Code Name: Kayla's Fire (12 page)

“Seriously?” he said gruffly.

She blinked at that. “Yes, seriously. Is he sick? What’s going on?”

Cobbs cleared his throat. “You did what no other woman has
accomplished. You broke the man’s heart.”

She sat up straight. “I did what? Is this about what Greg told him the
other night in the bathroom? I talked to him after that. I told him I wasn’t
giving up on finding the Shark. How does that translate into breaking his
heart?”

“Kayla, Greg told Thane he’d asked you to marry him.”

“I know that, but so what?”

“He said you were considering it. Thane thinks he’s lost you. He won’t
talk with anyone. I tried seeing him a couple hours ago. He’s a fucking wreck,
and I’d leave him that way until he works it out for himself.”

“I said I was considering going home, after the Shark is caught. I
never said anything about marrying the man.” She bit her lip as her heart
churned madly. “I have to talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t do that today.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t drink much, but he can be a bitter asshole when he does.”

“I’ve gotta go. Thanks, Lieutenant.”

“Snow White.” She waited to let him finish. “If you love the man, you
need to tell him. He’s my best friend, and he’d shit all over me if he ever
found out I shared this with you, but he needs you. More than he’ll ever
probably tell you. You’ve had him running stupid for months. I know he can be a
stubborn, overbearing shithead, but he loves you to the core. He’ll never
betray you.”

A blanket of warmth eased her fears and she nodded. “Thanks
Lieutenant,” she whispered and ended the call. She closed her eyes, and tried
to concentrate on the wind, but she couldn’t feel it. They were both stubborn
shitheads, but she’d been worse than him. All the things that scared her had
rallied like an impenetrable wall, and stopped her from telling Thane what she
felt.

She took a deep breath. It was time for her to be brave.

Chapter Eleven

She knocked on Thane’s front door. No answer. She peeked in the side
window. The burnt orange of the evening sun shone into a silent house, and
brightened the walnut floors. Saying she was nervous would be an
understatement, but she was prepared with the best weapon she could rally, the
truth.

Skirting the garage, she turned the corner, stopping in her tracks.
Thane lay back in a lounge chair, his arm draped over the side, a liquor bottle
loosely gripped in his fingers as he stared up at the heavens. Her heart raced
seeing his bare chest, tanned to a golden brown. If a man’s physical perfection
was based on the way his body rolled in its own power, narrowing at the waist
into comfortable worn jeans, and bare feet resting on the wood planks of his
deck, Thane was perfection.

“Go home, Kayla,” he said without looking up.

“Captain—”

“Go home,” he growled, but kept his eyes heavenward.

Scared, but unable to turn back, she knew when an alpha male got too
friendly with a bottle the mission usually ended in violence. She stepped
across the garden between the aloe plants. A beautiful white flower poked from
the core of one of them. “Thane.”

“It’s Captain to you. I’m your senior officer,” he slurred, and his
head swayed as he pulled the bottle in front of his face, shook it a little,
and seeing it was empty, flicked his wrist and sent it flying off the deck. It
landed with a crack next to three other empty bottles of whiskey. “That’s all.”

“Yes, sir.” Keeping a steady hand on her nerves, she approached him.
“You’ve been missing in action, sir.” A few more steps brought her to the deck.

His eyes focused on her. “If you’re dropping off a wedding invitation,
you can save the paper. I’ll be out of country. Won’t be able to make it.”

“Sir, would you mind if I sat?” she asked, nodding toward the other
chair beside him.

He thrust himself forward, and slapped the arms of his lounger. A
piece of plastic broke off, hit the deck, and skittered off into the grass.
“Nope, but you can’t have this one.” His hands slid down the cushion between
his legs. “This one’s mine. It’s where I fucked you for the first time.” A
flash of anger, and then uncertainty played across his eyes, and he swallowed
deeply.

She tentatively stepped up onto the landing. Thane’s topaz eyes were
rimmed and red, from either alcohol or tears, maybe both. “I remember,” she
said quietly. “I also remember you telling me over and over again, we made
love, we didn’t—Why are you acting like this?”

He swayed and flopped back, his eyes sliding up and down her body. He
shook his head slowly. “Like what, Snow White? Can’t a guy let loose once in a
while? Christ, I deserve it, don’t I? I’ve had to put up with you,” he said
with a jerk of his head.

“I suppose.”

A drunken grin crossed his lips. “You suppose?” His brows rose at
different times. “Jesus, woman, you’re a fucking nutcase, and I’ve been just as
screwed up trying to protect you from the Shark and from yourself, and from
me.” He cocked his head. “But I failed, never completed the mission.”

Her heart did a HALO jump, but didn’t deploy and crashed into the pit
of her stomach. Tears pressed at her eyes, but she held them back. She
was
a fucking nutcase, and she wouldn’t
blame him for saying the truth. Alcohol loosened the lips, yet instead of
leaving, she was going to stay and hear what his inebriated thoughts wouldn’t
hold back. “I can’t argue with that, Captain.”

His jaw tightened into hard, angry corners as he surveyed her. “They
should use you as a weapon, sweetheart. You can take a man and destroy him just
by existing.” He blew out his breath, and then cocked his head. “I’m not
surprised your first husband went insane with possessiveness. You’ve managed to
dangle a man like Lapierre from your fingers for twenty years. Impressive.” He
thrust himself to his feet. “I need a drink.”

Thane staggered through the patio doors, then reappeared with a new
bottle and two glasses, slamming them down on the small table between them.
“Let’s have a drink, Lieutenant Banks. You’ve earned it,” he said, dropping unsteadily
to his chair. He chuckled as he poured the amber liquid into thick glasses,
picking one up, and offering it to her. “You served your country. You served my
country, and you serviced me.” He sloppily scooped his up, presenting it for a
toast. “Best fucking sex I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a hell of a lot.”

She took the glass, and stared into the eyes of the man she respected,
and whose concern for her was quickly morphing into hate. Someone famous once
said,
it was a very thin line
, and
Thane was crossing it, and he’d blow the bridge up behind him. Without a single
doubt, if he hurt her, she’d take every lash, and demand more, if it would ease
his pain. She swallowed deeply, and tipped her glass to his. His hand clamped
around her wrist. She didn’t move, soaking in the emotions ripping through his eyes,
and the crushing hold he had on her. Resisting the urge to flinch, she held her
breath.

“Why?” he said, his jaw tightening even more. “Why?” Her hand shook,
and his gaze dropped to their joining, loosening his grip. “Lapierre can have
any woman he wants, but he had to pick you, didn’t he? Why aren’t you gone,
vanished into the mystical archipelago of spiraling cedars and the great West
Coast.” Thane dropped his glass with a thud, the liquid slopping over the rim.

“You’re no different than him,” she said quietly.

“You were supposed to love me.” His eyes closed, and he kept them
closed for a long minute. When he opened them, tears magnified the brilliant
blue.

With all her might, she steadied her will. The resistance flowed like
acid in her chest. “You told me not to, Captain.”

Thane blinked, and shook his head. He snatched his glass up, swallowing
the whiskey in one gulp, and slamming the glass on the table. “Guess I did, and
like a good little warrior, you obeyed.” He laughed, but it sounded caustic as hell.
“I need good men like you on my team. You resist pain. You follow protocol. You’ve
got balls of steel. Couldn’t ask for a more solid recruit.” He glared at her. “Yet,
I’ve never been let down so badly. That’s what happens when you put all your
hope into one person, isn’t it, Kayla? That’s what happens when anyone puts
their hope in you.”

She placed the glass down on the table. “Yes, sir.”

“God, you are just so unbreakable, aren’t you? Nothing will ever
penetrate the shield you raised to protect yourself.” He swayed a little, and
clutched the arm of the lounger. “I can break any man, but you won’t give a
fucking inch. A fight to the finish, to the death, that’s what you want, isn’t
it? You’re just going to give your life away, either to the Shark or Lapierre.”
With one smooth swing, he lay back in the lounger, and swept his gaze across
the sky. “Why are you here, Kayla?”

Biting her bottom lip, unsure if he’d remember or even care what she
said, she needed to try. This powerful man had protected her. He’d wormed his
way into her heart, breaking down the walls she’d carefully erected over the
last ten years. “Sir, I—”

“Stop calling me, sir, for fuck’s sake. I think we’re a little past
that, don’t you?”

“Captain—”

“I hate that too, and you know it, but you do it to throw up
barricades between us. Listen…” He swiped at his jaw roughly. “I think you
should get that beautiful ass up outta my chair and outta my life. Let Lapierre
take you home. Forget about this place.” He choked on his words, and his eyes
squinted. “Move on to your happily ever after, Kayla. You’ll never find it with
me.”

She couldn’t stand it anymore, and leaped across the small space
straddling his hips. “Stop it. You are such a stupid man,” she yelled at him.
Grasping his bare shoulders with shaking fingers, she squeezed. He didn’t touch
her, but his eyes delivered a deathblow.

“Yes, I am. Stupid to think I could have you. Insane enough to believe
that you were the one woman I could care about, could trust. I am never going to
be what you need. I’m a warrior first, combat always, and there’s no way to
separate the man anymore. I tried. I tried for you.”

“Captain?” A silky voice called from behind them.

Kayla’s insides froze with a layer of ice coating her heart, and then it
shattered.

“You called and said you wanted to see me,” Carrie, their admin
assistant said.

The sexual confidence rang like a death toll in her soul. She clamped
her eyes tightly closed to stop the swarm of pain from showing itself. Knowing
full well why Thane called Miss Sweater-too-tight made her bundle up
acceptance, rejection and loss into a tight ball. She began to pull away, but
Thane’s hand gripped her.

His jaw hardened to the point his bones jutted in brittle angles. “Kayla,
you wanted this. Not me,” he whispered.

A tremble turned into a full-on quake in her limbs. They gazed at each
other, and he became blurry as the tears gathered. “I came to tell you—Greg
lied to you. I never said I would marry him.” Her lips quivered. Choking back a
sob, she tore herself from his grasp, and left him with Carrie.

* * * *

She crashed through
Mace’s front door, and headed straight for her bedroom.

“Kayla, what the hell’s
wrong? Where the hell have you been?” Mace said, lying down beside her on the
bed, placing a warm palm on her back.

She couldn’t talk, she
could only sob into the sheets. The grief burned her to ash. There was no one
else to blame but herself. She saw Thane and Carrie clearly in her mind. He was
probably already deep inside her. A familiar darkness descended, and she didn’t
fight it.

The
smell in the room changed, instead of aftershave and a sea breeze, the scent of
pine made her look up to see Daniel. She balanced a Christmas decoration with
intricate snowflakes embossed on its face, in her palm.

“Who’s
this from?” Daniel asked, opening a card he plucked from the mantel. He read it
quickly, and his gaze shot to her. “Greg. How—sentimental.” With a flick of his
wrist, it landed in the fireplace. The flames, sensing food, curled around the
logs, and licked at the edges. She watched as the cardboard curled into itself
with no defense against its aggressor, and her heart did the same.

“He
called and said he’d be here in an hour, the turkey’s almost done,” she said
calmly, hanging the last decoration on the tree. Daniel’s body was like a
weapon. The danger wasn’t in his strength, but in his anger. Silky black hair
hung across his brow, accentuating light green eyes, accusing her of things
that weren’t true.

“How
many times was he here when I was deployed?”

She
took a step back, and brushed the limbs of the tree, sending a ball rolling
across the carpet. “He’s family, Daniel. Your brother.”

“My
brother is infatuated with my wife.”

She
eased her tone, seeing rage flickering in his eyes. “Daniel, its Christmas eve.
Don’t do this.” Fear eclipsed her as he dug his fingers into her arm.

“How
many times was he here, Kayla? How many times did he lie in our bed?”

“Never.”
She wrenched her arm to free herself. “Daniel, you’re hurting me.”

“You
don’t think betrayal hurts me?” he yelled at her.

“I’ve
never betrayed you, even though you’ve accused me over and over again. Why
won’t you believe me?”

A
car outside backfired, reminding her of a gunshot. When she swung her head
toward the sound, Daniel’s hands wrapped around her throat. His body rammed
against hers, and sent them sprawling into the tree. The decorations splintered
under their weight, and pierced her skin.

“Daniel,
stop!”

His
fingers squeezed her throat, and he shook her like a dog shakes its quarry.
Daniel’s fist crashed into her cheek. The room faded to gray. She had to fight.

“Daniel,”
she cried his name loudly. He wasn’t in the room with her, but somewhere in the
theater fighting the enemy. She was the enemy. She gasped for breath as a
forceful blow connected with her ribs, making her curl inward to protect
herself. The knife she’d used for opening the new decorations lay on the floor.
They both saw it at the same time.

“No,
Daniel, please, it’s me!”

He
whisked it into his hand.

“You
motherfucker,” Daniel cried out.

She
scrambled to get away, the broken rib grated on its ends, shooting pain to
every extremity. Daniel pushed her down, his knee digging into her back, and
then the knife came down. Slicing through her flesh, searing pain vaulted a
scream from her lungs. Again it came down, again, and again.

Sound
prodded her like a finger pokes ruthlessly at something it doesn’t really want
to touch. She tried to open her eyes, but she couldn’t, pummeled shut by fists
of rage and despair. Warm blood pooled in the arch of her back, and slid down
her sides. She heard the whoosh of the furnace, and sunk her nails into the
carpet. Someone was crying in the room. Someone else was calling her name.
Sirens wailed close by.