Make Mine a Marine (7 page)

BJ turned willingly and buried her face in his jacket. She breathed in shallow, erratic gasps. She shuddered violently against him, dry-eyed and totally lost. But just when she felt his blessed arms close around her shoulders, she shoved herself away from him. She didn't need to escape into his comfort right now, she needed to think clearly. If only her brain would cooperate.

“It's playing games with me.”

“What is?” Brodie remained cool and unruffled by her bizarre behavior.

“The computer!” She gestured wildly at the broken machine. “I know I input new information on that thing tonight. But there's nothing there. No file. No dumpsite. Nothing. I even gerry-rigged the damned thing to record any use or transmission that doesn't show up in the server log.”

“Speak English, Beej.”

She shook her head exasperatedly. “I know I worked on the computer tonight. I installed a device to record every time that machine goes on or sends or receives any message. But there's nothing. That machine says nothing happened.”

“There were words on the screen when I first came in.”

“Yeah?” His throaty reminder gave her a threadbare spark of hope.

He nodded.  “On the surviving computer.”

BJ clutched her arms tightly over her stomach, tucking the long ends of Brodie's sleeves underneath and binding her in a mock straitjacket. She almost laughed at the symbolism. Yet, something about the external control calmed her. It released her mind from its frenetic activity.

“At least that proves I'm not totally nuts. You actually saw the computer working. I didn't imagine that.”

“You said you were playing a game.”

“Yes, but it was more than that. I think.” A dull ache rimmed her skull, constricting her ability to reason clearly. “I don't know. There's something more. But I can't remember.”

She squeezed her thumb and forefinger together. “I'm that close, but I can't figure it out.”

“BJ, you're exhausted. Give your brain a rest.”

“Damon says my brain never shuts down.” If only it would. Then she might know some peace.

“This ex-boss of yours doesn't know everything.” She smelled the damp leather of Brodie's jacket and knew he had moved closer. She felt his hands beneath her elbows, guiding her to his side. She sagged against him, grateful for his strength, never questioning why she trusted him so completely.

He walked with her into the hallway, his arms supporting her more than her own legs. She went with him willingly, not sure of their destination, but happy to see him turn into her bedroom. He kept an arm around her waist while he turned back the quilt, flipping her menagerie of stuffed animals onto the floor.

He turned her and sat her on the bed. Then he lifted her feet and laid her down gently, tucking the top sheet and quilt snugly under her chin.

“Do you want some aspirin?”

BJ felt too tired to sit up and swallow. “Could you let Duke in? He likes to sleep with me.”

Brodie looked uneasily out the door. She remembered the dog's reaction to him. At least that was clear. She laid her hand over his, keeping him from leaving her side. “Never mind. I forgot how he growled at you. He'll be okay tonight.”

Brodie surprised her by sitting on the edge of the bed. His long, blunt fingers tenderly smoothed the curls off her forehead. “I'll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

BJ nestled into her pillow, the feeling reminiscent of her earliest memories with Jake. Brodie gave her the same secure, protected feeling. But with something more. Through the fog of encroaching sleep, she looked up at him.

Beyond the frown, beyond the scars, she saw a determinedly gentle man. He bore the marks of incredible torture and suffering, yet he never let the hell he must have endured hurt her. She suspected that he had killed before. Yet she didn't believe that he would ever harm her.

She tightened her hand around his, feeling small and delicate and inadequate next to him. “Brodie?”

“Hmm?”

“What did I do? When I was out to lunch earlier?”

“During the trance?” She nodded. Her eyelids grew heavy, but she concentrated her hearing on his deep, halting words.

“You were concerned about me catching cold after being out in the storm.”

“There was more,” she murmured sleepily. “You, um, offered me the shirt off your back.”

“You're a sexy woman, BJ. Full of unexpected surprises that may drive me crazy.”

“I didn't embarrass you, did I?” The muscles in her eyelids stopped working.

“No, sweetheart.  You can’t embarrass me.”

The mattress creaked and something warm brushed across her cheek. A kiss? Or a dream? “Go to sleep.”

BJ nodded obediently, then turned on her side and curled into a ball. Brodie had given her a gentlemanly, watered-down version of tonight's episode, she was sure. She recalled something about bare skin and searing heat. And had he called her sexy? And sweetheart?

Gray mist filled her head, muddying her disjointed thoughts. The image of a lightning bolt blipped into her dreams. Poor Brodie. That hideous brand on his chest. A twisting scar of puckered skin that cut a track through the soft, dark mat of hair.

Or was it silver and black? An image forged in metal.

BJ's foggy brain tried to latch on to the picture.

Nothing. It's nothing, Bridget.

“It's nothing.” Drowsy lips repeated the words. The picture vanished. Sleep won.

Chapter Four

“I said you didn't need to wear a tie. We may call it a ball, but tonight is strictly casual.”

Brodie adjusted his collar for the sixth time in nearly as many minutes. “I'm here as a security consultant, not a guest.”

BJ smiled up at him and shook her head. “Even our regular security guards don't wear a tie with their uniforms.”

“I'm not regular security.”

She shrugged her shoulders, giving up the argument. Or so he thought. “You could lose the tie, but keep your shirt buttoned to the collar. You'd be in style and you could still hide the scars on your neck.”

“The scars?” Brodie sighed raggedly, not sure if he should be ticked off that she’d pointed out his disfigurements or impressed that she’d also noticed his efforts to cover them up. The woman didn't miss a trick. She possessed a sharp eye for detail, using keen insight to translate her observations into facts. No wonder she kept beating herself up trying to piece together clues to the piracy case. She could figure out almost anything else, from repairing the band's speaker, to rerouting computer lines for tonight's presentation. But her episodes still eluded her comprehension.

He kept out of the way, watching BJ, Emma, and Jasmine greet their guests. Did BJ really re-member every guest's name? She made it seem that way by drawing them into conversation and subtly extracting the information on the four or five out of two hundred whom she didn't recall.

He could almost see the brain cells ticking behind her intelligent eyes, quickly processing and retaining information. On top of a busy day at LadyTech and the trauma of last night, which she refused to discuss, she still managed to notice how awkward he felt tonight.

He did wear high collared shirts and long sleeves to cover himself when he ventured out into public. His face and size alone were enough to make most people squeamish and uncomfortable. If they could see how bad the rest of him looked, they'd be running away in droves. It was his way of protecting them—and himself from unintentional cruelty and rejection.

But BJ noticed. The notion didn't sit well. With everything going on in her head, she shouldn't be worrying about him. It was absolutely imperative to him that she didn't care about his problems. Yet a sheltered remnant of his soul warmed to the idea that maybe she did.

Today, she insisted on devoting her time and energy to LadyTech's annual open house for investors, clients, and friends. She felt obligated to prove her loyalty to LadyTech. Not that Emma or Jas doubted her for a minute, but BJ persisted in the idea that she had sold out her friends, whether consciously or not. She worked herself into a state of mental exhaustion trying to atone for the wrongs she swore she had committed.

He watched her shake hands with a portly Asian man. “Mr. Takahashi. You've recovered from your jet lag, I hope.”

“Yes, Miss Kincaid.” He returned her smile. “Jasmine's tour of your offices and adjoining warehouse and gardens was most intriguing. I look forward to the unveiling of your new program this evening.”

“I look forward to showing it off, sir.”

Jasmine, a striking, petite blonde, crooked her arm through Mr. Takahashi's. “Let me introduce you to some of our guests, Kiro.”

After Jas escorted their newest prime investor away, Emma turned to BJ. “Why don't you sneak upstairs and grab a catnap. You've been at it all day, and quite frankly, you look tired.”

“I'm okay, Em.”

In reality, BJ's sleep had been fitful. She thrashed under the covers, mumbling incoherent words. Brodie stayed with her until close to dawn, when utter fatigue finally pulled her into deeper, dreamless sleep.

“Emma's right,” he heard himself add. “Take a break and relax.”

BJ glared at him with obstinate eyes. “I have to double-check the program to make sure tonight's demonstration goes off without a hitch.”

“You've checked it once already,” argued Emma. “Besides, you'll be inundated with questions afterward. You won't get a chance to rest again until really late.”

BJ bristled defensively, ready to take on Emma, Brodie, and anybody else who tried to tell her what to do. But a yawn betrayed her. “All right,” she conceded. “But fifteen minutes, that's all. I'll be lying down in my office.”

With a harumph of resignation, she twirled around and went up the stairs. He watched her until the creamy shoulder exposed by the draped neckline of her peasant blouse winked out of sight.

Brodie felt a hand on his arm.

“What happened last night?” Emma challenged him, as though she thought him responsible for BJ's fatigue. Jonathan had often mentioned his wife's soft-spoken ways, which hid a backbone of steel and motherly preservation where her loved ones were concerned. Were all the LadyTech women this stubborn?

Brodie wondered how much of BJ's past Emma knew. Having a third party to bounce ideas off sounded like a good idea, but he didn't want to divulge any of BJ's confidences.

“She had another episode,” he said simply.

Emma's smoky blue eyes flashed with anxiety. “Was she hurt? Did you find out anything?”

He found out she was built the way a woman ought to be, curved and healthy, not pencil slim. He found out she could melt him into putty when her honey, husky voice lowered in a bewitching tone of arousal. He found out that grilling her with questions triggered abusive childhood memories for her.

He found out that the darkest moment of his life held some connection to BJ, that a scar burned into him ages ago had meaning to her, even though her conscious mind denied the connection.

I couldn't have been in my right mind to throw myself all over you like that.

Not in her right mind. BJ meant the words as an apology, but Brodie knew they were true. He had foolishly wanted her to want him, to the extent that he had abandoned all reason and common sense and practically forced her.

Not until he had seen the glazed look in her eyes did he realize the scope of the evil force manipulating her. He had been out of his mind with need for her, and she had no clue to the passion ignited between them. Even afterward, she had responded to him with the tender shyness of a first kiss. She recalled the essence of what happened, but concrete memories eluded her.

“No, I didn't find out anything useful,” he said. “Only that she's in a lot of trouble. And that I'm not sure I can help her.”

“You're not giving up, are you?”

How could he? In twenty-four little hours, BJ Kincaid had become an integral part of his life. How could he leave without knowing she'd be safe?

“No. But this case may be a little more complicated than I originally thought.”

“You won't leave her until she's okay, right?” Emma prodded him again.

Ages ago, he had taken an oath to fight the injustices of the world, and to protect the innocents harmed by those injustices. Like BJ. Even if he could control his emotional response to her, he could never quit until he eradicated the evil thing attacking her mind. His conscience wouldn't let him.

“I won't leave.”

With each promise to protect her, he came closer and closer to sealing BJ's fate. He might be able to save her.

But he could just as easily destroy her.

“Damn it, Rick, I'm not in charge of personnel. I can't make you any promises like that.”

Rick Chambers had knocked on BJ's office door within seconds after her eyes closed. She found no respite from the ache digging in at the base of her skull. And Rick's argument was getting old.

“I deserve that promotion. Nobody has worked harder to get the Tokyo office up and running.”

“I know. You put in a lot of hours on the project, and I made a recommendation. But Emma has to review all the candidates and bring her final choices to the board for a vote.”

Rick's handsome, toothy smile held no charm for her. “Then I'm one of the finalists, right?”

“I don't know.” BJ returned his smile with as much sincerity as she could muster before dropping down to her hands and knees to retrieve her sandals from beneath the desk. “Look, can we discuss this tomorrow? I want to do a final check before we run the program tonight. I'd hate for a glitch to show up with all those people watching.”

“I set it up myself. It's running fine. If you kept regular office hours, we wouldn't be having this conversation now.”

BJ rolled over onto her bottom and put on her shoes. “I recommended you, Rick. That's all I can tell you.” Hell, she'd give him the job right now if he'd just leave her alone.

By the time she had the second shoe on and had adjusted her Aztec print skirt, Rick stood over her, holding out his hand. BJ took it, expecting to be helped to her feet.

Instead, he pulled her right against his chest and pinned her there with his hand at the back of her waist. Strong cologne assaulted her nostrils, sharpening the sting of her headache.

“There are only three of you on that board. Isn't there anything I can do to persuade you? We've worked so well together for over two years now.”

He brushed his fingers over her shoulder. It could be her headache that made BJ feel nauseated, she wasn't sure. The arm around her waist wouldn't budge, so she used sarcasm as a weapon.

“Two whole years and you're just now making a pass at me? I didn't think you were the shy type.”

She felt his temper vibrate through him. Then he pushed her back against the desk, trapping her with his body. “You three are raking in big bucks. I deserve a piece of it.”

“Stop it, Rick.” His implied threat made BJ fighting mad. “I can't just give you the Tokyo job, but I can fire you.”

She tried to twist free, but Rick grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back at a sharp angle. Myriad tendrils of pain shot through her scalp. “I could be as big as you, Beeeej.” The way he slurred her name made BJ's skin crawl. “My ideas are as good as yours.”

His hot breath washed over her face, “I deserve—”

BJ felt a jerk, and then Rick went flying. He landed in a heap beside the door.

“Back off.”

The low warning echoed in the room and the immovable presence of Brodie Maxwell positioned himself between her and Rick.

“Are you all right?” Although he uttered the question gently, BJ saw such fury in Brodie's eyes when he looked over his shoulder that she herself retreated a step.

“I'm fine.”

“I'm not!” Rick's voice raised to a whining pitch. He scrambled to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at Brodie. “I'm going to sue you for assault.”

“The lady is the one who can press charges.”

Rick advanced on Brodie like a puppy dog challenging a grizzly bear. Brodie didn't move. Rick wisely halted. “I don't know why you hired this thug, Beej, but he's got no business interfering in our private conversation.”

“Our conversation was over when you came in! You threatened me!” When she would have moved past Brodie, his hand on her elbow stopped her. He made sure she stayed out of Rick's reach.

“Did I?” Rick relaxed unexpectedly, smiling in a way that made BJ's stomach turn over. “I made a pass at you and you weren't interested. It's not against the law for a man to try.”

He smoothed the wrinkles from his polo shirt and tucked in a few strands of his long hair while BJ replayed the conversation in her head. Rick was right. His only threat had been implied. Bad manners and raunchy cologne didn't prove he intended her any harm.

“You're smarter than I gave you credit for, Rick.”

“Remember that when you vote for the new chief.” He backed toward the open door. “I'll see you tomorrow at work.”

Brodie released her and took a single step toward Rick. Rick nearly fell over, trying to hurry his exit. “You touch her again before this investigation is finished, Chambers, and I'll throw you out of here by your ponytail.”

“Brodie, that's not necessary.”

“It's all right.” Rick oozed conceit once again. “We all know Emma hired him to help with your …” he paused to squeeze sympathy into his voice, “…memory lapses. I'm willing to help in whatever way I can. You can count on my full cooperation.”

After Rick closed the door behind him, BJ muttered, “In a pig's eye.”

“What was that all about?” Brodie asked.

“I'm not sure. Rick can be rude and hot tempered, but he's never behaved like that before. Of course, he's got a lot at stake with that promotion. There's no other position he can advance to here at headquarters.”

“Then he's never threatened you like that before?”

“No.”

The protective rage that filled the room softened a little. Brodie had just been doing his job. But BJ felt as cherished and championed as any lady whose knight had just ridden in on a white horse to save her. Rick's unsuspected violence angered her, but what made the whole scene truly frightening was how out of control she felt. She was once more the victim, not the director, of her own destiny.

All day long she’d put off Brodie's attempts to discuss the night before. She knew she must have done something awful to find herself bare breasted and panting on top of him. But despite her humiliation, Brodie had done nothing but treat her with gentleness and respect. He kissed away her fear and confusion, and tucked her into bed. Her sixth sense told her that he had even stayed in the room with her until she found restful sleep.