promised her, along with a good, strong cup of tea. Proper northern tea, not that wishy-washy stuff they brewed down south.

  Only when she’d driven away from her apartment had Lucy realised just how stressed she’d felt and why. It was all to do with Logan, and a foolish wish—in spite of everything—for him to turn up on her doorstep. The height of stupidity on so many levels—even if he’d known whe
re she lived, he’d never come to her.

  It didn’t matter, because she never wanted to see him again.

  Right. And how many times would she have to tell herself that before she believed it? What she wanted was irrelevant—for the sake of her own peace of mind, the path she’d chosen was necessary, and it was right.

  “You’re home now, and there’s no way in hell he’s turning up here!” she muttered to herself as she unfastened the seatbelt, having parked up in the spacious yard, across from the house.

  “Oh-Em-Gee!”

  The eardrum-busting yell came from the direction of the house, and yet again, Lucy rolled her eyes and shook her head at her childhood nickname. Before she could even get out of the car, two of her brothers were loping towards her—Adam, the oldest of the four, with his twin, Ben, in hot pursuit. A second later, she was enveloped in a double bear hug.

  “Put me down, you idiots, and let me get my bag!”

  “Shut up and get in the house. Mum’s waiting for you. We’ll take care of your bag and the car.”

  Lucy gave a mental groan—they were starting already. And she’d come home voluntarily? The insanity gene must have finally kicked in. Good job she loved them.

  Leaving her siblings to fight over who got her bag and who moved her car, she headed towards the house… where her mother was indeed waiting for her at the doorway, a figure as far removed from the stereotypical image of a farmer’s wife as it was possible to be. Rachel Winter was an older, slightly more slender version of her daughter, always smiling, and beautiful in a way that only came with maturity. She greeted Lucy with a fierce hug.

  “Welcome home, sweetie. Come and get settled in. Kettle’s on, and I’ve saved you that slice of cake.”

  “Mum, it’s great to be home.” Lucy rested her head against her mother’s shoulder, using the action to camouflage the foolish tears that were starting to make her eyes sting. “You actually managed to save some from the gannets?”