Talon: Combat Tracking Team (A Breed Apart) (25 page)

Somehow, though it shook her to think of it, Aspen stood in Dane’s arms. Warm, strong, capable arms. His words rumbled through his chest and poured like steel into her soul, strengthening her courage, infusing her with strength not her own.

She had totally lost it, listening to Talon crying for Austin. Because that’s what she’d been doing for two years, hadn’t she? Crying for her brother, the one the Marines had written off, declared dead.

Dead men tell no tales
.

Well, this dead man would. Because dead men don’t live in Djibouti with a missionary.

She looked up at Dane and cringed. “Wow, your eyes are really turning black.”

He smirked. “First lovers’ quarrel.”

The admonishment was on her tongue when she saw Santos peeking at them through the door window. Panic punched her onto her toes. She curled a hand around the back of Dane’s neck and tiptoed up. She pressed her lips to his.

Hands on her hips, Dane nudged her back. “What—?”

He’ll see or hear us!
She kissed him again, this time leaning into it, her mind on the man staring at them. Had to make it believable, right? This was the way they covered their tracks or something.

Dane pushed her away again. “Aspen.”

“Santos,” she muttered.

Dane snorted a laugh then ate it as he looked to the side.

“He’s watching.” The heat flared through her face, clutching her in a humiliating grip. “At the door.”

“It’s okay,” he said to Santos and waved him onto the terrace. “Talon got a little excited, and it proved upsetting for them both. She was overcome.”

What was he doing? Dismissing her? Confusion and anger coiled around her mind like a vise. How dare he relegate her revelation about Austin to nothing more than a hysterical outburst. Because that’s what he was saying, wasn’t he?

“I understand,” Santos said, smiling. “When my Camille died, the littlest thing would make me hysterical.”

“Hysterical.” Aspen gulped the fury. Nodded. Great. Fine. They were writing her off as an emotional woman. And Dane…

He turned to her. “No, not hysterical. Concerned.”

Platitudes.
That
she didn’t need. She pushed him aside. “Don’t patronize me. I’m not an idiot.” She snapped her fingers to call Talon and returned to the room, humiliation her only friend. Down the two steps to the upper level then into the room with the queen bed. Once inside with Talon, she clicked the lock. She shoved back her unruly curls, breathing a hard thing to do at the moment. He was making fun of her.

He pushed her away.

Her belly spasmed as she fought the tears. “He didn’t want me.”

That’s ridiculous
.

But it’s true
.

Arguing with herself only inflamed her shame. Made her feel even more stupid. This was insane. Absurd. This wasn’t some romance novel where they played married then fell in love. This was real life. Capitalizing on a situation to get real answers.

But he didn’t even seem to want the kiss. Or like it.

And that after they’d nearly kissed back at Lemonnier. Or was that her imagination?

On the terrace, he’d pushed her away. Like a petulant child. Like a silly girl with a crush on the high school senior.

“I don’t have a crush!”

“It’s good to hear.”

Aspen spun, pulse thundering through her veins. “How did you get in? I locked it.”

Shaking his head, Dane looked down and closed the door. He slid the bolt along the upper portion of the door then planted himself on a whicker chair in the corner. He sat, bent forward, elbows on his knees.

“What are you doing?” Now she
did
sound petulant. “Never mind.” Aspen slumped on the bed and covered her face with her hands. Her head throbbed. So did her feet. And her back. And her pride.

Click
.

She lifted her head and found him in front of her, sliding the pen back into his pocket. At this angle, his shoulders seemed broader. His chest bulkier. And his stubble just a shade darker. He had the ruffian thing going on real well.

Curse the man. Why did he have to be so gorgeous?

“Why did you kiss me?”

She tore her gaze from him and looked out the window behind him. “I—I saw Santos watching us. Why didn’t you kiss me back?”

Amusement danced in his eyes, making her feel like she was fifteen and had just kissed Tom Stanton, the prom king. “Did you want me to?”

“No!” A stampede thumped through her chest at the lie.

Dane stifled a laugh.

“Isn’t that what you people do when others watch?”

His eyebrow winged up. “‘You people’?”

Aspen groaned. “Don’t do this to me. I feel stupid enough as it is.” Dane took her hands in his and tugged her to her feet.

She resisted, at war with the way her heart beat like a bass drum at his touch and her determination to be angry with him.

On her feet, she swallowed and mustered a nonchalant stance.

Until his finger tilted her chin up and he frowned. “First, this isn’t the movies. We don’t have to kiss every time someone sees us alone together.”

She tried to look away, but he redirected her gaze with a slight nudge of her chin.

“And let’s be absolutely clear about one thing—our…
situation
is part of a mission. It’s not a carte blanche for me to take advantage of you. I have no interest in crossing that line.”

Aspen blinked and stepped out of his reach, still stinging from the words,
“no interest…”

“Of course not.” Had she been wrong at Lemonnier when they’d almost kissed? The shock of his words wore off about the time he said something about sleeping on the floor.

Sleep in the desert for all I care
.

Why on earth was she so angry?

Because the wound was so familiar. Reminded her of growing up in the shadow of her twin brother. High school quarterback. Voted most popular, most handsome, most annoying—okay, that was her vote, but it counted. Homecoming king—both his junior and senior year, somehow. She was the one with the As, the scholarships to Ivy League colleges. But it was his dismissal of her as being nothing but a brain that drove her to prove him wrong. To join the Air Force instead. Good thing someone paid attention and landed her in the JAG offices, or she’d have been boots-on-ground deployed and possibly killed.

For that reason, despite the cutting words from Dane, she took the words in stride. Well, as much as she could. Why did she ever think she could come here, play spy, and find Austin? Everything in her was crumbling, falling apart. If they hadn’t discovered that Austin had lived here, she’d have packed up and gone home already.

Since that wasn’t an option, she’d settle for finding her brother. But tonight showed her she was way out of her league, both in the romance department and the military department. She just prayed she didn’t get herself killed.

    Seventeen    

D
arkness sneaked into the room, circled the bed that held Aspen, and circled around the wooden legs till it wrapped him in its black tendrils. Sleep evaded him. As it had so many times over far too many years. Arm stretched behind his head and one draped over the yellow Lab, Cardinal focused on the wood floor digging into his shoulder blades. A good, painful reminder of where he’d come from. Where he belonged—in the hard clutches of pain.

Eyes closed to the darkness, he still felt it surround his soul. Longed for a pew and some stained-glass windows. Flickering candles. Peace…

He’d done the right thing with Aspen. Though that look in her blue eyes haunted him even now, it was right. It was better. They’d focus on the mission, track Austin down, and then they’d go their separate ways. He’d never see her again.

He turned onto his side, his back to the bed. Talon shifted behind him with a loud sigh.
You and me both, buddy
.

The wood pressed against his shoulder. He stuffed the pillow beneath his head. Then lifted his head, folded the pillow in half, and jammed his head back down. As he relaxed, the pillow hissed and slid out.

Cardinal grunted, flattened the pillow, and dropped onto his back again. A pew with its too-thin-cushion would be more comfortable!

You’d still have to live with yourself
.

He had no problem doing that. He’d done it all his life. His hard life. Which is why he belonged on the hard floor. He spent his life avoiding things that made him soft.

She had soft lips.

Augh!
Dane thrust himself off the floor and reached for the door. Behind him, he heard the bed creak and pushed himself out the door, down the hall and stairs to the bathroom. He gripped the stand-alone sink. Arms behind his head, he stood facing the wall, eyes closed.

“Stand straight,” the voice boomed. “never cower—even when you face punishment.”

He shoved a mental rod down his spine till he stood as tall as the man wielding the punishment. Braced
.

Crack!

He flinched as leather met flesh. Scalded his back. The tip of the belt buckle caught him just below his shoulder the next time. Bit off a chunk. Fire tore down his spine. His knee buckled beneath the agony. His palm caught the wall
.

But he jerked upright, knowing if he didn’t, that one wouldn’t count
.

Cardinal shook his head to dislodge the stinging memory. Fifteen whips. He’d bled that day with each strike that had mirrored a year of his life.

“It’ll make you stronger.”

If only it had.

Maybe it was him. He was the failure. Where had he gone wrong? He’d disciplined himself. Had a healthy body. Kept his emotions in check. Even now, he drew into himself, hauled together all those elements that threatened his calm, his focus. He tied them in a virtual ball and lobbed it into the sea beyond the house. He had to.

“You cannot be broken if you don’t let it.”

He trained his mind on his pulse and coerced it into a slower pattern merely by breathing slower, more intentionally.

But like a needle ripping over a record, his mind jumped tracks.

Aspen.

No. Austin. Finding her brother. Putting the pieces together.

There were no pieces. He was stuck here, on a dead-end—
No.