Reckless Endangerment (12 page)

“I like Dalton,” she said after a prolonged silence.  “He’s a cool kid.  He sounds like quite the athlete.  Want to tell me about this Callie who’s trying to take him away from you?”

He shook his head ‘no’ rather than answering.  For one night, he didn’t want to discuss problems. 

She toyed with her wedding ring, head bent.  “For what it’s worth, I’m having a hard time adjusting, too.  A home, family, dog...slower pace.  No one here really gets what we’ve seen and they don’t want to know, if they’re honest about it.  Denver’s a long way from a war zone.”

“Yeah, it is.”  He played with the lid of the pizza box.  “At least at Walter Reed I was surrounded by other vets.  I wasn’t exactly sociable, but they tried to understand.  I resisted their understanding.”

She gazed at him, a twisted grin on her face.  “I could have stayed a war correspondent, remained with some of the old crew.  I tried for a little bit, actually. I didn’t have the heart anymore.  I only wanted to come home.”

“Happy hour in Denver.”  He smiled at the memory of her talking about coming home and hanging out at happy hour like a normal person.  “Have you enjoyed many beers since coming home?”

“Quite a few, yeah.”   

They smiled at each other, the first truly peaceful moment they’d shared in months.  He sighed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.  Unable to maintain eye contact, he looked around the room.  His gaze fell on the wooden box containing her letters and his unmailed responses. 

“I wrote you back,” he whispered without looking at her.  “I used to read your notes and imagine where you were when you wrote them, tried to visualize your surroundings.  I read them over and over again.  When I was recovering from surgery number two, you’d sent a note written on a cocktail napkin from some hotel in Egypt.  I read it again and again until it fell into pieces.”

She stopped fidgeting with the ring and stared at him as if he’d shape shifted into another being in front of her eyes.  “You wrote me back?”

“Yeah.”  He flicked his gaze toward her before focusing on the pizza box.  Maybe he shouldn’t have admitted that, he didn’t know.  Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say when he’d wanted to avoid another fight. 

“Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”  She rubbed the back of her neck again, eyes closed and sighed.  “I should probably go, leave you alone, and let you do whatever it is you were doing.”

“I was just sitting here...I’m not exactly busy these days.”  He grinned, not quite believing the words coming out of his mouth.  “Can you stay for awhile?  Hang out?”

“Hang out?” She laughed before looking at him.  Exhaustion shadowed her green eyes.  “Yeah, I can hang out.  Just don’t let me fall asleep.  I need to get home and take Dude for a run later tonight.  Deal?”

He nodded, words failing him.  When it came to Hope, he realized he didn’t have the right words anymore.  Logic battled with love.  For five months, he’d thought he was doing what was best for both of them by pushing her away and going it alone.  Now he wasn’t so sure.  He’d missed her so damn much.  Nothing felt real...not being with her, sitting in this room, eating pizza, drinking a beer.  He’d died in a war zone and woken up in Germany thinking he’d be paralyzed forever.  It had been constant fight or flight mode since then. 

She pushed away from the table and walked toward the sofa without waiting for him.  With a sigh, she grabbed a blanket from the back of the cushions and curled up in a corner.  She twisted her hair into a loose knot at the top of her head, face averted toward the television.

He moved to the sofa, locked the brakes on the chair, and took a deep breath.  Even though she didn’t appear to be paying attention to him, he didn’t want to embarrass himself by falling onto the floor in a heap again.  He’d practiced this a hundred times in the past few months, but never with her in the room.  With as much nonchalance as he could fake, he moved from his wheelchair to the sofa.  Not looking at her, he shifted his weight and dragged his paralyzed left leg in front of him. 

All the surgeries coupled with physical therapy had been emotional torture for the past months.  Sometimes he’d felt like someone had gutted his brains like kids taking out the insides of a pumpkin for a jack-o-lantern.  He’d been trained for a lot of things--combat, strategies, even torture--but nothing had prepared him for feeling helpless. 

“Baby’s got skills,” she said with a smile as she scooted closer to him on the sofa. “Sexy move.”

He grinned without making eye contact.  Awkwardness rattled the air between them.  Asking her to stay had been a moment of weakness. 

She curled her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder.  When she sighed, he closed his eyes and soaked up the moment.  Damn, she felt good pressed against him.  He dropped his arm around her shoulder and caressed her shoulder. 

“It’s okay to relax now,” she said, her hold tightening.  “The worst is over.”

“Are you sure?”  He absentmindedly rubbed the back of her neck, gaze locked on the top of her head.  “Seems like the worst is just beginning.”

“Such a cynic.” She dropped her head further down on his chest to grant him easier access to her neck.  Damn, the woman’s muscles were in knots. 

He decided not to press the issue.  The simplicity of the moment wasn’t lost on him.  It felt good, actually.  Surreal, yes, but nice.  He sighed, rubbed her neck and watched the television without really listening.  Before he knew it, she’d fallen asleep against him, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.  He liked it more than he should.

His gaze slid toward the wooden box.  Maybe he’d give her his unsent letters, let her see that he’d missed her more than he’d claimed.  Or maybe not--perhaps that day would never come.  For now, all he knew for sure was that he enjoyed her sleeping against him while he rubbed the knots in her neck loose.  He’d forgotten life could be this easy, even if only for a moment.

Chapter Seven

A field trip of loud elementary kids ran past her in the museum as she waited in front of the Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton inside the main entrance to Denver’s Museum of Nature and Science.  Her gaze moved toward a group of women balancing strollers on the escalators.  Stay-at-home moms...kids on a field day...the innocence of it all intrigued her as if she were watching a foreign film and couldn’t quite make out the subtitles.  She loosened the yellow scarf from around her neck and glanced down at her leather coat, black dress and boots.  With a sigh, she shoved the scarf inside the messenger bag and shrugged off the discomfort that seemed perpetually wrapped around her shoulders. 

She briefly thought of Dalton, wondered if he’d visited the museum with his grandparents, felt a pang of sadness for the lonely life he’d led without his parents and the confusion he must feel now that his father had returned yet...hadn’t.  It must confuse him, this state of limbo they were all living.   

“You look lost in thought,” Rourke said from where he’d suddenly appeared at her side. 

“I don’t like wasting time, Rourke.”  She slid him a sideways glance before looking back toward the dinosaur.  “Interesting meeting place.  I thought you wanted to lay low, not be seen with me, all of that.”

“I’ll be out of it by the end of the day.  I promise you that.”  He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his anxiety palpable.  “Listen, when this first started, I had no idea what I was getting into.”

She snapped her head around to look at him at that.  “Sounds like a confession, Rourke.”

“We’re not on the record.”  He handed her a flash drive.  “I’m asking you not to look at this until tomorrow.  One more thing, it’s important that I protect my family from any fall out, do you understand?  If you mention me at all, can you do me the courtesy of using my name favorably?”

She doubted it.  She stuffed the flash drive into her pocket and studied him.  The man had a squirrelly vibe to him.  His tie was askew, hair a mess and eyes wild with desperation.  She stepped back. 

“Why wait until tomorrow before looking at this content?  What difference can a day make?” she asked.

He shrugged, defeat shrouding him.  “You’re going to do what you’re going to do, I don’t have control over that.  All I’m asking for is a favor, which I know I don’t deserve.  One day, Shane.  That’s all I need.”

She swallowed and looked away toward the field trip kids who were now headed up the escalator. Fear skittered over her skin on a million spider legs.  Something was off.

When Rourke suddenly grabbed her forearm and forced her to focus on him, she stiffened as if ready for a blow.  He leaned close, the scent of alcohol wafting to her, eyes bloodshot and fearful. 

“Listen, Shane, you need to understand that I never wanted any of this.  I didn’t know.”

“Liar.” She squinted at him, not pulling away as she stared into his eyes.  “You knew.  Guilt is pushing you to do this, to rat them out...why me? Why not go to the FBI and let them put you in witness protection or something?”

“You’re so naive.  Don’t trust anyone, Shane. Money corrupts even the purest of idealists.”

“Give me names.  Talk is useless without something to back it up.”

“This goes higher than you think, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You’re not saying anything, that’s the problem.”  She leaned toward him, instinct told her danger lurked close and adrenaline sloshed through her veins like lava.  “Come with me.  Let me get this on film, we’ll disguise your identity.  I protect my sources, Rourke.  Trust me.  Come with me.  Let’s do this together. 

“You’re not afraid, are you?  Not even slightly.  You don’t even look away from me, instead you look like you’re ready to battle.  That’s scary, Shane.” He dropped his hands from her and stepped back, a sad energy swelling around him that made her sick to her stomach. 


“I’ve been called worse,” she muttered, her fingers closing around the flash drive in her pocket.  “What’s at stake here? Exactly, no more innuendo.  If you want to redeem yourself, then stand with me. I know people.  I have ways of protecting you and your family. You want me to trust you so maybe it’s time to trust me.”

“Trusting you isn’t the issue and you shouldn’t trust me at all...you shouldn’t trust anyone.  Then again, you don’t, do you?  It’s all a game to you, isn’t it?  This act of trust me and I’ll trust you...you could care less about my family or me.  You want the story.”

“That’s why you came to me, isn’t it?”  Sometimes she wished she smoked so she’d have something to do with her hands.  In old movies, all the reporters and private eyes smoked and she understood why...nervous energy. 

Rourke exhaled a long breath, his gaze moving beyond hers to the escalators moving to the levels above them.  “My wife used to bring the kids here when they were little.  Everything was different then.  Simple.  It’s not a safe world anymore, Shane.  I have a sixteen-year-old daughter now.  I can’t believe what I’ve been a part of, the things I’ve done.  They’ll never forgive me.”

Everything about this man screamed desperation.  She didn’t like it. 

“I don’t have all day to sit around here and play word games with you.  Come back to the station with me and let me make some calls.  Own this situation, Rourke,” she said. 

“It’s too late to protect me.”  His smile didn’t reach his eyes.  “Own the situation?  Isn’t that what I’m doing?  Protect Angel...she’s your source now.  What you need to know is on that flash drive, don’t let anyone else see it.  Promise me you’ll protect Angel.”

Angel, huh?  No way in hell she was going to wait to read the content of that flash drive.  “I’ll protect her.”

“Promise me.”  Intensity rolled off of him like an avalanche. 

She flinched at the stench of bourbon on his breath.  “I promise I’ll protect Angel.  C’mon, Rourke.  You’re not in this alone anymore...come back to the station with me.”

He shook his head before glancing around the space as if seeing it for the first time.  “It’s funny how I never thought of the consequences, not once.  I thought I was above it all somehow...that money insulated me from morality.  Give me a day, Shane.”

He turned abruptly and walked toward the exit. 

All the old feelings she used to have in Afghanistan rolled through her like a muscle spasm.  Fear.  Caution.  A knowing that all hell was about to break loose.  She followed him, almost running to catch up even though she didn’t know why.  Instinct moved her feet until she stood outside in the chilly air. 

Sunshine blinded her.  She lost sight of him for a minute while she searched for her sunglasses. Then she spotted him toward the back of the parking lot weaving between cars. 

Gunfire froze her mid-stride. The crack shattered the still cold air.  She watched Rourke fall behind a SUV, heard kids, mothers, teachers and pedestrians screaming as they raced for cover after another gunshot rang out. Then another.  Whoever was shooting wanted to make sure they got their man.  She stood, breath trapped in her throat, as people raced around her. 

Without looking away from the chaos while security guards called for help, she reached into her messenger bag for her beat up hat and pulled it over her hair before grabbing the scarf.  She thought of Rourke’s words about not trusting anyone, turned her back on the crime scene, and walked away.  She had someone named Angel to protect, and, from the look of things, she didn’t have time to waste.