Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: To Honor and To Protect\Cornered\Untraceable (10 page)

Andy idolized Drew already. Other than her fear of him promising things he couldn't deliver, she couldn't fault a single thing about how Drew interacted with their son. But she felt obligated to proceed with caution. It was up to her to protect Andy from the potential pain of losing his father again.

Drew might be her only ally right now, but there was no guarantee he'd stick around in the backwater of the bayous until the threats against her were completely neutralized. She'd blown the whistle on Craig, and he'd escaped custody once, confirming her worst fear. She didn't think he'd ever find her if she stayed off the grid out here, but she had to think of Andy's future.

“Mom, come look!” Her son raced up the bank, skidding to a stop beside her rickety chair. Grabbing her hand, he started to tug her to her feet. “Come on. We got a bite!”

“Way to go,” she said. “You'd better help reel him in.”

Andy stopped midstride, giving her a puzzled expression. “How do you know it's a boy fish?”

“Just an expression, honey,” she said, waving him back down to the water's edge. If Drew wanted to step into dad shoes, she'd be happy to let him start with this topic. “Go check with Drew.”

“Is it a boy fish?” Andy asked as Drew showed him the catch.

“This one is too young to tell,” Drew said. He showed Andy how to remove the hook without hurting the fish. “I'm not sure fish care much about being boys or girls,” he added, placing the fish in Andy's eager hands. “Be gentle,” he instructed. “Toss him—it—back in.”

“But fish have babies.”

“Uh-huh,” Drew replied warily.

Addison smiled, wondering how he liked parenting now.

“There has to be a boy and a girl to make babies,” Andy declared, looking at each of them in turn. “We learned it in science.” He held the squirming fish, looking it over from gills to tail. “Everything that makes babies has a boy and a girl.”

“Well, this one is too small either way,” Drew said. “Maybe we'll catch him—or her—again when he—or she—is older and we can tell for sure. But not if you don't put it back in the water.”

Andy crouched, pushing his hands under and releasing the fish to streak away. “It's fast!”

“Being fast is the only way it'll survive to be a big fish,” Drew said.

“Yeah,” Andy agreed. He watched the water, his sandals squishing into the soft ground of the bank. “Can we swim?”

“Only if you're done fishing,” Drew replied.

“Will we catch anything real big?”

“Not if we go swimming.”

“Huh.”

Addison took advantage of her son's need to process the options. “I'm going back to check on the sun tea I started.” It was the best excuse to make a graceful exit. “If you catch something for dinner, let me know.”

“Hey, Addi?” Drew's voice followed her up the bank. “Can you cook gator tail?”

“Please. If you catch it, I'll cook it,” she tossed back over her shoulder before she could stop herself. What was she doing flirting with him? They'd had a similar exchange during their first long weekend together after they'd met. It seemed Andy wasn't the only one all too ready to include Drew in their lives.

Determined to keep her distance and a firm hold on logic, she hurried back to the cabin, hoping he'd forgotten what she hadn't. As expected, the sun tea didn't need any attention. The water was turning a deep golden color as it brewed in the sunshine. When she spoke with Nico next time, she'd ask for some fresh lemons for lemonade. Andy would enjoy everything about that, including helping her make it.

She pushed her hands through her hair, lifting the heavy mass off her neck, letting the air cool her skin. With Andy well out of earshot, she found the radio and dialed in a news station, hoping to hear that Craig had been found and was back in federal custody. Would she feel safe enough to go back to civilization then? The answer wasn't clear. She suspected Craig had been dragged into this terrible operation by someone else, but she didn't have solid evidence to support the theory.

She changed the station, listened to a few reports on other situations, but hearing nothing helpful, she turned it off. What the hell had she been thinking? For the moment it was a grand summer adventure to wander the bayous, but that glow would fade soon enough. Andy would want to return to his friends and school. He'd want to play soccer and make sure she made good on her promise to let him try baseball.

Turning in Craig had been the only option, but she'd sure screwed up every aspect of her life in the process. Not to mention Andy's. The plan she'd been so sure about seemed increasingly rash with the hindsight of each new day. Hiding in a swamp didn't provide Andy with the social life and academic challenges he needed. How could she hope to manage indefinitely with nothing more than the barest essentials? He was growing up. He needed the structure and opportunities she'd originally put in place for him.

Maybe Drew was right. Maybe she should let him take her to this Casey person and ask for official protection. If she had someone to watch Andy... Taking a deep breath, she forced herself away from that fatalistic thinking. She was getting ahead of herself. There were weeks left of summer. Plenty of time for the authorities to unravel the material she'd provided about Craig's activities and make the world safe for her and her son again.

She'd created one hell of a mess and instead of resisting and resenting the one man who'd shown up to help her, she should show some gratitude. Assuming there wouldn't be fish, or gator, she opened the stocked cabinet and considered how to turn the supplies on hand into a dinner that would satisfy two big appetites.

Chapter Eleven

It didn't seem possible, but the mixed feelings followed Drew through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Getting to know his son, even if Andy didn't understand the real relationship yet, had been astounding. The kid wanted to know everything about everything. With every question, Drew fell a little more in love with Andy.

He thought the opposite might also be true, but he didn't dare ask Addi to confirm it. While he was trying to be respectful of her concerns and boundaries, he was eager for Andy to know the truth. Hell, he was an adult and he still ached knowing his dad was gone. From his perspective, it could only be a good thing for all of them if Andy knew he had a real father.

As she started nudging Andy through the bedtime routine, Drew offered to take care of the reading time.

She scowled. “Don't you have to check the perimeter or something?”

“I can read first,” he pointed out.

She didn't look impressed by his suggestion, but Andy begged, adding big puppy-dog eyes to the drawn-out “please.” Drew wasn't sure which of them was happier when she gave in.

“Just the comics,” she said, shooting Andy a don't-mess-with-mom look where he waited on the bed.

It was impossible to mistake her meaning, and Drew fought the urge to argue. “Just the comics,” he agreed. “Tonight.”

He couldn't figure out why Addi was avoiding such an important conversation. Sure, Andy would have questions, but he'd also have two parents at his disposal to provide answers. She'd lost her own parents during college, a year or so before they'd met. She had firsthand experience with the gaping emptiness of losing a parent. Why couldn't she see her way clear to give her son a dad?

But she had almost done just that by nearly marrying Everett. She'd turned the bastard in, but Drew wondered how much she'd loved him.

“Turn the page,” Andy prompted.

“Oh, right.”

“I can wait if you're still looking at the pictures.”

Drew had no idea what had happened to the story line. He quickly skimmed the panels. “No, I'm done.”

“Okay.” Andy didn't sound very convinced, but he turned the page and kept reading. “Do the sound effects,” he said. “Please.”

Drew complied, embracing the role with the same gusto his dad had used when Drew was a kid. He nearly burst with pride when Andy gave him a big thumbs-up when they finished. “Take it out to Mom, please? She'll want to know how it ends.”

“You got it.” Drew tucked Andy into his sleeping bag on top of the mattress. “We'll be just outside if you need us.”

“'Kay,” Andy said, yawning.

Drew turned out the light and eased the door closed as he stepped out onto the porch. He'd expected to see Addi, but the space was empty in both directions. For a moment, Drew panicked that she had been found and kidnapped.

“I'm over here.” Her voice drifted up from the stairway.

He walked over, settled on the other end of the wide step and peered up at the sky. “Not the best place for stargazing.” The view was blocked by the tall trees on this side of the cabin. He waited, but she didn't seem inclined to converse. In fact, she'd been a little too quiet all night long. “Dinner was excellent. Thank you.”

“So you said. Again, you're welcome.”

He searched for another neutral topic, but the only thing he wanted to discuss was being honest with Andy or getting more details about her situation with Everett. “Was Andy born in Mississippi or California?”

She turned her head, giving him an expression he couldn't decipher. “Does it matter?”

“Not really. Did you, um, think about using my name on the birth certificate?”

Shaking her hair back from her face, she looked up at the treetops. “It should be a pretty moon tonight.”

“Addi, come on. I have a right to know.”

“I'm not ready for this, Drew. Not tonight.”

“When?”

She blew out a sigh, clearly annoyed with him. “Just not tonight.”

“You said—”

“You'll get your answers,” she muttered. “Can we just enjoy the quiet for a while?”

In the past he'd had no problem sharing silences with her. Now, though, he could hear the clock ticking. Chalk it up to all his unexpected and unpleasant experiences, but he no longer counted on having time beyond the present moment. If she didn't want to talk, that was fine. But she could sure as hell listen.

“It was a three-quarter moon on our wedding day,” he began. “I told myself I'd be back in the States making love to you by the full moon.”

She didn't make a sound.

“No one ever explained to me how the mission was compromised,” he said. “Could've been anything from intel to weather. Sometimes the people who claim to know guess wrong about who is working for which side over there.”

“Over where?”

“The mission was Afghanistan. The prison camp was more like the fifth dimension of hell.”

In the faint light bleeding through the doorway, he saw her catch her lower lip between her teeth. He wanted to kiss her, to soothe that spot with his lips. Imagining a negative reaction, he pulled his gaze away, focusing on the trees on the other side of the fire ring. It was a much safer view. For both of them.

“We went in as a team,” he said, picking it apart one more time. Every time he went through those hours, he hoped to find an explanation. Maybe this time, telling her, would finally give him the insight. “A simple, straightforward grab-and-go kind of thing. We were ambushed on the way out. Our target got killed in the cross fire and two of us were hauled away to stand trial.”

“By what authority?”

Of course the legal ramifications cut through her stoicism. He couldn't help laughing a little. “You know, at the time, I heard you say that very same thing in my head.”

“You don't have to do this.”

She said it softly, in a way that indicated she thought it would be painful for him. He bumped her knee with his. “Maybe I need to.”

Her gaze rested on the place where their knees touched, and he assumed her silence was consent. Slowly, he cracked the lock on the door where he stored those awful memories, letting them out one at a time.

“The trial was a joke, obviously. They recorded me standing there in chains, listening to a long list of things I didn't do, spoken in a language I could hardly follow. Then they handed down whatever sentence fit their mood on that day.”

“The army told us you were killed in action.”

He wondered when and what she'd been told. “I'm sure the real story was buried under security clearances. I learned later that they staged my execution and sent my dog tags and the videos back to the army. It gave them free rein to do whatever they wanted with me after that.”

Her shoulders slumped and her fingers toyed with the charms on her necklace.

He told himself she needed to know, needed to be aware that he could crack under the wrong pressure. Sure, he'd convinced himself, and her, that he could be her bodyguard, but there were chinks in the armor. The army had seen it first, forcing him into retirement. As much as he wanted to get Addi into Casey's protection, he recognized now that she was safer out here in the murky places of her past. A man like Everett didn't understand the nature or culture in the bayous. If Drew cracked out here, Addi and their son might still survive. Same went for a leak in the government that even Casey might not see coming.

“Emotionally it couldn't have been much different than what you probably went through.” Only the night insects answered him. “You know, like the five stages of grief.”

“I know them,” she bit out.

“Right. So I was in denial that the capture was serious,” he admitted. “Sure, it was obvious I was in trouble, but I didn't believe it would last. As a United States soldier I was sure someone would track me down and pull me out.”

She slid those charms across the fine gold chain.

“Denial lasted me a good couple of weeks. I was trained to be patient, to look for the right opening. I knew they wouldn't leave me out there without good reason. So I did what I could to gather useful intel.

“My captors ignored me at first. They weren't what you'd call hospitable, but they didn't do anything obnoxious. I kept my mind on you. More denial, I suppose. In my head I was with you every day, imagining the perfect apology so you couldn't resist me.”

“I'm sure I would've caved instantly, whatever you'd planned,” she confessed.

Progress! Instead of a fist pump, he rubbed the scars on his knuckles. “They marched me across the mountains for a week, and while I was sure they'd taken another soldier that night, I never saw him. When we reached their camp, when I saw it was a prison, I went full-tilt pissed off. That held me for months, the anger during the day and dreaming about coming back to you at night. It even held me up when the torture started, but it wasn't long before I was bargaining.”

Her face turned and the pale moonlight caressed her cheek. He wanted to touch, to feel the softness of her skin under his fingers, but he resisted. “I didn't bargain with them, just God, the army, the universe. We're trained for that crap, you know.”

She shifted closer, by intent or reflex he didn't care. Their bodies brushed at shoulder and thigh and inside he rejoiced at her unspoken support.

“Movies and books tell you the reality is worse than the training. And everyone thinks they know how they'll deal with it. But until you're in it, you don't know there's something beyond the pain or the humiliation when your body gives in,” he said. “The worst part is not knowing where the end of the line is.”

She gave a little gasp but didn't interrupt him.

“It's impossible to underestimate the value of knowing there's a time limit for any given activity. June has thirty days and then July begins. If you hate June, you know there's an end, right?”

“Right,” she whispered.

“There was none of that. It's all an untenable, unending hell. The food barely met the definition, and a body reacts before it adjusts.” He laughed. “In the early days I complimented the food, saying it tasted like pork chops just to piss them off, to prove they couldn't break me.”

“But they tried.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.”

“Of course they tried,” he agreed. “That was their job. Mine was to heal up and stay alive. They thought I had some valuable information about military installations, in their country or ours, I'm not sure. I heard them torturing other prisoners about the same stuff, but I didn't hear anyone give up anything you couldn't find on the internet.”

“Impressive.”

He snorted. “I suppose. I just don't think that crew understood the layers of protocol and firepower they'd face if they attacked.”
Thank God,
he thought. “Every damn day that I could think clearly enough I bargained with the mud and air and the rats in my cell,” he continued. “Just for it all to end. The shrinks say the depression gets mixed in, that the stages cycle through and repeat or something like that.”

“Yeah, I heard the same thing.”

Somehow, knowing she'd grieved, knowing she hadn't just left their wedding day relieved to be free of him made him feel better. Stupid, but true. “Acceptance,” he said on a sigh. “I can't really pinpoint when that kicked in. Had to be after the first year. But accepting the situation gave me more days when I looked for a way out. In the cells we developed allies, identified the human rats planted to erode our flagging morale or to get information we wouldn't admit during the interrogations.”

“Drew.”

“That's existing as a POW.” He knew she was fuming and it made him admit the rest. “Eventually you find a way out. It took me nearly six years before I finally managed to escape, but I was the only American that day. The only good news was, surviving the elements felt like a cakewalk after torture and interrogation.”

* * *

“O
H
, D
REW
.”
A
DDISON
swallowed, grateful he hadn't gone into more detail about what he'd endured. The few scars she'd noticed on his hands and just under his collarbone were surely just a tiny preview. He was leaner than he'd been, and she suddenly wondered how long it had taken him to get back to this point. Six years of horrendous conditions compounded by nothing but pain and loss when he returned home. She couldn't imagine it. Admiration for his fortitude had her wishing she could ease just a small piece of his burden. “I'm so sorry.” She covered his hands with hers, leaned in just a little more.

“You don't owe me an apology.” He brushed his lips across her temple.

Countless times in his absence she'd missed that touch, that tender move that made her feel so cherished. She'd wished a thousand times that he'd walk back into her life, and now that he had done so, she'd made him feel unwelcome.

“How long have you been in the States?” She stroked her thumb across the back of his hand. Feeling the hard ridges of scars, she nearly wept for how he must've earned them.

“Two years give or take. I've spent most of that time in hospitals and rehab facilities.”

“They should have called me.” She gazed into his eyes, but his expression was hard to read in the night shadows. “
You
should have called me.”

“I couldn't,” he said, his gaze drifting to her lips. “I—I was too broken. You wouldn't have wanted to see me like that.”

“Impossible.” She shook her head. If he'd called, if she'd known, she would've been by his bedside in an instant, been with him through every step of his recovery.

“Even now, Addi—”

She silenced him with a kiss. A gentle, sweet touch of her lips against his. Barely more than a whisper, but she felt desire sizzle through her bloodstream.