by Low, Gennita
He shifted his knee back onto the pillow and grimaced. The joint continued to be sore, despite his careful adherence to the therapist’s orders. His experience with this minor injury was nothing compared to Zoe’s long-term struggle. God, she was tough.
Last night, her limp had grown more pronounced. She needed to wear her brace more. She’d do well with a cane, but she’d never agree to use one. Would she still be as mobile in five years? Ten? Would she one day be in a wheel chair? Probably. His stomach clenched and he veered away from thinking about it.
As he listened to the shower running, an urge raced through him to go down the hall and join her. That would rip aside this wall of anger and distrust that had suddenly thrust up between them. He would soap his hands and slowly run them over every inch of her skin. And end the anxious dance they were doing. She would offer him the comfort—
God, what was he thinking? It would probably send her into a self-conscious panic, before he ever got that far. With a sigh, he ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair.
She had to lower the barriers when she was ready. If he pressured her too much, she might push him away. But damn, it was hard to wait. He’d never had to work this hard to earn a woman’s trust.
Did the challenge she presented have anything to do with the strength of his attraction, or was it just, Zoe? If they did hook up, would his feelings change? Would his desire plane out like it usually did?
The shower stopped. She’d go back to Kentucky eventually. The thought, like a warning, nipped at his half-aroused state with the coldness of reason. Zoe was attached to her family, really attached. The chances she’d stay out here ran from, not very likely to no F-ing way.
She had a life in Kentucky, a profession she was licensed to practice there. So why was he getting involved with her? There were other women with a hell-of-a lot less baggage, who would stick around. Why was he putting so much effort into wooing her?
Because he’d been hot for her since the first time he’d seen her.
But then what?
Was a short-term affair what she was looking for? A little experience under her belt? A little experience—Zoe was a virgin, he’d bet his SEAL insignia on it. And he’d be her first. The term virgin territory took on a whole new meaning as he allowed the implications to sink in.
“Jesus.” He sat up, his heart pounding as though he’d done a five-K run full out. Zoe wouldn’t give herself lightly. He was already finding that out—first hand. He was suddenly hot and hard as a cruise missile. He groaned aloud at how his own thoughts ran to cheesy puns that did nothing to relieve the pressure. But she’d still leave and he’d have to deal with it, if he got in too deep.
A loud thump sounded from somewhere down the hall and the water glass on his nightstand shook. He shoved off the bed to his feet, her name on his lips.
“Zoe?” he yelled louder, two long strides taking him out into the hall.
Her silence had him swearing as he broke into a trot, his knee protested. Her room was empty, and he passed on to the bathroom door. Resting his hands on the door facing, he called through it, “You okay, Zoe?”
“I’m okay. I just have a Charlie horse.” Her tone sounded strained. “Just give me a minute.”
A soft groan pumped his already galloping heartbeat up a notch. “I’m coming in,” he warned as he turned the knob. She was sitting in the floor clothed in lightweight pants. He caught a glimpse of lush, well-shaped breasts before she grabbed the towel from around her hair and covered herself.
Ignoring the immediate punch to his arousal, he knelt on the ceramic tile at her feet.
Her features were set in a pained grimace as she kneaded the muscle. “God, I hate these things.”
He brushed aside her fingers and began to rub and massage the knotted muscle vigorously. At first hard as a baseball, it suddenly began to relax and give beneath his fingers.
Zoe bit her bottom lip and clenched her eyes shut. When her lids finally lifted and she looked at him, he relaxed a little. “Better?”
She nodded. “Yes. Much.” She focused on his face, her expression serious. “This is kind of a thing with me.” Her tone sounded weary.
“You mean after being on your feet a lot?” He shifted the movements of his fingers from rough to soothing and rubbed the pant leg up to her knee. Pinkish-white scars crisscrossed her calf like cracks in a hardboiled egg. Of course, both legs would have been injured in the accident. How much worse was the other one? He knew part of the calf muscle was missing.
“Yes.” Her gaze traveled from the leg he was caressing to his face. And for a moment, her blue eyes probed his expression.
“I get them, too, after too much exertion.” When she remained silent he asked, “Need a ride to your room or do you want to try and get up?”
She bit her lip. “I can get up on my own.”
Knowing she was now out of pain, he allowed his eyes to skim over the curve of her breasts visible above the towel. She looked so delicate. He ran his fingertips along her shoulder, his thumb tracing the fragile length of her collarbone. His hand looked dark against her fair skin. Feelings of protectiveness, tenderness, and desire crashed together inside him, making his voice husky. “I’ll help you up, just in case another one hits.” Rising from his kneeling position, he offered her a hand.
Once on her feet, Zoe rested a hand against his chest and the heat of her touch penetrated his t-shirt as though it weren’t there. When she tucked herself against him, he slipped an arm around her waist while he ran his hand down her back to the top of the low-slung pants. Her hair, still damp, smelled like vanilla. He curved a hand along her hip turning her into him, letting her feel his reaction to her. His heart took up the rapid tattoo of machine gun fire when she drew a deep breath and released it, her breasts pushing against his ribs.
“Sometimes, the way you look at me—,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.
He knew what she meant. He’d caught a few of her unguarded looks that had grabbed him right by the libido, and left him breathless and aching.
“I’d like to do more than just look.” He bent his head, and kissed her shoulder, his lips parted so he could taste the heat of her skin. She shivered in response and her hand curved around his neck, her fingers messaging his nape.
“Come to bed with me, Zoe. We’ll neck, and touch each other, and make each other feel good.”
She drew another breath and pressed closer to him. “God, I want to.”
Her Kentucky accent, thickened with emotion, had him smiling.
“But?”
“It’s daylight.”
“So?”
“Hawk—You just saw some of my scars.”
“Yeah, so?”
“The rest are worse. I had to have skin grafts to cover some of the really bad injuries. They had to take skin from other parts of my body to do it.” She looked away. “I look like Frankenstein from the waist down.”
“A few scars aren’t going to make a difference to me, Zoe.”
“I’ve heard that before. And it did.”
Following some of his earlier thoughts, the idea of her being with some other guy hit him with the kick of a grenade launcher. He grasped her arm. “Who was this fool?”
Her eyes widened in shock.
He forced himself to release her and take a step back. “Sorry—I just-.” Just went warrior at the thought of her giving herself to some other guy. Man he was getting in deeper and deeper. He needed to pull back.
Hadn’t Clara said something about her suddenly growing more self-conscious about her leg in college? A surge of anger had heat rising in his face. That damn creep. “He was a fool, Zoe. A damn fool.”
Her smile started out a small twitch of her lips and spread into a full-fledged grin. “Thanks.” She rose on tiptoe to brush her lips against his cheek. “He was.”
She turned her bare back to him, and reaching for the t-shirt draped over the towel bar, shimmied into it.
Hawk nearly groaned al
oud.
When she faced him, her expression had grown serious. “We need to talk about last night.” She hung the damp towel over the edge of the tub and took up her brush.
Hawk drew a deep breath. “Yeah we do.”
She ran the wide spaced bristles through the heavy mass of hair she drew over one shoulder.
“I’m sorry you had to be grilled by the police.”
Zoe shook her head. “I’m more concerned that someone we know actually set off an explosive device in your house. It just started a fire this time. They could blow the whole thing up next time.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time, Zoe.”
“You don’t know that.” She laid the brush on the edge of the sink and drew a deep breath. “I’ve been up half the night thinking about this. You have to turn this thing over to NCIS.”
“I can’t do that before reporting what’s happened to my CO.”
She remained silent, but her jaw tightened. “Where do you think Flash got the money for the car?”
“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers over his hair. “Some of the guys work security jobs in their spare time. I know Flash has done that in the past for extra money.”
“I know about military pay. And with the cost of living out here—” Zoe shook her head. “To buy a sixty thousand dollar car—it just takes my breath away to think about it.”
“When you’re young and single and the only one you have to support is you, you can afford to do something extravagant—I guess.”
“You’re young and single and I don’t see you doing stuff like that. You’ve poured every dime into this house, I’m sure.”
“My mom left me the house and she had insurance that paid the mortgage off when she died. So, I guess I’m more financially secure than most of the team. Hell, most of the platoon.”
“So why haven’t you been snapped up by some woman hungry for security and your killer body?”
Her casual tone sounded forced as though she was uncomfortable asking the question.
“It’s the hazards of the job, Zoe. It takes a special woman to stick around for the long haul once they get a taste of what it’s like to be alone for twelve or fourteen months out of a two-year span. And there’s the fact that I wouldn’t be there for someone if they got sick while I was out of the country, or had an emergency. I can’t offer the emotional security a guy with a nine-to-five job can.”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right kind of woman then. I don’t expect my family to be there for me constantly. I take care of myself. But I know I could depend on them if something came up.” she said, her voice soft, her features averted.
Was she saying she was the right kind of woman? Could she live with the separations, the worry that he might not come back every time he went wheels up? The secrecy. She wasn’t doing so well with his refusal to call NCIS. How was she going to do when he refused to tell her anything about their deployments? The speculation had his emotional radar jangling with alarm.
“What will your commander do about what happened last night?”
Probably ride his back like a forty-pound pack. “I don’t know.”
A phone rang and Hawk turned and left the bathroom. Zoe followed.
“I have to go out,” he said as he laid the receiver in its cradle.
“Yes.” Her brows rose in question, her expression expectant.
“I can’t tell you where I’m going,” he said. “You can take the car and go on to the hospital and I’ll meet you there later.”
Her eyes searched his face then dropped away. The disappointment in her expression snagged his conscience and made him uncomfortable.
By way of an apology, he felt compelled to say, “I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can.”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I can handle whatever comes up at the hospital by myself. Take your time.”
For the first time, he understood what the married members of the team went through. She viewed his not sharing as a lack of trust. He withheld information, not because he didn’t trust her, but because if she didn’t know about what he and Lang were up to, she couldn’t be compelled to testify against them.
Damn this relationship stuff was hard.
*
“If your brother doesn’t wake up within the next two weeks, we may have to think about transferring him to the long-term care facility for extra services, Ms. Weaver.”
Dr. Connelly’s words hit Zoe with the force of a wrecking ball. For a moment, her legs threatened to give way. She gripped the end of the bed in an attempt to retain her balance.
“You’re giving up on him,” her tone sounded hollow.
“No. But we do need the bed on this floor for more critical patients. Had there been a bed available we would have already transferred him to the brain injury care facility, where he could get more intensive services than we can provide here.”
Anger pushed through the shock she attempted to absorb. “Those facilities are just warehouses, Dr. Connelly, and you know it.”
The doctor’s eyes focused on her face. “Not here, Zoe. We have a state of the art facility. They’ll provide him with more of the physical therapy you’ve been doing with him yourself, as well as other services.” He paused, then looked down at Brett’s chart. “There are some medications I want to try on your brother to stimulate him, and see if we can wake him up. Some do have a few side effects, but for the most part the benefits would out-weigh the risks.”
She studied the doctor’s face searching for any kind of hope to hang onto, but his expression remained neutral. “When will you try them?”
“I’ll get the paperwork started as soon as rounds end.” He paused. “This is not like a TV movie. We’ll begin with one medication, and may have to try several before one works.”
“All right.” As the sudden rush of adrenaline eased off, she began to tremble. She folded her arms against her waist to hide her reaction.
Connelly laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I have to warn you about all the possibilities, Zoe. To drop it on you later would be like dropping a bomb on you. You’ve thought about what it would be like—should things not progress as we’d like.”
Despair threatened to smother her hope. “Brett is going to wake up.” When the words came out flat and without her normal positive exuberance, she cleared her throat and said it again with more conviction. “Brett is going to wake up.”
Connelly nodded his gray head briefly. “A nurse will be in to administer the first round of medication within the hour.”
As he and the nurse left, a wave of dizziness tackled Zoe and she had to brace her hands on her knees. Brett had to wake up. This had to work. She wouldn’t be able to bear it otherwise.
*
“I appreciate your giving me a ride to the base, Greenback,” Hawk said as they stopped at a red light in traffic.
“No problem, LT. I’ve been meaning to come by and hang out but I’ve been doing some bonding with my daughter. I missed her birth, and I’m trying to catch up.”
“How’s that going?” Hawk asked as he studied the man. Oliver Shaker, “Greenback”, maintained a solid reputation for being a squared away soldier. Though slighter built than most SEALs at five foot eight inches tall and a hundred and forty-five pounds, Hawk had seen the man lift an unconscious guy nearly half again his weight. With his dark hair and eyes, there had to be some Italian ancestry in his background and his Godfatherish New Jersey accent fit that image.
Greenback smiled. “Shelby’s a doll. She’s six months old and every time she sees me she smiles and laughs.”
How was it a hardened warrior could look so sappy? An answering smile curved Hawk’s lips.
Greenback ducked his head. “I know—I know.” He waved a hand dismissively.
“It’s great, man. Katie Beth, Zoe’s niece, took up with me while she was here. She’s a real sweetheart. I can see how you could learn to love one of your own real quick.”
“I was go
ing to re-up when my enlistment was over, but I’m giving serious thought to going back to school and finishing my degree so I can move on to something else. I mean, if something happened to me, Shelby would never know me.”
Hawk nodded. It happened sometimes. A guy got married, his wife had a baby, and suddenly he started worrying about the people he’d leave behind if something happened to him, and he lost his edge. Dwelling too much on home and family could be a distraction. One that could get him killed.
“You think that’s a mistake?” he asked.
Hawk shook his head. “No. I think you have to do what’s right for you and your family. It’s an easier decision when you have no ties and less—” he bit back the word baggage, “familial responsibilities.” And what did that slip say about him? He frowned.
He dragged his attention back to Greenback. “I’ve asked all the guys to write down anything unusual they noticed about Cutter before we went on the mission. Can you think of anything that happened or was said that struck you as out of the ordinary?”
Greenback remained silent for several minutes. “I mind my own business, Hawk. And I don’t repeat stuff that I hear.”
He knew something. Hawk’s heart drummed in his ears for a moment as his blood pressure shot up. He remained silent giving him time.
“Brett saved my bacon twice during the last few missions. I owe him.” Greenback shifted behind the wheel as though uncomfortable. “I know as a breed, we’re looked at as professionals, sure, but kind of wild-ass cowboys, too. You know Brett’s pretty squared away. I mean he likes to have fun, just like the rest of us, and he’s not above a prank or two, but he keeps his personal and professional life clean.” Greenback took his eyes off the road to glance at Hawk. “Whatever’s going on, I don’t see Brett being involved. I think he’s just collateral damage.”
Hawk nodded. “That said—”
“Derrick has had a couple of assault charges dropped in the last year. And Flash gambles quite a bit. I heard Brett trying to offer them both advice at different times just before the mission. Well, actually he was on Flash’s ass hot and heavy about something.”
“You don’t know what it was about?”
