“Did you believe him?”
Natalie closed her eyes. “I didn’t know what to believe.”
Forgive me, Zach. Please forgive me.
“I BEAT HIM with the steel handcuff, then kicked him a bunch in the stomach, then hit him on the head twice with a brick as hard as I could. I . . . I’d watched him kill Mexican journalists. I thought he’d killed my friend Joaquin.”
Joaquin watched through a one-way mirror as Agent Chiago went through the details of Natalie’s escape from the Zetas for a third time. He was sickened by the terrible things she’d had to endure—and stunned to think that she’d shot one man and beaten the shit out of another.
“She’s is a lot tougher than she looks, isn’t she? She had your back, buddy.” Marc clapped Joaquin on the shoulder. “God, I wish I’d been there.”
“Yeah, me, too. I wish Chiago would give her a break, though. He’s questioning her like he thinks she’s a criminal or something.”
“No, he isn’t. If you want to see what that looks like, go down the hall and listen to the conversation they’re having with McBride.”
Gabe stood, stretched, a cup of coffee in his hands. “What do you two think? You think McBride’s dirty?”
Joaquin shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“I think he’s telling the truth.” Marc leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, a thoughtful frown on his face. He’d once worked as a DEA agent, so he knew more about cartel stuff than anyone Joaquin knew. “If McBride had been part of some kind of drug ring made up of dirty agents, he wouldn’t have busted his ass getting her safely home. She’d already seen and heard too much. He’d have used her to escape—then he’d have put a bullet in her brain and let the Zetas take the blame. Everyone knew they’d kidnapped her. He could have killed her with no risk to himself.”
Gabe walked up to the glass, his gaze on Natalie. “I hope he’s the man he seems to be, because I think Natalie has feelings for him.”
“You think? Shit, Rossiter, you’re a damned psychic.”
“Not just feelings.” Joaquin had seen it in her eyes. “She might not realize it yet, but she’s in love with him.”
IT WAS MIDNIGHT before Agent Zepeda finished debriefing him.
That wasn’t a debriefing, McBride, it was an interrogation.
Hungry and needing a shower, Zach walked down the dark, silent street to the hotel, thinking through what they’d asked him—and what he’d learned.
He’d known he’d be investigated, and he understood why. He’d been working a black bag op that had gone wrong, and they would want to understand why it had gone wrong. More than that, they would want to know exactly how he’d been captured, what had happened when he’d been imprisoned, and how he’d managed to escape and make it back alive. They had to know for certain that he wasn’t compromised. Other people’s lives depended on it.
It would help to have Natalie to back up the part of the story that concerned her. She’d witnessed the torture, seen him in chains, seen how badly hurt he’d been. She’d been with him during his escape. Hell, she was the reason he’d escaped. Her deposition would lend credibility to his. Not that he expected trouble. This was standard operating procedure. He was doing everything he was supposed to do under these circumstances, and so were they.
He had reported in to D.C. the moment they’d arrived in Sells. Pearce had been surprised to hear from him and had immediately arranged for a helo to pick him up in Sells and fly him to Tucson in the morning. From there, Zach would fly to D.C., and then the real fun would begin.
Zepeda had already sent his own report, together with both Zach’s and Natalie’s depositions and video files of their debriefings, to the Operations Directorate at the Justice Department. By the time Zach got to Washington tomorrow, Pearce and the brass in the OD would have lots of questions for him.
He walked into the hotel’s lobby, where he saw Natalie’s friends—Marc, Gabe, and Joaquin. Were they waiting for him?
Three sets of eyes turned his way, and the men stood.
Yeah, they were waiting for him.
Zach had heard about Joaquin from Natalie, but she hadn’t mentioned the other two. So he’d taken a few minutes to dig up a little intel. Hunter was an undisputed badass—a decorated Special Forces sniper, former DEA agent, ex-con. He now worked as a SWAT sniper for the Denver PD. Rossiter was a former park ranger and paramedic who’d made a name for himself in the world of extreme sports. Both were married—a fact that had made Zach more willing to tolerate their territorial attitude where Natalie was concerned.
You should be glad they’re so protective of her.
Yes, he supposed he should be. But why did they seem to think they had to protect her from him? Hadn’t he just saved her life?
“McBride.” Hunter reached out his hand. “I just wanted to thank you for all you did to help Natalie. When we heard the Zetas had her, we thought we’d never see her again.”
Zach took Hunter’s hand, gave as firm a shake as he got. “She deserves a lot of credit for that. She had to help me escape before I could help her.”
Rossiter stuck out his hand next. “She’s a fighter, but we know she wouldn’t be here without your help. Thank you.”
Then it was Joaquin’s turn. He held out his hand, his emotions plain on his face. “I never would have been able to forgive myself if she’d been hurt. Thank you for doing what I couldn’t do. Thanks for keeping her safe.”
Zach knew it had been hard for Joaquin to say this. It would be hard for any man. “She never blamed you for what the Zetas did, and neither should you.”
Joaquin nodded. “I tell myself that, but . . .”
An awkward silence filled the space between them.
“It was good to meet you all. I’ve got a plane to catch first thing in the morning.” Zach turned to go, then stopped and looked back. “Natalie is a special woman. I’m glad she has such good friends. Take care of her.”
“Oh, we will. Don’t you doubt it.” Hunter crossed his arms over his chest. “And while we’re on the subject, we know your relationship with her crossed a line. We were there for about an hour before we moved up the hill.”
It took a second for Hunter’s meaning to sink in.
Son of a bitch.
That right there explained the territorial attitude.
Zach turned and faced Hunter head-on. “Natalie’s well past the age of consent. She’s smart enough to know what she wants—and whom.”
Rossiter shook his head. “She’d just been through hell and was completely dependent on you for her life. A woman in that situation is bound to be vulnerable and easy to manipulate. You should’ve kept your pants on until you—”
Zach’s temper flashed white-hot. “If you’re suggesting that she was coerced in some way, then you don’t know her very well. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that I know her better than you do at this point. If you all care so much about her, then why do none of you have a clue what happened to her during Hurricane Katrina?”
The three men stared at him, blinked.
Then as abruptly as it had come, Zach’s anger faded. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention what you saw out there to anyone. Be gentlemen and keep it to yourselves.”
Joaquin glared at him. “Like you were a gentleman?”
He has a point, man.
Hunter put a restraining hand on Joaquin’s shoulder. “No need to worry on that account, McBride. I’m not even going to tell my wife, because if I do . . . Well, let’s just say that the I-Team women have a way of sharing one another’s secrets.”
Rossiter cleared his throat. “Kat knows, but she’ll keep it to herself. She’s that way.”
Zach met each man’s gaze in turn. “Thanks. I care about Natalie more than you know.”
Then, feeling hollow, he turned and walked away.
CHAPTER 20
FRESH FROM A long, hot shower, Natalie finished drying her hair then slipped into the nightgown Zach had
bought for her.
She hadn’t known he’d packed her clothes until she’d come back to her room and found them sitting on her bed, a bit wrinkled but otherwise brand-new. To think that he had carried these things all the way from Altar . . .
At least she would have this reminder of him.
Fighting a looming sense of depression, she brushed her teeth, then drew down the covers. Emotionally exhausted but not sleepy, she was about to switch on the television, when someone knocked on the door. She stood, stared at the door, afraid to open it, afraid he’d come to say good-bye.
You can’t just leave him standing there.
Pulse tripping, she crossed the room and opened the door. “Kat!”
“I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s so good to see you!” And it was.
They drew together in a tight hug, then sat on the bed like girls at a high school slumber party, Natalie in her nightgown, Kat in a red broomstick skirt and a white blouse, her long, dark hair pulled back in a silver barrette. But the topic of their conversation was much more sinister than anything Natalie could have imagined as a teenager.
She told Kat what had happened from the moment the bus was attacked to the arrival of the Shadow Wolves, leaving out only the intimate details of her relationship with Zach. But sharing her story with Kat was different than sharing it with Agent Chiago. Giving a deposition was all about facts. This was about feelings, too.
By the time she finished, they were both in tears, a box of tissues sitting on the bed between them.
“When Julian told us that we probably wouldn’t see you again, I thought I was going to throw up.” Kat wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’m ashamed to say it, but I tried not to think about what they might be doing to you because I couldn’t stand it. I prayed for you every day. We held a special sweat lodge to pray for you.”
“Thank you.” Natalie gave Kat’s hand a squeeze, more touched than she could convey. “And thank you for cracking Zach’s code. I had no idea what I was saying when I read that over the phone.”
“Zach must be a very special man to do all that he did for you. Gabe tells me he’s a former Navy SEAL, a Medal of Honor recipient, and a deputy U.S. marshal.”
Natalie couldn’t help but smile, a bittersweet ache in her chest. “He’s . . . incredible. The pain he endured, the way he watched out for me, his ability to strategize, even the way he moves—I’ve never seen anyone who can do what he does. He put his life on the line for me.”
“You did the same for him.” Kat gave her hand a squeeze. “Breaking out of that filthy, infested cell, beating the heck out of that Zeta guard, setting Zach free when you could have left him behind—that was incredibly brave, too, you know.”
Coming from Kat, this felt to Natalie like a great compliment.
“Zach is the brave one. What they put him through . . . If you had heard his screams . . .” She shuddered. “I only met him five days ago, but it feels like so much longer than that. Now he’s going back to his life, and I’m going back to mine. And I’m going to miss him.”
“You care about him. I can tell.”
And then Natalie could keep it to herself no longer. “I . . . I had sex with him.”
Strangely, Kat didn’t seem surprised by this revelation. Maybe it was obvious. Then again, Kat was very good at reading people.
Natalie went on. “Being with him is . . . amazing. But now he’s leaving. And that really stinks because I didn’t think I could even have feelings for a man.”
Kat looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I was engaged once.”
Telling Zach about Beau must have opened up something inside her. She found herself telling Kat about her life before the storm and how Beau and her parents had died and why, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I loved Beau so much, Kat. For six years, I’ve spent every moment of my life missing him. And some part of me feels guilty not because I had sex with Zach, but because it didn’t make me think of Beau. I want to move on with my life. I want to have love again. But I don’t want to forget Beau.”
For a moment, Kat said nothing.
“The Lakota have a special way of dealing with mourning. They spend a year acknowledging their grief, and then they hold a Wiping of the Tears Ceremony so that they can move beyond sadness. You haven’t yet wiped away your tears.” She picked up a tissue and with great tenderness dabbed Natalie’s cheeks. “Moving on and finding love again doesn’t mean you have to forget Beau. He will always be there, inside you, in your memories. Moving on only means that you wipe your tears away—and let yourself live and love again.”
Natalie had never thought of it quite like that before. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you finally told me what it was that had broken your heart. I knew there was something, but you never talked about it. You’re like a sister to me, Natalie. I’m happy I could be here for you.” Then she put her hand on her belly and rubbed, and Natalie noticed something she hadn’t before.
“Are you . . . Are you pregnant again?”
Kat smiled, nodding. “Thirteen weeks. I haven’t said anything. With Tessa having problems, it doesn’t seem right.”
“Did you plan to have another baby so soon?”
Alissa was only nine months old.
“Gabe and I agreed to go the first ten years of our marriage without using contraception.”
“No contraception at all? You could end up with . . . ten kids.”
“Big families are common among traditional Navajo.” Kat smiled, clearly amused by Natalie’s surprise. “My grandmother gave birth to twelve children. My mother had eleven. I look at Alissa, and I see both Gabe and myself in her. It’s hard to explain, but it feels to me that Gabe and I are truly joined together in her. How could I not want to have lots of children with him when I love him so much?”
“That’s a beautiful way of looking at it, though I don’t know that I would want to have ten babies even if . . .” And then she remembered.
The condom.
She’d completely forgotten about that the moment the Shadow Wolves had arrived. What if she got pregnant as a result? She started doing mental math, trying to figure out where she was in her cycle.
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“No. I . . . Well, it’s just that—”
There was another knock at the door.
Kat stood, tossing the tissue in the trash. “It’s probably Gabe. I told him to come get me when Alissa woke up. She wakes up to nurse at night.”
Remembering what she was wearing, Natalie walked to the door and opened it discreetly so that only her head was showing. But it wasn’t Gabe who’d knocked.
It was Zach.
Clean-shaven, his hair still wet, he leaned against the doorjamb wearing a pair of jeans and a black shirt with its sleeves rolled up. He looked in, saw Kat. “Oh. You’ve got company. I don’t want to bother you. I can come back.”
He turned to go.
“No, no, it’s fine. I was just leaving.” Kat held out her hand. “I’m Kat James, Gabe’s wife. Ahéhee’. Thank you for helping Natalie get home to us. You were the answer to many prayers.”
Zach took her hand, looking almost embarrassed by her praise. “Yeah, well, I guess I was in the wrong place at the right time. Thanks for decoding that message. Was it difficult?”
“It was harder than I thought it would be, but I was happy to help. It made me feel like I was doing something. Good night, Natalie. I’m so grateful you’re safe.” Then Kat gave Natalie another hug and disappeared down the hallway.
His gaze met Natalie’s. “Can I come in?”
ZACH COULD SEE she’d been crying. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Liar.
“I’m sorry I slapped you.”
“I probably deserved it.” He ran a thumb down one tearstained cheek, his gaze taking in every feature on her sweet face. She looked up at him,
both longing and fear in her eyes. The longing he understood. But the fear?
I’m so afraid I’ll never see you again after tonight. Don’t you dare leave without saying good-bye, Zach McBride.
He’d come to say good-bye—and to give her his contact information at the El Paso Intelligence Center so she could reach him if it turned out he’d gotten her pregnant. But now that he was here, now that he was with her, the words wouldn’t come.
This is it, McBride. Say good-bye.
Fuck that.
He still had tonight.
He lifted her into his arms, some primitive part of him gratified by her surprised little gasp, then carried her the few short feet to the bed, lowered her onto the sheets, and stretched himself out above her. He claimed her mouth with his, kissing her with a desperation he’d never felt before, just being close to her dissolving the blackness that had gathered in his chest.
She came alive beneath him, sliding one hand into his hair, melting into him, her tongue carrying the minty taste of toothpaste into his mouth. And, oh, the girl could kiss. Whether it was her Cajun blood, something she’d learned from Beau, or her own special sensuality, she put her whole body into it, her breasts pressing against his chest, her hips undulating beneath him, her lips, her tongue, her teeth teasing him, defying him, forcing him to take control back from her again and again.
He dragged his mouth off hers, out of breath, his body shaking with the urgent need to be inside her. He took off his shirt, felt Natalie’s hands slide over his bare chest. Then she reached for his zipper. But this was moving too fast. Too fast.
If all he had was tonight, then he was going to make it last.
He caught her wrists, brought her hands to his lips. “Slow down.”
She gave a frustrated, breathless whimper, her lips swollen and wet, her pupils dilated, her hands clenched into fists.
Slowly, his eyes on hers, he drew her arms over her head and pinned them there, the little tremor that ran through her proof that she could handle a little gentle domination—and might even enjoy it.