Silent Warrior: A Loveswept Classic Romance (15 page)

The irony of that sentiment, considering their current disagreement, wasn’t lost on her. But no matter how deep and conflicting the emotions he aroused in her, she was not backing down.

“I don’t want you to worry about me. That’s not in your job description.”

“I’ve told myself that for ten years. It doesn’t seem to make a difference.”

Again he’d shocked her into silence.
Ten years?
“I shouldn’t have called you then either. A man like you, with your sense of obligation …” An obligation he’d obviously never let go of. His loyalty to Nathan ran as deep as his loyalty to his job. Nathan had been the same way. She should have known. “But I had nowhere else to turn,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

He laid his hand on hers. She didn’t pull away.

“You didn’t this time either,” he said.

She felt the pull of his eyes on her, let it build up, until she had no choice but to look up.

“I didn’t mean for you to feel obligated to me. Because of Nathan—”

“That’s not why I worried about you, Cali. My partnership with Nathan is not why I flew halfway around the world to find you.”

“Then why …?” She shook her head and looked away. “You don’t have to tell me. You came. You helped me. Again. You probably shouldn’t have.” She looked back at him. “But I’m glad you did. And not just for the program. I shouldn’t say this, not with everything else, but …”

Common sense kicked in at the last moment and she trailed off. Some things definitely were better left unsaid. The warm feel of his fingertips on her chin caught her off guard.

He stared at her in silence until the tension between them was snapping sharp. “Yeah,” he said finally, a touch of resignation in his voice. “I know what you mean.” He dropped his hand back to hers
again, only this time he picked it up. He examined her palm, then the back of her hand, tracing her veins and the length of each finger with the interest and focus of a surgeon. “There are many things I’ve wanted to say to you for years and knew I shouldn’t. So I didn’t. I got as far away from you as I could to keep from saying them.”

There was no mistaking the not-quite-hidden need in his voice, or the matching look in his eyes. He’d reached some sort of wall. The problem was she didn’t know whether he wanted her to encourage him to go over it, or keep him safely on his side.

There was a sudden surge of noise from the lower level, where Scottie had set up a command center of sorts. Both agents appeared from the kitchen and made a beeline for the stairs, with T. J. tossing out a brief, “Pardon us,” before disappearing behind Scottie.

She looked back to John. “You need to go down there too?” She had no idea what she’d expected, but it had not been the flash of bleak resignation that crossed his face before he masked it. Also masked was any trace of the vulnerability she’d spied only moments earlier. He rubbed his fingers over her hand, his attention obviously elsewhere, then abruptly stopped the soothing motion, dropping her hand as if just realizing he was touching her. He shifted away.

“Go,” she urged, thinking it would help them both to return to their respective corners. “This was getting us nowhere.” Liar. She had no idea where
their conversation had been taking them, but it had definitely been somewhere. Somewhere she probably had no business going. Unable to shake the hollow feeling that accompanied that thought, she pushed to a stand.

“I’d better get back to work anyway.” She gestured to the floor above them.

“You’re not going down?”

“If it affects this case, I’m sure I’ll hear about it at some point.” She wondered at the set look on his face. “Don’t think about locking me out of this, McShane. I’m in to the end. It’s my problem.”

“It’s the country’s problem. You don’t have to risk your life beyond this point, Cali. You do what you do best. Work out the program. Without that, we have nothing to bait them with. We don’t need you as human bait. Leave that part to the trained professionals.”

She didn’t want to argue with him. She was dying to know what he’d meant by his earlier statement. What had he spent ten years running from? Why had he been compelled to run from her at all?
Dangerous questions, Cali Ellis
. “Why don’t you head on down there. I’m sure that, whatever the situation, Scottie and T. J. would appreciate your presence in command central.”

“No.”

“Fine. Maybe it’s better for you to rest anyway. Can I get you anything before I head back upstairs?” As if she was really going to be able to concentrate with McShane anywhere on the premises and with all
that unfinished business between them. “Something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“All right.” She turned toward the stairs, then paused at the base. Something wasn’t right. “You okay?”

“Define
okay
.”

One hand resting on the newel post, she turned back to face him. “Is something else going on here that I don’t know about? You want me to call Scottie or T. J. up here?”

“I can’t block your involvement in this case, Cali.”

Surprised, she said, “But you just spent the last fifteen minutes trying to talk me out of it.”

“I said
can’t
. I want to. If there was any way I could, I would.”

“I’m sure you could find a way to pull strings. But I appreciate you letting me do what I need to do.”

“I don’t want you hurt.”

How did he look so indomitable sitting on the couch, one foot propped on the coffee table, his body all banged up, his eyes so hollow? Hollow. “I don’t want you hurt either,” she said. “But that’s why I have to do this. Don’t you see, I can’t stand the thought of anyone else getting hurt. Or worse.” She couldn’t stifle the shudder. “It’s already cost too much. Nathan. You.”

“I’m okay.”

She stepped closer to him. “No, you’re not. And I’m not talking about the obvious.” He looked worse
than beaten, he looked … lost. “What’s going on, McShane? Why can’t you do whatever you please with your team?”

“Because as of nine o’clock this morning, I’m no longer officially on the team. That’s why.”

NINE

“What?” Cali crossed to the couch, stopping next to his outstretched leg, hands on her hips. “That doesn’t make any sense! It wasn’t your fault you were caught. You saved my life.” She swung around. “I’ll talk to Scottie.”

“I wasn’t removed. I resigned.”

She whirled back. Her face gradually lost color. John asked himself for the dozenth time in the last five minutes what in the hell he was doing there. He’d known going in that he had next to no chance of getting her to change her mind about using herself as delivery woman. But he’d come anyway.

“It’s my fault. You’re leaving your job because of me.”

Yes, he was. “It’s not your fault.”

“You left the Blue Circle right after helping me. Now you’re leaving again. What am I supposed to think?”

Good question, McShane. What are you going to tell her? I’m leaving became I love you? Because I need you when I’ve never needed anyone?

He’d resigned. Technically, and for the first time in fifteen years, he was a free agent—in every way. He had choices.

He rubbed a hand over his face. He’d been sure of the choices he’d made that morning. But now that he was with Cali, things weren’t so clear-cut any longer. He realized now they never had been. Ah, hell.

“You’re supposed to think I know what I’m doing.” Though why she should when he didn’t have a clue was beyond him. He massaged his temples. “You’re supposed to think that any decisions I made were in the best interest of the team.” It didn’t help. There was no hiding from her. Ten years should have taught him that. He dropped his hand and looked at her. “In the best interest of you.”

Her eyes lit on fire. “So that’s why you’re here? To make sure the team and I do what John McShane thinks is best for us?”

He sighed heavily. He shouldn’t have come. He should have had T. J. or Scottie find a way to cut her out of the deal. He should have found some other way to keep her safe, some other way to say good-bye.

“Cali …” He had no idea what to say.

She stepped closer, sat on the coffee table so she was eye level with him. He couldn’t look away.

You can’t run away either
, his little voice warned.
Not this time
.

“What about what’s best for you? What does John
McShane want?” She huffed out a breath, swore softly, raked a hand through her already thoroughly mussed hair. He saw the fatigue etched around her eyes. Saw that he was adding to it.

“Never mind,” she said quietly. “I have no right. Your life is yours.”

She stood. John thought he’d hated pain on her face. He hated the resignation more.

Did you expect her to beg you to stay?

The hell of it was, he had no idea what he expected. Then or now.

“However, you no longer have a right to tell me what to do with my life either.” The words were flatly stated. Cool. Her eyes were none of those things. She stepped back. The distance was far more emotional than physical. He felt both keenly.

He was doing the right thing, he told himself silently. Free agent or not, he had nothing to offer her. Except a past he couldn’t change. And a future he couldn’t predict.

“I’m almost done decrypting the program.” She crossed her arms, studied the backs of her hands as she continued. “I don’t know how long it will take to analyze what Nathan did, determine how dangerous the completed work was or how close he was to finishing it. But I do know that I’m the best one—the only one—to lure the other side in and keep their suspicions to a minimum.” Her increasingly strident tone gentled as he continued to stare at her in silence. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Sure.” He didn’t rein in the harshness. What difference
did it make now? “No problem. Out of sight, out of mind.”

His sarcasm surprised her. Her eyes narrowed. “You know your team. They’ll work out all the logistics.”

“Is that what Scottie told you? T. J.? Do you have any idea what little problem you’ve created? Do you realize that three of the four team members that existed when you contacted me are in this town house? That Scottie is in the middle of several other assignments, not to mention rebuilding a team that can’t sustain any further losses?”

“Then how in good conscience can you leave them now?”

“I had no choice. I’m compromised. More liability than help. We’ve taken too many of these hits. I’d only hurt the team worse down the line. It’s not worth the risk.”

“You mean because the other side saw you? They don’t know who you work for.”

“Who told you that?”

She leveled him with a flat look. “No one had to tell me that.” While he was busy being rocked by that dead-on, unequivocal appraisal, she went on. “So work behind the scenes until this is over. Head up a new assignment elsewhere.”

“It’s not that simple. The risk goes beyond this case.”

She threw up her hands, turned, and paced to the front door. She put her hand on the knob then turned to face him. “Then what in the hell are you doing
here? You’re all worried about the risk you represent to us. You’ve decided you’re unable to function as an agent. Well then, you’d better leave, since you can no longer associate yourself with this team.”

John couldn’t clamp down on the groan as he heaved himself off the couch. She turned the knob.

“Don’t.” He flattened his palm on the door, smacking it back shut. His face was dangerously close to hers. He pushed it closer. Her expression was defiant, mutinous.

Beautiful.

“I don’t take orders from you.” She kept her hand on the knob. “If you came here on the noble mission to save me once again from myself, then you can leave. I heard what you have to say.”

“You heard, but you didn’t listen.”

She shrugged. “You win some, you lose some. You can’t bully people into doing what you want all of the time.”

“You have no idea what I want, Cali Ellis.” He felt his control careen wildly to the point of no return.

“You claim to love your work. Yet you’re leaving it. You say you’re loyal to your team, yet you’re leaving them. You claim to care what happens to me, yet you’re leaving me too. I don’t think you know what you want, McShane.”

He tugged her hand off the doorknob and pressed it to his chest. “Feel that?” He could feel the thumping beat himself, could hear it drumming inside his ears.

She opened her mouth, but before she could
speak, he yanked her hand up, pressed her fingers to his temple. “I know what I want.” He tapped her hand. “In here, I know what’s best. For you. For the team. And, by default, for me.”

He tugged her hand back to his chest. “But in here I’m lost. I have no guidelines for following what I feel. As a rule, I try not to feel anything in here.”

“Is that so wrong?” she asked, her voice a bare rasp. She pressed harder with her fingertips. “Since when is feeling wrong?” She flattened her palm.

“Since I took on a job where ‘feeling’ with your head keeps you alive and feeling with your heart gets you dead. And if you’re lucky, you’re the only one to die.” He covered her hand, pressed it harder. “It has always been a fair trade for me. I like what I do. My work satisfies me. I’m good at thinking with my head.”