Blind Fury

by Gwen Hernandez

  She licked her lips as her stomach flip-flopped and her heart beat wildly. She shouldn’t want him. But those piercing blue eyes and that cocky grin did her in every time. She pressed herself against the wall, too aware of his body heat and clean, spicy scent. “Says who?” she asked with more bravado than she felt.

  “Your brother.”

  As if she hadn’t known. Though she was more than old enough to drink the beer in her hand, Rob still treated her like she was a naïve teenager. She took a quick swig from the brown bottle and suppressed a grimace at the bitter taste. “He’s not in charge of me,” she said, raising her chin in defiance. “I choose who I kiss.”

  Mick glanced at her mouth and heat flooded her limbs. Would it be so bad if she gave in? Just this once?

  Yes!

  Mick left behind a woman with a broken heart every time he left for Afghanistan. Her brother did too, for that matter, but apparently Rob wanted better for his little sister.

  So did she.

  Mick knew she was off limits, yet for some reason he loved to tease her. Maybe because he was certain she’d turn him down. Like a game.

  What would he do if she actually said yes? Probably freak out and run the other way. Game over.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as she scooted away from him, amusement sparkling in his knowing eyes.

  “Far away from you, Romeo.”

  But even Afghanistan hadn’t been far enough. He’d always been somewhere in the back of her mind.

  And now she was stuck with him 24/7. He was a good man, an honorable man, but he was still a risk-addict and womanizer.

  He was still not the man for her.

  The object of her analysis emerged from his room a few minutes later and she pushed aside the dangerous memories.

  They spent the rest of the morning running errands. She met with the insurance adjuster, who promised her the funds to rebuild the townhome and repair the neighbors’ siding. Her policy also included money for a rental until she could move back home. Or sell. The thought of living there had lost its appeal. Maybe starting over would be a better idea.

  Either way, she needed the money. Her mortgage was taxing enough, but paying for two places could put her in dire straits. Rob’s savings would cure her financial problems, but probate of his will could take months. She needed to be conservative with the limited funds that were available to her right now.

  Insurance sorted, she turned to other issues. Taking a circuitous route to ensure they weren’t being followed, they opened a safety deposit box to store a flash drive backup of the pictures until she figured out what to do. The original media card was in her purse, and they had stashed several printouts in Mick’s condo. The more copies the better, as far as she was concerned. They couldn’t risk losing their only evidence.

  In the afternoon she buckled down and spent time on her project for QDS. She broached the idea of going back to work, but Mick told her to wait.

  “Why don’t you give it a few more days? You can get some work done from here, can’t you?”

  Carl would never let her hear the end of it, but she caved.

  Tara called during dinner, but Jenna had put her phone on silent. She didn’t want to talk to her friend while Mick was around, particularly if she had any updates from Colin, but he had been sticking to her like a leech. She finally got a break later in the evening. He was on the phone, trying to track down someone named Smitty. She didn’t ask why; he didn’t say. Fine by her, since she had her own secrets. While he was preoccupied, she called Tara back.

  “Sorry I missed you earlier,” Jenna said.

  “No problem. I don’t have any real news for you anyway.”

  Jenna had known it was a long shot, but she still deflated a little. “That’s okay,” she said, trying to make sure her end of the conversation was as bland as tofu in case Mick was paying attention.

  “I really tried,” Tara said. “In fact, I was downright persuasive.” The smile in her voice was a clue that Jenna didn’t want to know more about her methods. “He was there when it happened, but he said he can’t talk about it. Apparently, the whole incident is under investigation by the State Department for some reason.” She paused. “Is that normal?”

  “I think so, considering the outcome,” Jenna said. “Standard procedure.” Or not. She had no idea, but she didn’t want Tara to start thinking about it too hard. No need for her to become any more involved.

  “You’re being rather careful with your words. I assume Mick is nearby.”

  “Yep. And how are you and Colin getting along?” she asked.

  “Got it. And so far so good. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but I really like this one, Jenna. He looks like a big grizzly, but he’s more like a teddy bear. You know, without the fat for winter.” She laughed.

  Jeez. “Good luck, and thanks for trying. I should probably get back to work. Carl is breathing down my neck to get him this project by Wednesday.”

  “He’s such an asshole. That man has no heart,” Tara said, always her staunch supporter. “What are you going to do about getting your answers?” she asked.

  Good question. “I have no idea.” Jenna glanced at Mick. As if he’d felt her gaze on his back, he turned and caught her eye. Heat flooded her face and she ducked her head. Smooth.

  On the other end of the line, Tara hesitated and took a deep breath. “Have you thought of seducing it out of him?”

  Jenna must have reddened even more, because Mick raised an eyebrow at her.

  She coughed. “Um, no. Not even once.”

  Thankfully, he became engrossed in his conversation again and turned away.

  “Well, it kind of worked with Colin. And I probably could have tried harder, but I didn’t want to risk pushing things too far. But what do you have to lose?”

  Besides her pride? And her heart? “Well, gee, thanks.”

  “Do you have a better idea? Besides, I know you’ve lusted after him for years, even if you’re careful not to say anything about it. That totally gives you away, you know. You might as well enjoy yourself whether or not it gets you any information.”

  Her? Seduce Mick? Ridiculous. Tara knew how awkward and hopeless Jenna was with men. Other women did this kind of thing. Women like Tara. But even if she had the nerve to do it, Mick wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t going to blurt out the truth over a blow job.

  Holy crap. Her cheeks flamed. “I really need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

  “Yeah. Good luck, Jenna. Personally I hope you go for it.”

  Jenna laughed nervously and said goodbye. Tables and queries and charts were what she needed to focus on now. The deadline loomed.

  But damn Tara and her nympho brain. All Jenna could think about now was how magnificent Mick would look towering over her in all his naked glory.

  Watching Jenna from the corner of his eye, Mick had one ear on his phone conversation with his buddy Kurt, owner of Steele Security, and the other on her conversation with Tara. It sounded normal enough, but damn if she wasn’t blushing repeatedly. What the hell did those girls talk about anyway?

  Maybe Tara was dishing on her sexual escapades with that asshole Colin. The guy got off on carrying big guns and was a little too trigger happy for Mick’s taste. And since Mick wasn’t sure what role Colin had played in the attack that ended in Rob’s death, or whether he was involved in the smuggling, he might be a threat to Jenna.

  “Mick?” Kurt said, breaking into his thoughts. “I’ll get a guy on him and get back to you tomorrow, okay?”

  “I appreciate it.” Mick turned his back on Jenna. “Any other news?” Kurt had been discreetly looking into the destruction of Jenna’s townhome.

  “Nothing but the official line. The police don’t believe in coincidences any more than I do, but whoever set it up did a good job. Any evidence of a crime was destroyed.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah.” Kurt cleared his throat. “Hey, listen. If you’re ready to stay in t
he States, you know you’re welcome to join my team. I can always use guys with your skills for executive protection.”

  “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” But right now, Mick was focused on finding Smitty. Alan Smith. The only man in the world he’d ever wanted to kill. He’d thought that after he calmed down and got away from the heat and the dust of the desert, he’d be able to let it go.

  Instead, the need to smear Smitty over the pavement was overwhelming. And if he were honest, it was unsettling. He had never taken a life in cold blood. Never even considered it. Now, he was almost mad with the idea, even as his rational mind dismissed it as a horrible fantasy.

  Maybe he would have been able to let it go with time, but then Jenna had gotten him thinking about the specifics of Rob’s death. At the very least, Smitty needed to answer some questions.

  Mick’s first instinct had been to take Rob’s memory card to the State Department. Maybe they would reopen the investigation now that the men were back home.

  But he was torn. If the Feds started looking into the attack, the media would get hold of it. For the same reason, he’d been relieved when Jenna decided not to go to the police right away. He didn’t trust either law enforcement agency to be beyond Claymore’s reach, and if the media got wind of the story, whoever was behind the explosion in Jenna’s house would know they had something concrete.

  Hell, even if they sat on the evidence forever, they were still being followed. He hadn’t wanted to scare Jenna—and he’d managed to lose their tail on the way to the bank—but the danger was far from over.

  At this point, he only cared about two things: his promise to Rob and Jenna’s safety. And, coward that he was, he cared about what she thought of him too.

  If Mick could get some answers from Smitty, maybe he could find out the truth and remove the threat to Jenna. And then he could drown his visions of that horrible day in a pint of Guinness until her accusing eyes no longer sliced his heart in two.

  That night Jenna curled up in Mick’s bed, enveloped in the subtle scent of him that lingered on the pillow. How many women had been here before her, waiting with excitement for him to slip between the sheets and between their thighs? Jealousy knifed through her. She didn’t want to know. Couldn’t understand why she was so obsessed by it.

  Tara had planted this horrible seed in her mind: the idea that she might get the two things she wanted most in one stroke. Except that her desire was the foolish lust of a schoolgirl. She could not find lasting love with a man like Mick. She wanted more than a few nights of animal sex followed by a sayonara.

  Although, admittedly, her body was fully on board for the animal sex.

  Anyway, Mick didn’t seem like he wanted her to seduce him. He’d shown remarkable restraint over the last few days, which led her to believe that all of his flirting and teasing over the years had been nothing but a game. Tara was wrong in assuming that he was Jenna’s for the taking.

  There had to be another way to get the information she wanted, but as long as Mick was on her like duct tape, her ability to investigate was limited.

  Too worked up to sleep, she flipped on the lamp and snagged a small notepad and pen from her purse. A list would calm her. She used them to get the ideas and questions out of her brain in an organized fashion. It made the impossible seem possible. Today, all of her attention was focused on how she could uncover the truth about Rob’s death.

  She had eaten, slept, and breathed that question until it was part of who she was. It had left her with an empty space inside that wouldn’t go away until she knew the truth. Perhaps that was her flaw. She couldn’t let things go. As a child, she’d nagged her mother for the truth about Santa Claus, even though she feared the answer. After her mom finally admitted that she and Jenna’s dad were the ones responsible for all those presents under the tree, Jenna had cried for hours.

  Her mom had warned her not to seek answers she couldn’t handle, but that was one lesson she’d never learned. The need to know was part of her.

  And deep down, she believed that the truth would make everything okay again. Whoever was after her would be foiled. Mick would move on. Life would go back to normal. Worse, because now she was more alone than ever, but normal. Predictable. Safe.

  The blank page mocked her. After all, what were her options? Claymore wasn’t talking. Mick wasn’t talking. The State Department wouldn’t tell her anything. The other men who were involved had no reason to tell her anything, nor could they be trusted. She wasn’t an investigator. She didn’t have a clue where to start, and she didn’t have the money to hire someone who would.

  Her only leverage was Rob’s pictures, but she still felt she couldn’t share them with the FBI or the police. If she did, the evidence might be buried. The government’s track record so far was less than stellar. The only time they took the actions of contractors seriously was when the media got involved.

  The media! Head-smack moment. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

  A reporter had called her before Rob’s funeral to get the details straight. If she could just think of his name… She snapped her fingers trying to remember. Something Longstreet. James. That was it.

  After scrawling it on the paper, she turned off the lamp and lay back on the sheets.

  First thing in the morning she was going to email that reporter.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, JENNA stared at the email reply from James Longstreet. She had emailed him as soon as she woke up, asking if he had any additional information about her brother’s death. He wrote in short bursts of thought separated by ellipses. She found herself mentally inserting “STOP” after each burst, like it was a telegraph transmission.

  Rumors of another Nisour Square…no confirmation…State Dept & DOJ not talking…what do you know?

  Nothing. She knew nothing. Her chest deflated like a popped balloon. And apparently he didn’t know any more than she did.

  Mick sat on the couch with his back turned, doing his own secret work on his computer. God, what a pair they were. Allies and enemies, all mixed up. The whole situation was exhausting. Even little things were starting to grate on her.

  Like having to wear a bra until bedtime.

  If he would just tell her what he knew, she wouldn’t be sneaking around. She didn’t want the media circus that might be sparked by her efforts, but Mick had left her no choice.

  The other problem was that she couldn’t focus on work. Fear, lies, and lust had twisted her shoulder muscles into knots, only adding to her stress about her deadline, being followed, and, oh yeah, her house blowing up.

  Her eyes flicked across the email again. Rumors of another Nisour Square. She didn’t recognize that reference, so she Googled it. Four Blackwater contractors had been charged with firing into a crowd of Iraqi civilians, killing seventeen.

  Could Mick and Rob have been involved in something like that? Dread slid down her throat, bitter and slimy. No. They were honorable men. Mistakes happened in the heat of battle, but neither of them would hurt innocent people on purpose. And the skirmish had been small, involving only a few Afghan militants. At least according to the official version.

  She reread Longstreet’s email, her fingers lightly stroking the keys. Should she respond?

  “What are you doing?” Mick asked from just behind her.

  She jumped and switched the screen to the desktop before turning to glare at him. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” Her heart raced beneath her palm.

  He reached over and brought her email back up before she could stop him. “Damn it. Why are you talking to that scum? Do you have any idea what you could unleash if you get that guy sniffing around?”

  Anger flooded her limbs with righteous energy. “How could I? You won’t tell me anything.”

  His face turned crimson, his hands closing into fists at his sides. “What did you say to him?”

  She’d never been afraid of Mick before, but when he reached for her, she ducked her head and hunched ov
er to protect herself. It was pure instinct.

  “Christ, Jay.” He backed away, his eyes full of anger and pain. “You really think I would hurt you?”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore,” she said softly, blinking back the damn tears that were always at the ready lately.

  He stared at her, breathing like he’d just finished a race. “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, but I would never…” He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes, lifting his head to the ceiling. “I wish you could just trust me that you should leave this alone.”

  “Don’t you realize that every time you say something like that it only makes me want to know more? That’s like telling Pandora not to open the box.”

  “But if I told you the box could explode if you opened it, would it make a difference?” He rubbed his face and leaned against the couch. “I’m not trying to patronize you. I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Well, by forcing me to look elsewhere for information, you’re getting exactly what you’re trying to avoid.” Her argument was perfectly logical. There was no defense against it.

  “I don’t know how to make it more plain,” he said, fatigue threading through his voice. “If you pursue this, you’ll not only put both of us in danger, but that reporter too.”

  “Then just tell me the truth and I’ll stop.” It really was that simple. Why was he being so stubborn? It was too late for her to go back to believing the official account.

  “No.”

  “Why not, Mick? I don’t understand.”

  He sprang up from the back of the couch. “Because I don’t want you to know what happened. Is that clear enough?” He dropped his voice and held her gaze, speaking slowly and deliberately. “I don’t want you to know.”

  Mick watched Jenna back away. The hurt and confusion on her face cut through him like a hot blade. The worst part was that she’d read him correctly. He had wanted to hit something. Not her, but something.

  “Mick?” she asked in a near whisper.