What he really needed was to get Alex back in harness. His friend had gone through years of living hell until Beth Harrison, as she’d been until their marriage, had become more to him than a much-valued assistant. She’d done for Alex what he, Cam, hadn’t been able to, and that was to get the stubborn idiot to agree to therapy. It had been a tough road, but it had brought him out of the shadows that had claimed him and held him in thrall for so long.
A few hours and several phone calls later, Cam was satisfied that he had everything in place. Like any complex event, it could all go tits-up in a heartbeat, but all the elements that were under his control were just that—under control. His risk assessment was nothing if not thorough.
Shit, is that really the time? Cam stretched, easing the kinks out of his shoulders. He’d been at it for longer than he’d thought…it was too late to call Stacie now, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to just text her about his plans for the weekend. He’d make time to speak to her in the morning, ensure that she understood that while he’d love to see her in the evening, he had to conduct a final run-through with his people, ready for Thursday, and that he’d make it up to her in a couple of days’ time.
Oh yeah—the weekend. Now those were plans he was really looking forward to carrying out…
*
The crowd was making him nervous.
Cam had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. His eyes scanned the area immediately outside the front entrance to the convention centre. He saw the security cordon, representatives of the world’s media, hordes of sightseers in search of a glimpse of the great and the good, a group of protesters—all the usual elements for a gathering such as this, and nothing that should have been making him so leery.
So far, everything had gone reasonably smoothly and according to plan. Delegates were arriving in an efficiently progressing convoy; the people he had inside the building were in position and had nothing untoward to report. He had two more limos en route, one from the embassy and one from the airport, and no reason to suspect that they might not arrive as scheduled, yet that uneasy feeling persisted.
Still, he’d be glad when the job was done in its entirety and his charges were safely delivered to their post-conference destinations. One day of talking, nothing accomplished, millions spent—it seemed to be the way of the world these days, but it wasn’t in his job description to have an opinion on the matter.
More limos came and went, a luxurious conveyor belt delivering delegates to talk about putting the world to rights. Cam greeted the first of his clients to arrive and escorted them into the conference centre, where Dylan Baxter took over. Respectful and suavely charming, Dylan was their escort to the anteroom where refreshments were available before the conference proper started. Cam returned to his position outside, a disembodied voice in his earpiece informing him that the last vehicle was about ten minutes away.
A squeal of tortured rubber yanked his gaze to the approach to the convention centre and sent a burst of adrenaline through his veins—a white van had crashed through the security cordon and was careering towards the main entrance. Training and instinct drove him to start herding people away…and then his eyes locked onto the last face he expected to see here, a face that almost made his heart stop. For a half-second he froze, but then he started running towards her as if his life depended on it.
Her life depended on it.
The blast was deafening, the wave of blistering heat so powerful that Cam was flung across the forecourt of the conference centre. A hard, awkward landing drove the breath from his lungs. On his hands and knees, with his ears ringing and the smell of burning in his nostrils, he shook his head and then lurched drunkenly to his feet.
Confusion reigned all around him. Victims of the blast were everywhere, some staggering in slow motion, while others remained where they fell, bloody, broken and burned. The tinnitus muffled the cries, but as the sensation began to die down, the screaming became clearer. His senses returning to normality, Cam stumbled towards the supine form of the blonde woman he’d seen scant seconds ago, before all hell erupted around them.
He fell to the ground beside her, the trained medic suddenly at war with the distraught man in love faced with the sight of his woman unconscious and bleeding, just inches away from him.
Amid the roaring cacophony of wailing alarms, shouting voices and hysterical crying, with the blazing vehicle behind him, he didn’t even recognise the voice screaming for an ambulance as his own.
*
“Alex.”
He looked up to see his wife at the door of the office, her troubled face deathly white. “Beth? What is it? What’s wrong? Are you all right?” He shot to his feet and went straight to her.
“I’m fine. That was Cam on the phone. There’s been an explosion at the conference. He’s at St. Thomas’—he said he’s okay, just some cuts and bruises, but it’s Stacie.”
Alex frowned. “Stacie? What about her?”
“She was there. He said she just appeared, moments before the explosion.”
“What the hell was she doing there?”
Beth shook her head. “He doesn’t know. He hadn’t arranged to meet her there. As far as he was aware, she wouldn’t even have known he was going to be there—she just appeared in the crowd. He was running towards her, and then all hell broke loose. Alex, we’ve got to go to the hospital, be there for him.”
Her husband swore under his breath. “I’ll bring the car around. Call Cam and tell him we’re on our way, and get your coat.”
“It’s all right—I told him we’re leaving now.”
For a moment Alex had forgotten that his woman could read him like a book. Given the closeness the three of them shared, it was hardly surprising that she’d already given Cam that message.
Alex drove as fast as was legally possible, but once they got to London, the snarled-up traffic had him cursing under his breath. It was only the calming influence of Beth by his side, her hand resting on his thigh, that prevented him from slamming his hand down on the horn every thirty seconds. Thankfully the gods were on his side, letting him park reasonably close to the hospital, and then he and his wife headed for the Accident and Emergency Department. All they could do was hope that when they got there, Cam would be able to tell them that the news wasn’t as bad as they feared.
They found him in the waiting area for A&E, looking like a man who’d been through hell. His face was bruised and battered—minor injuries given the event that had taken him there—but his suit, the jacket draped over one arm, was beyond all redemption, with streaks of dirt and grease amid the assortment of rips and tears. What was most important, though, was the fact that he was there and not injured badly enough to be considered an urgent case for treatment.
“Cam!”
His heart aching with love for her, Alex watched his wife run to his friend’s side. Compassion was there in her eyes, and in the gentle touch with which she combed Cam’s hair away from his face. Alex, on the other hand, was a touch more pragmatic.
“Cam, you look like shit. What the hell happened?”
Cam glanced at his old friend as the other man took the empty seat beside him.
“Car bomb. Christ, she was only yards away when the bloody thing went off. We were there on diplomatic close protection. The guys are all okay, no injuries at all, but Stacie…” His voice tailed off. “I hadn’t told her where we’d be, but she must have pieced it together from things I’d said. She’s too bloody smart for her own good. I caught sight of her just as the van was approaching. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t get to her in time. She looked so beautiful…so happy. And then…the van blew up, she was unconscious on the ground and I was thinking the worst.”
Beth’s arms wrapped around him, giving him the hug he badly needed. “Thanks, angel.” He kissed her cheek.
“Have you seen a doctor yet?”
He shook his head in response to her question. “I’ve been talking to the police. Look, I’m
okay. My hearing’s coming back, and I’ve had worse than this,” he waved in the vague direction of his face, “beating the crap out of him,” he jerked his thumb in Alex’s direction, “on training exercises.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Where the hell’s that bloody doctor? I need to know what’s happening to Stacie.”
“Stay here.” Alex’s tone was all commanding officer. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Miss Matheson.” The doctor looked up from her notes and smiled. “How do you feel?”
Stacie shifted uncomfortably in the bed. “Apart from being stiff and sore and having the headache from hell, you mean? I feel okay.”
“Good. The cuts and bruises you sustained were only superficial, and will heal without leaving any scars, but more importantly, you’ll be glad to know that the results of the tests have come back, and you and your baby are both fine.”
The wind was rushing in her ears. No, she couldn’t possibly have heard…
“Excuse me, doctor, what did you say?”
The doctor, an older woman, looked at her with a sympathetic smile. “You didn’t know? I do apologise, Miss Matheson. We carried out a pregnancy test as a precaution, and indications are that you’re in the very early stages, maybe six weeks or so. Since you weren’t aware, I assume that you haven’t been to see your GP?” She nodded when Stacie confirmed that her assumption was correct. “Then I would recommend that you make an appointment as soon as possible. There’s nothing to worry about, but it’s important that you start your antenatal care at the earliest opportunity.
“Now, I’m going to get you admitted—I want to keep you in for a minimum of twenty-four hours, just to make sure that you don’t suffer any ill effects from the concussion. And don’t worry about your baby—I see no reason why you shouldn’t go to full term without any problems. We’ll get you up to an observation ward as soon as we can, and in the meantime, I’ll let the nurse know that your partner can come and see you.”
“Thank you, doctor. Er, you won’t say anything to him about the baby, will you? It’s just that…”
“I quite understand, Miss Matheson—it’s only natural that you’ll want to tell him the good news yourself.”
Good news? Would Cam see it that way? Reeling from the shock, Stacie’s mind was going around in circles, trying to piece everything together. It must have been just after she’d had the flu…after she’d spent three days throwing up. How could she have been so stupid? She’d never given a thought to additional precautions in the days after, when she and Cam…
A myriad what ifs tumbled around in her mind, each one demanding that she think through the consequences of possible decisions—keep the baby or not, tell Cam or not, stay with him or not…Stacie covered her face with her hands in an attempt to shut out the screaming whirlwind of thoughts going through her head.
The only thing she was certain of was that she couldn’t tell him—not yet. She needed time to deal with the idea of being pregnant before she could even think of how best to tell Cam, never mind actually telling him and coping with his reaction to the news.
“Stacie, honey?”
The mattress moved—she looked up to see Cam sitting there, worry written all over his face. From the look of him, he’d been patched up—since that was the case, they clearly didn’t see any need to admit him for further treatment. With that thought, she managed a relieved if somewhat wobbly smile. Suddenly very tired, she let her head fall back against the pillow.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Just a bit of a bump on the head—that’s why they’re keeping me in overnight.”
His expression darkened. “It was more than a bit of a bump on the head, beautiful—you were unconscious for a while. And would you like to tell me what was going through your mind when I came in?”
She couldn’t tell him—not yet. “Nothing. Just…whatever goes through a person’s mind when they get caught in something like that, it was so…How many casualties were there?”
“A few dozen, some of them serious, but no fatalities as yet…and stop trying to avoid the question. It wasn’t nothing, I could see it in your face, and you will tell me, Stacie. I’ll let this go for the time being, but we will be discussing it later. And talking of something like that,” he continued, referring to the explosion, “what the hell were you doing there?”
He wasn’t shouting, but Stacie knew that he was furious. And if he was furious with her just for being there, what would his reaction be to the news of the baby? “I…I wanted to surprise you,” she managed to stammer. “I took the day off work. I was going to wait until you’d finished, but I didn’t know when that would be. I knew it wouldn’t be the surprise I intended, but all I was going to do was ask you when you’d be done. Please don’t be mad at me.”
He’d be mad enough when she told him that her birth control had failed.
“Beautiful? I’m not mad at you—I’m mad at myself for giving you enough clues to work out where I was going to be. I should have known better, considering the way you connected the three of us with Beth’s book. I’m slipping in my old age.” He leaned forward to touch a gentle kiss to her lips. “But please…don’t do anything like this again. I aged ten years when I saw you out cold.”
She managed a half-smile. He may have said please, but she knew an order when she heard one. “I won’t.”
*
It was close to midnight. Having spent yet another day with the team investigating the explosion, Cam was back in his apartment, dog-tired and unable to sleep. With every breath, the band of iron around his heart tightened a little more. Recent events had been a harsh and long overdue wake-up call, exposing his time with Stacie as nothing more than a dream…reminding him of the festering reality that was his chosen way of life. Reminding him that that way of life had room for only one person—not two.
He refilled his whisky glass. It was tempting to get rip-roaring drunk, but that was no way to remove the weight that was currently resting on his shoulders.
What the hell had he done? Been foolish enough to believe that he could have it all, that was what. He was meant to be alone—he’d always been meant to be alone, his life couldn’t be any other way. His childhood had made him damaged goods and now he was in danger of inflicting a different kind of damage on the woman who was everything he wanted…the woman whom he could now never call his own.
She’d been hurt because of him. Stacie’s safety was the only thing that mattered to him now and the only way he could keep her safe was to remove himself from her life. He remembered only too well what had happened to Beth Lombard the previous year, all because Alex wouldn’t send her away from him. And that was a one-off situation linked to a specific incident in Alex’s past, whereas this…this was his way of life and all he knew. As long as his work put him in danger, then she would be at risk too.
And if he gave up his work, what then? His identity would be gone, the man he was would be gone, the man to whom Stacie was drawn would be…gone. She would be gone.
Christ, it was a mess…and he could see only one way out of it, a way that would give Stacie a chance to be safe—and happy with someone else who could give her a better life. One that included children.
Pain lanced through him, the physical manifestation of grief for what could now never be. He remembered the occasion all too well. They’d been walking in the park, a young family a short distance ahead of them. The mother had been pushing an empty buggy while the father was holding the hand of their son, toddling along on unsteady legs. Stacie hadn’t said anything, but he’d seen the look on her face, her expression one of unfulfilled love and wonder. In that moment he’d wanted to share a future like that with her.
He wasn’t right for her—he never had been and he’d been a fool ever to think otherwise. The dream was over…now he had to wake up to the truth and do the right thing for the only woman who had ever really mattered to him. It wouldn’t take long—a week would do it, and then he’d be ready to go.
*
In the end, it didn’t even take that long. Just a couple of days later, everything was arranged. Cam swallowed another mouthful of Scotch. It was his third glass, but he was still sober enough to feel the pain of what he was about to do.
Pushing aside thoughts of the phone call he was about to make, he forced himself to consider the one he’d made a few hours ago. He hadn’t wanted to go back to the Middle East again, not so soon, and most certainly not for a stay of six months, but it was the only way he could avoid going down on his knees and begging Stacie for forgiveness—and potentially putting her life in danger all over again.
In the days since he’d picked her up from the hospital, he’d focused on work and kept contact with her down to a minimum, figuring that distancing himself from her would be the best way to sow the seeds for their parting. It was working too—the last text she’d sent him, a couple of hours earlier, had very politely asked him to let her know when it would be convenient for her to call him, as she thought they needed to talk. The text also had a sense of apprehension about it that made him ache to take her in his arms and put everything right.
Of course, that entirely depended on whichever definition of right one wanted to use.
Instead, he resigned himself to a one-way journey to the hell of spending the rest of his life alone. He couldn’t be with Stacie because of the risks his work posed to her safety. Any other woman he got involved with beyond a superficial extent would be subject to the same risks…not that he would ever be interested in any other woman that way. If he couldn’t have Stacie, he didn’t want anyone.
This was not what he’d been expecting to be doing just a couple of days before Christmas. The call he was about to make was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, harder even than seeing his oldest friend more dead than alive. His bag was packed and by the door—the car would be picking him up to take him to the airport in about ten minutes. After take-off, he’d have seven or eight hours to finish what he’d started and get shit-faced drunk—then he couldn’t think about Stacie and remember what he was about to do to her.
Love Is Danger Page 21
