Make Mine a Marine (5 page)

“You were so young. You must have been terrified.”

She had been. Through a child's viewpoint, the machines were alien creatures that gave her nightmares. The adults in white lab coats were witches and warlocks who trapped her in sterile-walled torture chambers from which she couldn't escape. Needles pricked her. Electrodes stung her. Questions hounded her.

“One doctor finally thought to give me an IQ test. I was off the scale for a six-year-old. Then the testing really began. They wanted to find out just how smart I really was.” BJ slipped back to those terrifying months, reliving the fear and loneliness. “Once, they locked me in a room and gave me math problems to solve. They tied my hands together so I couldn't use them to count. They wanted to get an accurate measure of how complex a problem I could do in my head.”

She shuddered as the memory became real to her. No longer a twenty-seven year old woman, she regressed into a confused child who felt imprisoned and abandoned and frightened for her life. “I got every answer right. But they said I cheated. They strapped me down every morning until I finally figured out that if I gave a couple of wrong answers, they'd let me go.”

The brush of something soft and solid against her cheek pulled BJ back to the present. The smell of worn leather tickled her nose. Warmth surrounded her. She didn't know how much she had actually said out loud, but she shook with tears that burned her eyes and paralyzed her throat.

She hadn't cried like this since she was a girl. Not since she buried Jake. She'd shared her sorrows with Jas and Emma, and confessed troubling problems to her mentor, Damon Morrisey. But she'd never wept like this. She'd never bared her soul. She never thought anyone could understand.

No one had until Brodie cradled her in his lap, and wound his sheltering, titanic arms around her. His long fingers smoothed the fringe of curls at her nape while he murmured deep voiced nothings against her hair.

BJ burrowed into his ample chest, finding solace and security in his immeasurable strength. Finding comfort and peace in his gruff, rumbling voice. She discovered a kinship in his strong arms. He was an ally who truly understood her darkest fears.

She didn't want to leave the haven she found unexpectedly in Brodie's arms. He made her feel safe. His size and warmth and awkward gentleness formed a barrier against both the dangers of the present and the demons of the past.

“I suppose they could have put me into a public school program for the gifted,” she finally continued. “But the doctors recommended to Jake that I stay with them. I started with tutors for a couple of years, but when they found out how quickly I assimilated information, they enrolled me in college courses.  Talk about a freak. My classmates thought I was some kind of joke, an eight-year-old in a freshman algebra class. They stopped laughing when they found out how high I raised the grading curve.”

Brodie's arms tightened around her. “Didn't Jake know what you were going through?”

“Yes. But what could he do? He was a single parent who had no understanding of little girls and no idea what to do with a genius child. When he visited, he took me to ball games and showed me how to build model airplanes.”

Her story indirectly explained the mess in her house, the tomboyish clothes she wore. She'd never had a childhood. So she had created one for herself as an adult. She had been a lonely little girl surrounded by people who treated her as an object, a phenomenon, not as a person.

She knew Brodie understood.

Her fingers tightened their grip on his jacket. He'd push her away soon, but for now she clung to him, seeking the strength to finish. “Jake was the only person who treated me like a child. To everyone else, I was a case study. A scientific experiment.”

“A lab rat,” Brodie concluded.

“When I was older, I went through some counseling. You can imagine how I handled their probing into my life. Damon was a huge help. When he took me on as his protégée, he gave me a purpose. He helped me discover ways to use my talents. I thought I had put all of those old fears to rest. Until now.”

She tipped her head back, needing to see Brodie's expression, needing to know he didn't judge her as some kind of freak.

She caught a glimpse of something wild and fiery before the gray eyes shuttered. “Now?” he prompted.

BJ didn't question his reaction. Anger and mystery seemed to be a big part of who he was. “They're playing with my head again. All those years as a child I thought someone wanted to take over who I was, wanted to control me. I felt as if they wanted to cut open my head and take my brain for themselves. Now it's happening all over again. I feel like I'm that scared little girl.”

Brodie folded his calloused palm around her chin, capturing her in a grip somewhere between reprimand and comfort. “You're not that little girl anymore. You're a grown woman. And this time there's somebody on your side.”

He touched his lips to hers, blotting out the power behind his guttural promise. His kiss was hard, hot, and over before BJ could respond.

With abrupt force, he lifted her off his lap and plopped her on the cushion beside him.

“Brodie?” Her lips burned from the incendiary contact. His brief caress kindled the spirit within her, bringing her to her feet a second behind him. “I just wanted to explain…”

“I need to check the grounds outside.” He strode to the door, forcing her into double time to catch up to him. When she touched his arm, he pulled away from her and looked down at her with such fury that she wondered if she had dreamed his tenderness and concern.

The hinges hung on for dear life when he swung the door open. “What's the security code?”

“No way.”

“I have to know your damn security codes!”

She recoiled to a safer distance. “N-O-W-A-Y. The numerical equivalent.”

He didn't comment on how clever or ridiculous her password sounded, or apologize for his outburst or that kiss.  He was beyond civil conversation. “Lock it behind me. If you need me, yell. I'll be here.”

The door slammed shut on his promise, leaving BJ in the fallout of Hurricane Brodie. She hugged herself protectively and licked her lips, tasting salty tears and something more. Something he had stamped there. She wasn't the only one surprised by that kiss. Brodie's abrupt departure confirmed it.

BJ rubbed her arms and headed to her office. The male of the species was one subject she hadn't aced. She didn't presume to comprehend this one.

She sat down and turned on the monitor. Computers she understood. They never called her eccentric or judged that she was too successful.

Today she had sought security and acceptance from Brodie, a man who very clearly liked to keep his distance, a professional who didn't like to get personally involved. With the episode at the office and the confessions here at home, she had probably invaded every bit of personal space that Brodie guarded.

No wonder he'd left so suddenly. By choice a recluse, Brodie had reluctantly come out of hiding only to repay a debt he felt he owed a friend. She didn't doubt he had gone outside in order to escape her company, to be alone again to recover his icy composure.

She should honor his need for privacy. She should keep her distance for her own sake as well as his. But a part of her couldn't help wishing that the fire would return to his eyes. And that for a few moments out of time, he would drive away the demons that haunted her mind, and make her feel the way no man except her father had.

Normal.

The stars rode high above a churning bank of clouds. The still heat hit him like a wall. Thunder rolled in the distance. Static lightning charged the sky, like torches blinking on and being snuffed out. The scent of rain told him the downpour would reach here any minute.

The violence matched his mood.

Brodie ran into the darkness, pushing his body to its top speed. He ran until he felt alone and swallowed up by the swirling night.

Then he braced his feet, tipped his head back and howled his endless rage at the coming storm. Somewhere in the distance, Duke barked. In that moment, Brodie hated the little dog. He hated him for seeing what BJ could not.

That Brodie Maxwell was a freak. That he was a monster inside and out.

Brodie dropped to his knees, conceding a begrudging bit of respect for the dog. Duke did everything in his power to protect his mistress. But the fiercest dragon in the world couldn't protect anyone from Brodie. Once the cycle had started, their doom would be inevitable.

And the cycle
had
started. Damn it all, he’d kissed her!

He hurt for her. He went to her and gathered her in his arms when her memories grew too difficult for her to bear. Could there be anything more dangerous than caring for a woman? The injustices of her childhood churned the anger inside him. It was his nature to protect, and she had been so vulnerable.

Thunder cracked and the moon vanished behind the clouds. He tilted his face to the heavens that had forgotten him and waited for the cold rain to pelt his skin.

BJ looked at him as if he were a man, not an object. She expected decent, normal behavior from him. She stood up to the monster, yet turned to the man for comfort.

The rain hit his forehead and ran into the crevices of his cheek. Lightning forked to the ground in the distance. He should seek the heart of the storm and let the next bolt strike him. But that wouldn't help BJ. Nothing could help her now.

For what seemed a lifetime, he had managed to keep the danger at bay. But somehow, on this day, he had slipped. Irrevocably and unforgivably. He sealed BJ's fate just as surely as the criminal who stole her thoughts and ideas.

Because Brodie had started to care.

Thunder echoed in the distance by the time Brodie finished circling the grounds surrounding the house. Wet jeans plastered his legs, and his shirt collar clung like a clammy second skin beneath his water-stained jacket. He had walked the duration of the storm, become one with the elements until he could push everything out of his head except his sense of duty.

As Brodie neared the house, the mantle of warrior awareness slipped over his shoulders. Forget today, he chided himself. Tomorrow's investigation would be more insightful. Sassy women with tell-all eyes would not affect his ability to ferret out the truth.

But when Brodie stepped onto the porch, his cool detachment evaporated. Something was wrong. His scalp tingled in anticipation, his radar sensing danger before he saw it. The interior lights were out and the door stood ajar. Could a power failure have tripped the security system? He thought BJ had mentioned a backup generator.

Slipping into the shadows against the house, Brodie reached behind him and pulled a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt. He rolled the leather handle until it fit snugly in his hand and became a lethal extension of his own body.

He slid along the siding to the door frame, nudging the door with his boot. In one smooth motion, he swung the door open and dropped to the floor inside. He crouched low behind the furniture, keeping his eyes open for anything, straining his ears to hear some sign of BJ.

He heard crunching and scratching through the kitchen. The damn guard poodle was eating a midnight snack.

With an ugly sigh, he rolled to his feet. BJ probably was sound asleep in her room. The open door was probably just a fluke. Still, his instincts had carried him through many battles. He wasn't ready to discount their warning signal just yet.

His boots squeaked with dampness as he systematically checked the rooms. He found everything dark and silent until he reached the far wing of the house.

A pulsing light flickered through an open doorway at the end of the hall. He crept closer and looked inside.

BJ's office.

The only light in the room came from the computer monitor on the desk in one corner. Gray illumination flickered from rows and rows of data scrolling across the screen. A second desk with another computer setup lined the opposite wall. In between were scattered stacks of drawings and printouts, a battered recliner, and a trail of discarded clothing.

“I've been waiting for you.”

Brodie whipped his head around as a shadowy figure emerged from the corner. The husky honey drawl belonged to a woman who looked like BJ, yet didn't.

“You should be asleep. Are you all right?” He sheathed his knife without taking his eyes off her.

“I am now.”

The differences in her appearance became apparent as she sauntered toward him. She had removed her jeans, socks, and shoes. She still wore the baseball jersey, but looked nothing like an innocent kid in it now. The hem fell to a tantalizing line near the top of her thighs where the curve of her hips began. She had unbuttoned the top to a point halfway down her cleavage. One side fell open, revealing the swell of a breast.

Brodie's gut clenched inside him. She wasn't wearing a bra. In fact, he could pretty well guess that she wasn't wearing much of anything beneath that clingy, unexpectedly sexy jersey.

He didn't need this. “BJ, what's going on?”

Cotton rustled as her hips swayed beneath the fabric.

“Did something happen?” His eyes narrowed questioningly, then accusingly as she pressed herself against him.