Breaking Free

  ****

  Hawk shook his head. How could she be so completely oblivious to her own beauty? He’d been distracted by Zoe sitting out on the back stoop looking into the sun as it disappeared over the horizon. Bathed in pale peach light, her skin had taken on such an iridescent softness he’d had to fight hard not to reach for her. Just thinking about it brought a heavy feeling to his groin.

  “It wasn’t Mandy,” he said. He couldn’t say more. They were going to be alone together for two or three weeks, if not longer. He had to be careful.

  He frowned. Zoe attributed his distraction to someone else too easily. She didn’t see herself as a desirable woman because of her leg. Even though the single men in the team continued to flirt with her, it never occurred to her they could be serious. Her attitude made things easier for him from the standpoint that if she didn’t take any of them seriously, she wouldn’t get involved with one of them. And if she didn’t get involved, it wouldn’t kill him to see her with someone else. God, he had it bad.

  Why couldn’t he learn? He couldn’t give her what she needed any more than he could Veronica. Not until he left the team. He didn’t need to get involved with a woman who already fought against being drawn back into the “the life”. It would be a recipe for disaster for them both.

  Zoe bent to get the salad fixings from the vegetable bin at the bottom of the refrigerator. He studied her rounded derriere and his palm tingled with the urge to run his hand over the shapely curve. Her mother had just walked out the door. He had promised to look out for her. If he moved in on her now, it would be a betrayal of her trust. He had told the men that getting involved with Zoe was not a good idea and here he was aching to do just that.

  They needed to get out of the house.

  “We could go out, if you don’t feel like cooking,” he suggested.

  Zoe straightened the vegetable bags clenched in her hands. She looked over her shoulder at him. “I don’t mind fixing a salad and nuking some potatoes. But if you’d rather--”

  “What about pizza or Chinese?” he suggested.

  She bit her lip, “I don’t want to leave in case Turner calls.”

  “I have my cell and can have the call forwarded, but on second thought--” He retrieved a pad and pencil from the counter close to the phone. “Tell me what you want and I’ll order. You can go lie down until it gets here.”

  She shrugged. “Curry Beef, fried rice, and an egg roll,” she said as she put the vegetables back in the refrigerator.

  Surprised, he said, “I didn’t know you liked spicy stuff.”

  “I love hot food, particularly curry.”

  “Next time I barbecue I’ll fix my hot sauce to put on the meat.”

  “Hot sauce on a charcoal briquette does not sound appetizing.” She flashed a smile, but worry dulled the affect.

  He frowned at her in mock anger and tried to hide the concern that tightened the muscles of his shoulders and neck. If something horrible happened to her sister and the baby, how would Zoe handle it? How would he handle her? His stomach churned. He didn’t want just to be a shoulder to lean or cry on. Another brother. Hell no!

  But he couldn’t be anything else either. It was too opportunistic. Once they knew Sharon and the baby were all right--There couldn’t be a once. He couldn’t get involved with Zoe. She didn’t want it, he didn’t want it. Damn this was hard.

  He forced a bantering tone as he said, “You have to give me one more shot at the barbeque to redeem myself. Flamethrower chicken, tomorrow night, hot off the grill at six o’clock.”

  “All right.”

  He flipped open his cell phone and ordered the food. After ending the call he said, “It’ll be about thirty minutes. You can lie down for a while if you’d like.”

  “I’ll make some iced tea to drink with dinner first.”

  He wandered into the living room and turned on the television. Kicking off his shoes, he propped his feet on the coffee table and slouched down into the cushions. He tried to watch baseball, but the game became background noise as he tracked Zoe’s location in the house as she walked from kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen again, and then traveled the distance of the hall, her uneven gate a distinctive cadence.

  She entered the living room carrying two glasses of iced tea. She handed one to him and took a seat at the other end of the couch. She had changed into low-slung sweat pants and the old

  T-shirt he was beginning to love because it left a narrow band of skin visible at the bottom of the shirt and one shoulder bare.

  “You can stretch out, there’s plenty of room,” he said.

  “I’m all right.” She found a coaster for her drink and curled her legs up on the cushion beside her, then folded her arms against her waist again. “This waiting is hard.”

  His attention swung to her face taking in the tension in her expression. “Yes, it is. Your brother-in-law will call in a few minutes.”

  “I hope so.”

  “We have to do a lot of waiting in the SEALS. Wait until we get to the location. Wait until we’re in position. Sometimes we have to wait hours, or even days, depending on the mission. The rescues are better. With those you’re trained to make sure everything goes like clockwork and you don’t lose anyone.” Or at least as few as possible.

  “You rescued Brett,” she said, her voice soft.

  His attention swung from the television to her face. As long as the mission was between them there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d lower those barriers and let him in. Maybe that was a good thing. Or was it? “Who told you that?”

  “Doc said something in passing this afternoon at the hospital.”

  He couldn’t tell her specifics about the mission but--“Brett didn’t show up where he was supposed to be. It still isn’t clear to me, or anyone else, why. I got to him just before detonation. He was already down when I found him.”

  “And now someone’s slapping him while he’s in a coma, just to make sure he isn’t waking up.”

  “Yeah.”

  She blinked several times fighting back tears. He drew a breath of relief when she retained her composure.

  “I think there was someone in the apartment today after mom and I left.”

  Hawk sat up, his body tense. Jesus Christ!

  “Mom forgot something in the bedroom, so I left her downstairs in the lobby and went back up to get it. I can’t prove it, but I just got the feeling--it was weird. The drawer in the bedroom was hanging open and I’d just closed it.” She shook her head, confusion and fear working its way across her features. “I got the knife and other things and got out of there.”

  “Jesus, Zoe.” His heart wedged it’s way between his ribs, its beat so harsh.

  “The security guard went back upstairs with me and checked it out, but there wasn’t anyone there. But there was a smell, like shaving cream or something--I couldn’t really place it.”

  She raked her fingers through her hair. “It sounds crazy when I say it out loud. I just sensed there was someone there. It scared the daylights out of me.”

  “God, Zoe. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “You were at your meeting with your commander, and there wasn’t anything you could do.” She drew a deep breath. “It may have just been my imagination.” She dragged her hair over one shoulder. “In any case, we’re having the locks changed. And the security guard offered to check the apartment a couple times a day until Brett gets home.”

  Hawk laid a hand over hers. “If anything at all like this happens again, no matter what the hell’s going on, call me.”

  Her smile was half hearted though her hand covered his. “I don’t want to think it but it feels as though someone on your team may have it in for my brother.”

  “Yeah, I know.” What the fuck was going on? Anger and betrayal clenched inside him and his stomach rolled.

  She uncurled her legs and turned toward him. “What do we do about it?”

  Her instant drive to be proactive, to solve the problem had anxi
ety spiking.

  “How can you be sure it wasn’t me, Zoe?”

  Her gaze remained steady on his face. “It wasn’t you. You wouldn’t have risked your life to save him otherwise.”

  Relief raced through him and some of the tension eased from his shoulders and back. “The nurses are on red alert now. Whoever it is will wait until things calm down before they try anything else.”

  She nodded. “You saw the tapes today from the hall cameras.”

  “Yeah. I viewed it along with half a dozen MPs and their commander. A guy dressed in scrubs came up the stairwell, entered the hallway, and went directly into Brett’s room. No one else was in the hallway at the time. He stayed five minutes then left by the same route. The scrubs were large and baggy, and we couldn’t get a read on his build. The cap he wore covered his hair. He didn’t wear a mask, but he knew where the cameras were and how to keep his face averted from them. He even had rubber gloves covering his hands so you couldn’t tell about his skin color. They’re making me a copy to give to Lang. Next to Flash he’s our best computer expert. We’ll see if he can freeze-frame it and enhance some of the images to try and get a better look at the guy. But it could take some time.”

  “In the meantime, what do we do?” she asked.

  “Exactly what we are doing. Keep the staff on high alert and make sure none of the guys on the mission at the time of Cutter’s injury are alone with him. I requested a guard put on Cutter’s room, but it’s doubtful it will go through since it was just a slap and not an open attempt on his life. And we don’t have any proof there was an attempt during the mission.”

  “Which ones?”

  He hesitated. She had to know otherwise she’d be paranoid about all the guys. “Greenback was guarding our backdoor. I think he had his hands too full to have been involved.”

  “I haven’t met him yet.”

  “No, his wife just had a baby before we went wheels up and he requested some time. That leaves Flash, Strong Man, Bowie, and Doc.”

  She closed her eyes and he could almost see her taking in the fact that someone she had broken bread with, flirted with, laughed with, might have tried to kill her brother. Her throat worked as she swallowed. When she opened her eyes she looked directly at him. “This must be very hard for you.”

  He gave a wry grimace. “You could say that. My life has been in all these guys’ hands more than once, Zoe. The thought that any one of them could betray a fellow team member is just un-fucking-believable.” The betrayal of it rolled around inside him making him sick. He shook his head, clenching and unclenching his hands as he fought the urge to hit something.

  She shifted closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Hawk.”

  He covered her hand with his, holding it against his skin, and absorbing the warmth of her touch. The need to drag her closer, to bury his face in the softly scented bend of her throat and take comfort from her was nearly overwhelming. Only family could give that special kind of comfort. It had been a long time since he’d had any family. The realization he was looking to Zoe for that, hit him with the punch of an AK-47.

  He was getting in too deep, already. That nagging need to be close, to be connected to her, left him vulnerable. And what if he reached out to her? He couldn’t give her the security she deserved. Where would that leave him?

  He dragged his attention back to the discussion at hand. “There’s something else. There could be more than one of them involved. The guys in my team are--tight. Or at least I thought we were. We look out for one another. Doc and Bowie are especially close. If one thought the other was being threatened, he’d cover for him. I thought Cutter and Strong Man were close too.” He raked his fingers through his close -cropped hair, pressing his palms against his scalp to hold back the anger. “God, I used to think we really knew each other, but after today, I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “You can live with someone and not really know them, Hawk. No one shares everything about themselves with anyone, even their family. It could be one of them working alone and the other knows nothing about it. First, I think we have to look closely at Brett’s relationship with them all. Do you know if he owed anyone money?”

  “No. But that’s not something he would talk about, is it?”

  “Did he like to play poker, make bets, that kind of thing? I’ve never known him to be that interested in that sort of thing, but with him way out here, and us on the other coast I thought he might have changed.”

  “The guys all make little side bets about who’ll be the first to complete an underwater demolition or reach the ground after we rappel out of a helo.”

  “Jesus.” She shook her head. “I’m talking football games and you’re talking war games.”

  “It’s a way of shaking off tension before we do something dangerous. You can’t just go into something like that cold without your mind and body gearing up for it.” He suddenly wondered if he were telling her too much about what they did. He didn’t want to scare her off and make her any more gun shy than she already was.

  “Don’t, Hawk.”

  “Don’t?”

  “I can tell from your expression you’re getting ready to shut down on me.” She touched his arm again. “I’m not some tender Tillie who can’t handle the truth.”

  A soft huff of laughter escaped him. She read him better than he did her. She was more complex than the other women in whom he’d been interested. Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to understand the others like he did her. The back and forth transition from tough one minute to soft and vulnerable the next was a little hard to figure when it changed so quickly from moment to moment.

  The phone rang at the same time a knock sounded at the door. For a moment Zoe froze, a look of anxious dread flitting across her face before she reached for the phone. Hawk rose to answer the door but focused on her features hoping to read something from her expression. He grabbed the takeout food from the delivery boy and shoved some money at him with an abruptness just short of rude.

  “Need any change, man?” the kid asked.

  “No.”

  Zoe sank back down on the couch, the receiver pressed to her ear. Her features appeared taut, and her fingers gripped the phone so tightly each joint stood out.

  He swore beneath his breath unable to tell anything from her body language. He set the bag of food down on the coffee table. Every muscle grew tight as he waited for her to hang up. “Yes” and “no” and “Mom is on her way”, didn’t give him much to go on, but the fact that she remained calm eased some of his anxiety.

  “The baby is all right,” she said as soon as she hung up. “She was in distress and they had to get her out pretty quickly, but the pediatrician said she’s doing fine now.” She swallowed and her composure wobbled, but she held on. “They had to do an emergency hysterectomy on Sharon. They couldn’t get the bleeding stopped. She’s had to have transfusions.” She rubbed her arms as though cold. “They nearly lost her.”

  He had to hold her. All the reasons why he shouldn’t didn’t matter in that moment.

  He sat down next to her and put his arms around her. The way her head found the perfect spot between his chest and shoulder to rest in, the way her breasts pushed against his ribs had a rightness to it. There was no reserve in the way she wrapped her arms around him and held on. It seemed he’d waited months, not weeks, for a reason to hold her.

  If only she were allowing him to do so under different circumstances.

  She shook with reaction but she didn’t cry. Driven to offer her comfort he said, “They didn’t lose her or the baby. No matter what other sacrifices had to be made, Zoe, that’s the important thing.”

  She nodded. “I have to call Mom.”

  Without releasing her, he stretched back to tug the cell phone from his belt and flipped it open. He scrolled down to Clara’s number and pressed it, then waited for her to pick up. When she didn’t answer, he said, “She must be on the flight already. The tower may allow the pilot to get a mes
sage to her though. I’ll get the phone book and call the airport.”

  She drew back releasing him, but her hand rested on his chest for a moment, and she looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Hawk.”

  Confused, he asked, “For what?”

  “It’s been one family drama after another ever since we moved in here. It’s not normally like this with us. If it gets to be too much for you--”

  “Not a chance,” he cut her off. “I’m sticking around for when something good happens to balance things out. Hey, it already has--you’re an aunt again.”

  “Yes, I am.” She offered him an unsteady smile and her shoulders fell in a release of tension.

  “Congratulations, Aunt Zoe.” He brushed her lips with a kiss he told himself was a friendly gesture, but his lips clung to hers. The soft, lush texture of her mouth begged to be explored. He wanted to taste her, test her response. He forced himself to pull back before teeth and tongue came into play.

  Her eyes looked huge, and a pale vibrant blue. He read surprise in her expression and something else that grabbed him right below the belt.

  “I’ll get the phone book.” He grasped the bag of food and carried it into the kitchen. He had to get away from her before he did something stupid. Like kiss her again.

 

  CHAPTER 8