Navy SEAL Rescuer (11 page)

“You can ask, you know,” he said, as if he knew exactly what
she was wondering.

“It’s not my business.”

“Does it have to be? Can’t you just ask because you want to
know?”

“I don’t do small talk, Darius.” Besides, the question wouldn’t
really be small talk. It would be Catherine finding out more about a man she
already found appealing. That was dangerous territory, and she was pretty sure
she didn’t want to go there.

Pretty sure, but she looked at his dark tennis shoes and
wondered how it was possible for a guy who was missing part of his leg to run
and move like he did.

“You must have a great prosthesis.” The words slipped out, and
he smiled that easy smile that made her pulse jump.

“I do. State-of-the-art.” He handed her the box and papers, and
she knew that looking at them should be more important than looking in his
eyes.

“Your right leg?”

“Left, but good guess.”

His comment surprised a laugh out of her. “I had a fifty-fifty
shot, and I blew it. I wouldn’t call that a good guess.”

“You should do that more often, Catherine.”

“What?”

“Laugh. You’re always beautiful, but when you laugh...you’re
irresistible.”

“I don’t want to be irresistible.” Her amusement fled as
quickly as it had come.

“Then, what do you want to be?”

“Free.” There it was. The crux of her problem. Being released
from prison hadn’t freed her from the past. Nothing could do that. Not even
leaving Pine Bluff.

“Of what?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You’re complicated,” he responded, and she couldn’t help
smiling. He did that to her. Put her at ease and made her feel lighter than she
had in a very long time.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like it.”

“You shouldn’t talk like that, Darius,” she responded as she
walked down the stairs and into Eileen’s bedroom.

“Why not?”

“Because...just because.” She took an overnight case from the
closet, grabbed clothes from the small dresser.

“Do you think Eileen will agree to leave town with you when
she’s released from the hospital?” He changed the subject completely.

“No, but I’ll try to convince her anyway.” She placed the
papers into the box and dropped it into the case. She’d open the envelope and
read through the papers more thoroughly later. Right now, she wanted to be at
the hospital and away from Darius, because the more time she spent with him, the
more time she wanted to spend. The more she knew, the more she wanted to
know.

That scared her.

She could admit it, but she didn’t like it.

“All set?”

“Yes.” She slipped her feet into flip-flops, the cuffs of her
jeans dragging the floor as she followed Darius outside. He set the alarm,
checked the lock on the door, scanned the yard and the field across the street,
made the extra precautions seem as natural as breathing.

Maybe, for him, they were.

For Catherine they were a reminder that someone wanted her
dead.

She glanced at the old pine tree as Darius hurried her to his
truck. Yellow crime scene tape surrounded the area, but the police and bomb
squad were long gone. It wouldn’t have been difficult for the perpetrator to
return and set another bomb in the tree, under the porch, at the foundation of
the old house.

She shivered, climbing into the truck and slamming the door
before Darius could close it. She felt safer inside the truck’s cab than she did
out in the open, but her skin still crawled, her heart pounding frantically.

“Are you okay?” Darius asked as he hopped into the truck.

“I think so.”

“You’re pale.” He studied her intently, his eyes gleaming in
reflected sunlight.

“I’m a redhead.”

“I’ve noticed.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his
fingers grazing her jaw as his hand dropped away.

“What’s with you and all the touching?” she asked, because she
wanted him to stop, but didn’t want him to.

“I guess I’m just a touchy-feely kind of guy. Why? Does it
bother you?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad.”

“You’re not going to stop?”

“No.” He backed out of the driveway as Catherine tried to think
of an appropriate response. Tried to think of
any
response.

She couldn’t.

That was the thing about Darius. He knocked her off balance.
Made her forget how important it was to be independent and stay independent.

Her cell phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket, glad for
the distraction. “Hello?”

“Ms. Miller?” a soft, female voice asked.

“Yes.”

“This is Dr. Snyder. I’m the lead cardiologist at Sacred
Heart.” At her words, Catherine’s blood when cold.

“What happened?”

“I’m afraid your grandmother had a heart attack. It’s
imperative that you get here as soon as possible.”

“Is she...?” She couldn’t make herself say the words, couldn’t
choke them out past her fear.

“We’re doing everything we can to resuscitate her.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” She shoved the phone back
into her pocket, her hands shaking. Eileen couldn’t die. She could
not
die.

Darius didn’t ask about the phone call, but the truck jumped
forward, weeds and trees flying by in a flash of color and texture as they
bounced onto the highway and sped toward the hospital.

“I don’t think she’s going to make it,” Catherine whispered,
because she couldn’t keep the terrible thought to herself, and because Darius
was there, strong and dependable and trustworthy.

He reached over and took her hand, and Catherine held on tight,
praying desperately that her words wouldn’t come true.

ELEVEN

C
atherine’s silence, her blank expression
and the desperate way she clung to his hand conveyed an urgency that shot
through Darius with every breath, every heartbeat.

He made a quick call as he neared Sacred Heart, arranging for a
security guard to meet them in the lobby. He’d park the truck after Catherine
was inside the hospital.

He pulled up in front of the emergency entrance, putting on his
hazard lights and jumping out, his leg catching as he ran to open Catherine’s
door.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said, her face
paper-white.

“You don’t have a choice,” he responded gently, urging her out
of the truck and into the emergency room lobby.

“Are you going home?” she asked, and he thought that she really
wanted to ask if he would stay.

“I’m going to park the truck, and then I’ll meet you in
Eileen’s room.” He gestured to a security guard who paced the waiting area.

“Are you Osborne?” he asked.

“Yes. Thanks for meeting us down here. You understand the
situation?”

“I’ll escort her to the room, and I’ll wait there until you
arrive.”

“I appreciate it.” He turned to Catherine. “I shouldn’t be more
than five minutes.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak. He could see the fear in her
eyes. He wanted to forget the truck, walk up to the room with her, but having
his vehicle towed would make it difficult to get Catherine home.

She didn’t need any more difficulty in her day than she’d
already had.

He raced back to the truck, found a parking space and was in
the elevator heading for Eileen’s room three minutes later.

It seemed to take forever to reach the third floor, and when he
did, he knew the news wasn’t good.

Catherine stood outside Eileen’s room, two doctors flanking
her. She met his gaze, her eyes swimming with tears.

“She’s gone,” she breathed, shock in her voice and in her
eyes.

He pulled her into his arms, pressed her head to his chest,
smoothing her hair as she sobbed.

“We attempted resuscitation for thirty minutes, but her heart
never started again. I’m so sorry, Catherine.” A tall, pretty doctor with
dove-gray eyes and a gentle voice touched Catherine’s back.

“I need to see her.” Catherine straightened, wiping tears from
her cheeks as more and more fell. She looked lost and sad and lonely, and Darius
wanted to pull her back in his arms again, tell her that he understood. That the
wound would eventually scar over. Still there, but not quite as raw or
horrible.

“Of course. Take as much time as you need.” The second doctor
patted her arm and pushed open the door, his lined face filled with
compassion.

“Want me to come with you?” Darius touched Catherine’s arm,
felt her muscles trembling beneath warm smooth skin.

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I need to say goodbye
alone.”

“All right.” He stepped back, remembering the pain of his
mother’s death, the helplessness he’d felt as he’d stood in her hospital room
and stared down at her lifeless body. His only family...gone, and he’d felt
alone and vulnerable and scared.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into a half hour. He
didn’t want to interrupt Catherine’s goodbye, but concern edged him closer to
the door.

He’d give her another few minutes, and then he’d knock. He
couldn’t change what happened, but at least he could help her feel less
alone.

Seconds later, the door opened and Catherine appeared.

Wan and exhausted, tears tracking down her face, she met his
eyes. “I guess she really is gone.”

“Come here.” He pulled her into his arms, and she didn’t
resist, didn’t protest, just leaned into him, her hands clutching his shirt.

“I thought we’d have more time.”

“I know.” He smoothed her hair, and she burrowed closer. She
fit perfectly there, her head just beneath his chin, her body slowly relaxing
into his.

“I need to call the funeral home and the church, make all the
arrangements.”

“I can help.”

“You’ve already done too much.”

“Eileen asked me to look out for you, remember?” he asked as
Catherine stepped away.

“She asked you to protect me. There’s a difference between that
and looking out for me.”

“She asked me to look out for you. Those were her exact words,
Catherine, and I plan to honor my promise to do so.”

She gave in with a shrug, turning to face a nurse who was
walking toward them. Her tears had stopped, but the sadness in her face tugged
at Darius’s heart.

* * *

Foggy.

That’s how things felt. Foggy and dull, and Catherine couldn’t
find it in herself to care. She went through the motions, calling the funeral
home, calling the church, spreading the news she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to
spread for months, maybe even years.

Eileen.

Gone.

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, but she couldn’t let them
fall. Not yet. Later, when she was alone, she’d cry again. Cry as long as she
wanted, because there wouldn’t be anyone to see or hear.

“How are you holding up?” Darius asked as he drove her back
home, and she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say.

Okay?

She wasn’t.

Not even close.

She’d known from the day that she’d stepped back into the
farmhouse and seen Eileen’s gaunt face and brittle frame that she was going to
have to say goodbye. She just hadn’t known how quickly or suddenly she’d have to
do it. “I’ll be all right.”

“You will be eventually, but I want to know how you’re doing
now,” he persisted. Which seemed to be Darius’s theme. Press in close and keep
on pressing. Move into her space and refuse to move out of it. She wasn’t sure
what he hoped to get from it. She almost thought he wasn’t hoping for anything
except to help and support and be a friend.

But, she’d never known anyone who’d wanted nothing from her.
Not one relationship out of all the ones she’d been in had been without
strings.

“Empty.”

He patted her knee, his hand resting there as he pulled into
her driveway. The house looked even older than it had a few hours ago, the
facade sagging beneath the weight of this new sorrow.

“How about we grab some of your things, and you come to my
place for the night?” Darius suggested, shifting in his seat so they were eye to
eye. He hadn’t showered, hadn’t shaved, hadn’t taken a minute to do anything for
himself, and he still looked handsome enough to grace the cover of
GQ.

“I’ll be okay here.”

“Eileen’s passing doesn’t change the fact that you’re in
danger, Catherine. You can’t stay here alone.”

“I can’t stay with you, so we’re at an impasse,” she argued but
felt no passion for it. She’d said she felt empty, and she did, but she also
felt defeated and old and worn to the bone. All those years in prison, all the
dreams of being exonerated, of coming home and starting fresh seemed senseless
in light of Eileen’s death.

“I’ll call a coworker to come. It’s protocol to have at least
two operatives at a safe house.”

Two operatives? Safe house?

The words were dramatic, but the seriousness of the situation
was in Darius’s face. He looked determined, and Catherine didn’t have the energy
to argue.

“All right.”

“We can stay here or at my place. Your choice.”

She looked at the sagging house, thought about staying there
without Eileen. “Your place sounds good.”

He walked her inside, their footsteps echoing in the emptiness.
The air held a hint of cigarette smoke, and Catherine pictured Eileen as she’d
been a decade ago, still young and healthy, a cigarette dangling from her lips,
a sardonic smile on her face. She’d never been a warm and fuzzy grandmother. She
hadn’t baked cookies or braided hair. She’d loved, though, and that had been
plenty.

Catherine left Darius in the foyer and hurried to her room,
tears clogging her throat and blurring her vision. This was what Eileen would
have wanted. A quick death as opposed to a long, drawn-out one. She hadn’t
wanted to linger. She’d told Catherine that more than once, but Catherine had
wanted her to. She’d wanted more time, because she’d missed out on so many
years.

She sniffed, wiping away a tear as she shoved a few things into
a duffel and zipped it. She wasn’t sure what she’d grabbed, but it would do for
the night. The funeral would be in four days, and when it was over, she’d pack
the rest of her things and leave town for good.

Or, maybe she wouldn’t pack. Maybe she’d just leave. Start
completely fresh somewhere else.

She walked into Eileen’s room, ran her hand over the bed frame.
They hadn’t moved it back into place, and the floor board still lay a foot from
where it should. She started to replace it, but something caught her eye. Edged
up against the floor joist and covered in dust, the small book looked like a
Bible. Surprised, Catherine lifted it.

Yep. A Bible.

Though Eileen had taken Catherine to church every Sunday while
she was growing up, Bible reading hadn’t been part of their daily lives. Maybe
things had changed while Catherine was in prison. Maybe Eileen had found comfort
in scripture.

She lifted the little Bible, wiping dust from the cover.

Just an ordinary Bible.

She opened it, found a folded piece of paper inside, her name
scrawled across it in Eileen’s oversize loopy handwriting. Her heart jerked, her
hands trembling as she unfolded it and read it silently.

So, I guess this is it, Catherine. The final goodbye. Don’t cry
too much, okay? I’m fine. Off in a better place with a better body. Don’t beat
yourself up, either. There was nothing you could have done to change things. We
all have a certain amount of time on this earth. This was mine. I think I lived
it pretty well. When I look at you, I know I did. So, like I said, don’t cry too
much, and don’t let the things in the past keep you from having a wonderful
future. I love you, Kitty-cat. Life wasn’t always easy, but having you around
filled it up to overflowing. Thanks for being such a great kid!

Typical Eileen. Straight to the point. No undue sentiment. The
note made Catherine smile even as tears poured down her cheeks. She set it back
in the Bible, wrapping her arms around her bent knees, sitting in the silent
room, tears falling as she thought of Eileen dancing a jig, her body healthy and
strong again.

The floorboard on the stairs creaked, but she didn’t get up.
One day soon, the house would belong to someone else. The room that had been
Eileen’s for most of her life would be someone else’s retreat. Catherine’s
childhood was gone, a whisper on the wind. Her parents. Now, her
grandmother.

She was all that was left, the only one to hold the memories of
what used to be.

Darius entered the room silently, not even a shuffle of
footfall as he crossed the room and dropped down beside her.

He didn’t speak, just wrapped an arm around her shoulders,
moving in close so that they were pressed hip to hip, arm to arm, side to side,
his warmth a blanket that held the chill of loneliness at bay.

Catherine’s tears kept falling, silent and hot and painful. She
leaned her head against his shoulder, his breath ruffling her hair, his hand
smoothing circles on her arm, and she felt like she had known him forever. Felt
like they had sat together a thousand times, just this way.

She closed her eyes, endless tears pouring into the silent room
as she gave in to herself and her needs and cried into his shoulder, his scent
filling her nose, the slow, steady beat of his heart assuring her that she
wasn’t alone.