by Low, Gennita
Something criminal? Something that would impact a SEAL’s career.
Drugs? No way. Treason? Not a chance.
How bad was Flash’s gambling problem, and how much did he owe? Hell, who did he owe?
Had Derrick been abusing his girlfriend all along? Had Brett known?
Girlfriend. Zoe’s expression of fear and shock as she’d stood in the emergency room waiting room had made him aware of how deep her feelings for him ran, and how vulnerable she was because of it. He’d never seen anyone so pale without them being down.
His idea of just keeping things superficial, just keeping them limited to the sex, had imploded the first time they’d made love. He just hadn’t realized how completely he had given of himself, and how vulnerable he was because of it, until he’d seen her there. He’d never meant their relationship to cause her pain. But he’d been helpless to shield her from it.
For the first time, the realization that he wanted something permanent with her, wasn’t just a thought that ricocheted through his mind to then be tucked away to look at later. The panicky tightness he’d experienced in his chest at Doc’s apartment returned with a vengeance.
He wasn’t just in love with her. He loved her. But if something happened to him, could she deal with it? From her reaction this afternoon, he didn’t think so. But short of giving up his career—what could he do about it?
He could end it, and save her from all the dread, worry, and grief. Just the thought hit him with a punch as painful as the simunitions round that had grazed his cheek that afternoon.
Could he really do it? Could he be as selfless as that? He was certain he had never felt like this about any other woman, knew it in his bones. But in order to keep her, he’d have to make a career change. Could he give up being a SEAL?
Everything in him rebelled against the thought.
The guys in his company had been his family for so long. The men standing next to him were the one constant, the one thing he could depend on.
Until now.
What if his career continued to stall because of this situation? What would he do then?
It wouldn’t. He’d see to it. Because without the team what would he have? And he’d been alone, except for them, since his mother had died. Five years now.
The guilt he kept carefully tucked away reared up, nearly choking him. He hadn’t been there for her, anymore than he could be for Zoe if they went wheels up.
A tap sounded on the bedroom door behind him. He grasped at his composure and said, “Come in.”
Zoe stood at the door, her hand on the jamb, and balanced on her good leg as she rested the foot of her damaged one atop the other. Her color had returned but she looked tired. Were they going to fight about what had happened? The phone rang down the hall and she sighed. “I’ll get that, it’s probably, Mom.”
Hawk drew a deep breath. He had a few moments reprieve, a few slim moments to think things through.
When Zoe returned, he tried to behave as though he was immersed in what was on the computer screen.
“Are you too busy to talk?” she asked.
“No, I’m not too busy.” He pushed the chair away from the computer, a sense of resignation weighting that feeling further.
Zoe leaned back against the edge of the desk. She reached for his hand. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” His fingers brushed the swollen area just beneath his eye. “Just a little sore. The drops they gave me have almost cleared my eyes.”
She slid off the desk edge and perched on his thigh to rest against him. She rubbed her soft cheek against his and brushed her lips along his jaw.
With just that small caress he wanted her so much it tangled his insides into knots. “About today—”
She pressed her fingers against his lips and drew back to look him in the face. “Not yet, Adam. I just want to be close to you for a few minutes first. I wish things could be simple for us.”
Hawk kissed her, smothering the rest of what she had to say. He just didn’t want to hear it. Not yet. Instead of talking about all the reasons they shouldn’t be together, he wanted to feel all the reasons why they should. His mouth clung to hers until he teased her tongue into play.
In the touch of her hands, the heated taste of her mouth, there was an eagerness in her response that bordered on desperation.
“Zoe.” He urged her to her feet. He drew her close and ran his fingertips up and down her back in gentle brushing caresses. “I never wanted to cause you pain,” he said softly.
He could feel the tension in her body as she struggled not to cry. She hid her face against his shoulder. “I know.”
“It’s always a possibility. We have to train hard. We sweat now so we don’t bleed later. I’ve sworn to protect my country with my life, if I have to, Zoe.”
“I know. But it wasn’t the enemy who shot you today.”
“It wasn’t a real bullet. It was a simunition round packed with a soap compound.”
“Does it matter that it wasn’t a real bullet? You were shot. Who shot you?”
“I can’t tell you that. It was a training accident and the only person I’m allowed to discuss it with is my commander.”
She drew back as though he’d slapped her. “What did you do, sign a nondisclosure contract the moment you donned your uniform this morning?”
Guilt gave him a hard pinch at her look of betrayal. “Something like that. It’s just the way it is.”
“Why is it you put the Navy ahead of everything and everyone? It isn’t your family.”
Veronica had said much the same thing. She’d screamed at him that when he’d joined the Navy he’d married an institution, instead of a living, breathing woman. But it had never let him down, not until now. He closed off the thought.
If Zoe was this upset over a bit of secrecy, how would she feel when they went wheels up to places unknown? When he couldn’t even contact her because they were under deep cover?
His throat worked as he swallowed. “I think we need to pull back.” His chest hurt as he drew a deep breath. “I’m not ready to make a choice between you and the Navy.”
“Is that how you see it, Hawk? That I’m asking you to give up your career for me?”
“It’s all I’ve had for a long time, Zoe. It’s all I’ve worked for, for years.”
Her hand slashed through the air in sudden anger. “Is this job going to grieve for you when you come home in a body bag? Is it going to support you if you come back with an arm or leg missing? Is it going to give you children, or a real family? Is it going to hold you and offer you comfort when you feel betrayed by your friends?”
So she had seen that, too. But he’d seen some things, too. What about her physical condition? What if she got sick and died on him while he was gone? Like his mother had. The guilt had hounded him for years. He couldn’t go through that again.
“I can’t ask you to stick it out. When we go wheels up and I’m shipped out for six months, a year, longer, you’ll be back here in the states and you’ll get tired of being alone, waiting on someone who might or might not return. You’ll get tired of wondering if I’m hurt or dead. You’ll resent my being gone just like you’re resenting my not telling you everything right now. And if you got sick or were hurt, I couldn’t be here for you and you’d resent that too.”
She brushed at a fresh wave of tears that streaked down her face. “Not if you love me.”
For a moment, some unseen force squeezed his heart in a tight fist. “I won’t say that, Zoe.”
She turned away, sparing him from seeing her reaction. But when she faced him again, anger etched a bitter light in her eyes. “What was the whole point then, Adam? Was it to show the poor little crippled girl that someone could fuck her despite the scars?”
He welcomed the anger. It helped him seal off the pain. He reached for her and gave her a shake before he could control the urge. “Stop it.”
“I would have never pegged you as an emo
tional coward. You’re ready and willing to lay your body, your life, on the line, but not your heart.”
The accusation stung more than he wanted to acknowledge. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Zoe.”
She threw out a hand in a beseeching gesture. “Then explain it to me.”
“I can’t let anything distract me from what I have to do. You don’t need the added grief of another person you care about being in harm’s way. It’s as simple as that. I’m trying to spare you that.”
She jerked free of his grasp. “You’re a little late, Adam. I already love you.”
His heart beat as though he’d run a fast sprint across a beach. He bit back the words, “I love you too.” If he said them, he’d make her happy—temporarily. But every time he had to leave, every time his job came between them—she’d end up miserable. As miserable as he’d be if something happened to her while he was gone.
“I’m sorry, Zoe.”
She shook her head, her expression blank, stunned, and staggered back toward the door.
Hawk took a protective step forward, his hand extended to steady her. She flinched away from his touch and limped out into the hallway. A few minutes later he heard the front door open and close.
He had done what he had to do. He’d done what was right for them both. Hadn’t he?
It hurt like hell.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‡
Zoe studied the exterior of the apartment building. The utilitarian architecture was blocky and unattractive, but it served Brett’s needs and suited his life style. She climbed the front steps and inserted a key into the locked front door, twisted it, then pulled it open. Her soft-soled shoes squeaked on the industrial gray tile as she limped to the elevator in the lobby. Stepping inside, she pushed the button for the third floor.
Her tear ravaged reflection stared back at her from the polished metal door. She bit her lip and looked away. It did no good to cry. What was done, was done. She refused to be one of those weak willed women with no pride, who begged for love.
She couldn’t return to Hawk’s house. If he didn’t love her, wouldn’t allow himself to love her, she couldn’t stay there anymore. At least she had some place to go.
She should have seen it coming, had seen it coming that day at the hospital, she just hadn’t wanted to face it.
The elevator door opened and she stepped out into the hall. The florescent lighting overhead appeared dim as she turned left and walked down to apartment three-fourteen. Her hand shook and she shoved the key in with more force than necessary. The door swung inward and the hall light fell in a large rectangle on the floor. It touched the shiny surface of a row of picture frames on a bookcase. The pulled drapes blocked the outside streetlight’s glow. The living room stretched like a black void before her. She ran her fingers along the wall just inside the door, searching for the light switch.
Fingers grasped her wrist and jerked. A high-pitched yelp tore from her as she stumbled forward. The door slammed shut cutting off the light. She breathed in the distinct smell of latex as a gloved palm cut off her scream. Fear rocketed through her. She kicked and squealed beneath the pressure as a muscular arm held her back against a tall male body.
She clawed at the hand covering her mouth. The words don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me jetted through her mind in a scream. Her feet struck a piece of furniture. She braced them and pushed. The man grunted as he staggered and hit the wall. His hand dislodged for a second.
Before she could draw breath to scream, he shoved her. Zoe hit the back of a waist high chair or couch, the momentum thrusting her over it in a flip. Her cheek skidded across the fabric of the cushions. She threw up an arm to protect her head as she rolled off into the floor. Her weak leg crashed into something wood. Pain shot through the limb, stealing her breath. White spots swam in her vision. The apartment door was jerked open. The florescent bulbs in the hall speared the room with light then the door slammed shut again.
Running feet pounded in the hall, then retreated into silence.
Nausea rolled over her with a force of a tsunami. A cold sweat misted her skin and she retched, one, two, three times. Nothing came up, her stomach too empty to produce anything but dry heaves. Her leg throbbed like an abscessed tooth making every movement agony. She curled into herself and shivered in reaction.
“Please God, don’t let it be broken,” she moaned as she pushed herself up to a sitting position and leaned back against the chair she had flipped over. She swallowed as a fresh wave of nausea made her stomach pitch.
The door shook as someone pounded on it from outside. “Hello—” A male voice came through the barrier. “Is everything all right in there?” The knob turned and the door swung open as though in slow motion. The hall lights illuminated a dark silhouette in the opening. A man.
Where was he when I needed him?
“Please call 911,” she said, her voice shaky and weak.
“Jesus Christ!” The light flashed on and she blinked at the familiar face. Bracing a hand on the back of the couch Bowie leaped over it and came to kneel beside her.
*
“God damn it!” Hawk flipped his cell phone shut and tossed it on the couch. Zoe’s refusal to answer hers was driving him crazy. It had been hours since she’d left. He needed to know she was all right. Needed in a stomach clenching, head pounding, throat aching bad way. A hollow feeling had settled in his chest that refused to let up. As he slumped on the couch and cradled his head in his hands, he had, for the first time in years, an urge to—no he wasn’t going there. Men didn’t go there.
His phone rang, and he snatched it. Disappointment punched through his system as he read the number on the screen. “Hello.”
“You need to get over here to Scripps Mercy,” Bowie said, his tone terse. “Zoe’s been checked out, and they’re trying to talk her into letting them admit her, but she’s determined to leave.”
Hawk leapt to his feet, every muscle tensing for action. “What’s happened? Is she hurt?”
A beat of silence followed and when Bowie spoke his tone was subdued. “Yeah, she’s hurt.”
“I’m on my way. Keep talking.” Hawk grabbed his keys from the dish in the hall, the phone pressed to his ear. He slammed the door behind him and stalked to the car. His heart beat in his ears so loud he had trouble hearing Bowie as he continued.
“Some asshole broke into Brett’s apartment. She walked in on him. He flipped her over a chair, and she hit her leg, the one that’s—you know. They’ve x-rayed it, and it’s not broken, but they still want her to stay overnight, just to be sure there’s no further damage.”
“Did she get a look at the guy?”
“No. He’d pulled all the drapes, and it was a total blackout in the apartment. The cops were there when she left in the ambulance.”
“Fuck!” Hawk backed out of the driveway. “Keep her there, I’m on my way.”
*
“You need to stay, Zoe,” Bowie said.
It was the tenth time he’d said it. Now that the pain in her leg had settled down to a dull throb, Zoe wasn’t buying it. She’d had enough of hospitals to last her a lifetime. “I hit my leg, and it’s not broken. I’ll do fine with the crutches. I’ll follow up with the doctor the ER guy recommended, and I’ll be fine.” Please God let the leg be fine.
She wiggled off the edge of the hospital bed and balanced on one foot while she looped her purse over her head to hang across her body to her hip. The strap hit the fabric burn on her cheek and she flinched. She touched it gingerly, checking the ointment the nurse had applied. “I need to get back and see what’s happening at Brett’s apartment.” She adjusted the crutches beneath her arms.
Bowie frowned. “We’re supposed to wait for you to ride down in a wheelchair.”
“I’m good to go, and I’m not waiting.”
Bowie threw up a hand in supplication. “I’m seeing a new side of you that reminds me of Cutter.”
“Is that so surpris
ing?”
He grinned. “No.” The smile faded quickly. “Aren’t you going to call Hawk, and let him know what’s happened?”
She concentrated on putting the paperwork and pain medication the nurse had given her into her purse. “That would be redundant, since you’ve already done it.”
He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Look, I don’t know what’s gone wrong between you, but he deserved to know you were here.”
Zoe drew a deep breath as all the things she could say whipped through her mind. What happened is he stomped all over my heart. He didn’t want my love. He’s gone from wanting to let my family know we’re a couple, to telling me it was all a mistake.
“It isn’t important to anyone but me, Bowie. I don’t intend to put you in the middle. What happened between Hawk and me stays between us.” It hurt to draw breath, but her voice sounded only a little—strangled. “Now, I’d appreciate a ride to the apartment, and if that’s inconvenient, I can call a cab.”
Bowie sighed. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve got it covered.”
In her peripheral vision, she saw his hand hovering just within reach of her arm the first few swings she took with the crutches. “I’ve had years of practice with these. The only thing I don’t like to do is go down stairs.”
“Good thing they only have elevators here,” Bowie said.
“Yeah.”
They stood in front of the elevator.
Bowie snagged her arm when the door opened. “Look, Hawk is on his way. Stay just long enough for him to see for himself you’re ambulatory.”
All the things Hawk had said to her, all the pain he’d dealt her because of it, rose up to give her heart a painful squeeze. Tears blurred her vision. She concentrated on the tile beneath her feet instead. “I can’t do that, Bowie. I’m not ready to see him again, yet. Please call him and tell him not to bother coming.”
She caught the edge of the elevator door with the end of her crutch before it closed. It slid back open. She propelled herself inside.
Bowie breathed an expletive and stepped inside. “If you want him called, you’re going to have to do it yourself.”
