Under Fire (30 page)

“She ran screaming in the other direction,” Liam snapped. “What did you expect, after your little mind game in there?”

“Quit trying to make me feel guilty for stating the obvious. Where is she? Seriously.” He shoveled in another bite.

“She’s gone back to the bedroom, trying to catch some sleep while it’s raining.” He wanted to make sure Rachel didn’t overtax herself. She’d been open about her burnout. Seeing Harris offered up a harsh reminder of just how no one was immune from a breakdown. Would this mission help her return to her old drive, or was it too much, too soon?

“Smart to rest up while she can.”

“First rule of a good warrior. Never stand when you can sit and never sit when you can sleep.”

“You know it.” Cuervo dropped the spoon into the brown plastic container, all humor fading from his lean face. “Are you really going to get out of the air force?”

Ah, so that’s where the kid had been going with all the games and chitchat in there. He’d been attempting to get a handle on what Liam had in store for the future to see if Rachel had anything to do with recent decisions.

“It’s not like I’m quitting. I’m retiring.” Liam pulled out the crackers and packet of processed cheese spread from the MRE box. “The military lets you retire at twenty years for a reason. This job is hard on a body, as my creaky knees can attest. I’ve been in for twenty years. It’s time.”

“I forget sometimes that you enlisted at eighteen. That you even went to college while on active duty. The civilian world is going to seem—”

“Alien? Quiet?” He forced down a fear that rivaled anything he’d felt on the battlefield. “Yeah.”

He squeezed the cheese out onto the cracker and stuffed it in his mouth. Tasted like crap but it was familiar. Safe to eat.

Safe.

The word tripped him up.

When had he started playing life safe?

Cuervo rolled up his empty food pouch. “We need the ones like you to stick around, the ones who put everything into the job. Too often it’s the jackasses who only look after themselves that stay in. And how bad does that suck for those of us still left?”

“Is that what this is all about? Scaring Rachel off and convincing me to stay in the service so some jackass isn’t in charge?”

“The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive. You can have Rachel and the career.”

Liam stared the kid down. “How old are you again? Twelve? Thirteen?” Anger roiled in his gut. As if the decision to leave the service had been made lightly.

“No disrespect meant.” Cuervo stood taller, an invisible wall forming between them as surely as if the rain had started pouring through a crack in the porch roof.

Liam shook off his shitty mood. No good would come from taking it out on Cuervo. Wasn’t his fault. “Hey, kid, seriously. I’m old. It’s my time to step out of the field whether I stay in or not. Would you really be content to hang out in some war room watching the action go down live on a big screen?”

“Honestly, they’ll have to bury me before I would quit.” The darkness in the younger man’s eyes made him look decades older.

Liam angled off the porch post and clapped the junior team member on the arm. “Don’t joke around about crap like that.”

“Without the missions”—Jose shook his head—“I don’t have anything else. Don’t want anything else.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’ve read my file.” His throat moved in a hard swallow. “It’s all in there.”

And it was, the real reason no one ever saw Jose James with a drink in his hand, the sad irony behind his call sign, Cuervo. “You had a drinking problem, but you completed the rehab program. At our last feedback session, everything seemed cool. Or is there something you need to talk about?”

“I’m dry. Solid for today. One day at a time, you know?” Jose’s hand slipped into his pocket and he stared at his five-year-sober coin, flipping it between his fingers. “This job keeps me level, gives me discipline and a reason to stay that way.”

“And you’re sure you’re not having a problem I need to know about?”

“Seriously, I’m cool. If I’m ever having a rough patch, I just run another marathon.” He laughed darkly. “I’ve never been healthier.”

“In reading your file, I learned a lot more that you can be proud of. You broke a family cycle of alcoholism. It stops with you. That’s huge, man.” Liam dug up every ounce of insight he’d gained from all those marital-counseling sessions. It came in handy sometimes when leading his team. “Your nieces and nephews, your own kids someday, they can look to you as an example of how life can be.”

“Thank you. Your opinion means a lot to me.” More of that humidity-filled silence hung in the air before Cuervo continued. “Although, I still think it’s utter horseshit that you’re retiring, dude.”

Liam let the tension roll off and smiled. “That’s still ‘dude, sir’ to you for now.”

Laughing, they settled back into the routine of just hanging out. No need to talk. They’d spent hours on training ops and missions, silent, waiting, watching. He would miss this most of all, the team, mentoring.

But he couldn’t dwell on that. Cuervo’s words would have to roll right off like the rain sheeting from the roof. For now, he had his final mission to complete before he could move forward with Rachel.
She
was his future. And God help him if he screwed up with Rachel in what was clearly the chance of a lifetime.

His last chance.

Half awake, half asleep, Rachel felt the mattress dip as Liam slid into bed behind her. She didn’t even question how she knew it was him. The air just, well, changed when he entered a room.

She rolled over in the split-rail bed and into his arms. Her bare legs tangled with his, since he wore just boxers and a T-shirt. The rain tapped hypnotically on the roof. Trees swayed and twined in a shadow show outside the window.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He tugged the sheet up to their shoulders. The log cabin quilt was folded and draped along a cane rocker. His jeans were draped on top and she hadn’t even heard him get undressed.

Sliding closer, she fit her body to his and toyed with his dog tags. “Did you find out anything new?”

“There’s definitely data on the chip that has nothing to do with favorite phone numbers.” He stroked her hair back, then tucked his hand into the overlong T-shirt to cup her bare shoulder. “But it’s all in a code we’re not having any luck breaking.”

Relief sparked through her so intensely she squeezed her eyes closed. She hadn’t realized until now just how much she’d feared Brandon might be wrong. Although how crazy was it to be happy there was a traitor out there gunning for them? “So this nightmare is all too real.”

“I’m sure enough to be very careful that chip lands in the right hands.”

“Thank you. Oh God, thank you.” She rested her forehead on his chest, inhaling the familiar musky scent of him and letting it sweep away the fear she’d been carting around like an eighty-pound pack. Finally, she steadied her breathing enough to speak again. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Cuervo’s pulling a shift guarding out front. Sunny and Wade are sleeping on bedrolls in the living room. Brandon said he would watch over the dog-sitter in the spare room.”

She scooted up to sit against the log headboard. “Were you able to call in? Did you speak with Agent Cramer or Captain Bernard?”

“The storm kept us from getting a steady signal.”

So they were still on their own out here. But with more people aware of the situation, on board and believing, this wouldn’t get shuffled under a rug. Whoever was trying to sell those secrets would be caught.

All those instincts she’d honed working search and rescue missions were coming back to life and shouting for her to be on the lookout for unfinished business in this crazy mess.

And her business with Liam? They’d taken a huge step in sleeping together, but where did they go from here? How would they fit into each other’s everyday lives, when he’d screwed up commitment so often he was scared to go there again? And when she was starting to believe in the possibility of happily ever after for the first time since she’d lost Caden?

Liam shifted next to her again and then moved again. “Do you think we could fit any more dogs in this bed?”

Leaning forward, she shooed Disco and Fang to the floor. Their nails clicked against the hardwood until they settled on an oval braid rug at the foot of the bed.

She slumped back onto his chest. “Better?”

“Roomier.”

“Do you have a thing against dogs on the bed?”

“A double bed? Yes. A queen- or king-size? No problem at all.”

Wow, strange how important that one little question was to her. And even stranger to take hope from it, when they had such larger concerns waiting back in the real world.

“I can’t imagine life without my dogs. Everything feels… simpler when they’re with me. My PTSD patients tell their dog things they haven’t been able to share. And once the wall comes down…” She wasn’t sure how she would have made it through losing Caden without her own dog then. She’d been so alone, without her mother. “There are even therapy dogs in some schools to help children gain confidence in reading. Dogs don’t judge. Their attention—their love—is unconditional, no matter how crummy a past they’ve come from themselves.”

“Maybe I should have gotten a dog instead of getting married every other week.” His voice was hoarse, groggy even, as he toyed with her hair. “I could have saved myself a boatload in legal fees and divorce settlements.”

“Maybe you should have.”

“I was joking.”

“I’m not.” She looked up to meet his eyes, the steady beat of the rain on the roof echoing the sound of her racing heart.

“Helluva way to tell me Fang is my new dog.”

Again, he’d tried to deflect with humor, but she wasn’t so easily sidetracked. “I would never push a dog on anyone. A pet deserves to be welcomed and wanted unconditionally. So do people, for that matter.”

Dog nails clicked on the floor, tracking around to Liam’s side of the bed. Fang rested her chin on the mattress next to him. His hand rested on top of the pup’s head. “What’ll happen to her now?”

“I’ll find a good home for her,” she answered vaguely, trying to push down how much she wanted that home to be with Liam.

For Fang. Not for her. That would be too rushed, of course.

“You could keep her and train her.” His hand smoothed over the puppy’s knobby brown head.

So he didn’t want her to give the dog away, but he hadn’t stepped up to claim Fang for himself. What was holding him back from doing that now? And why was she so certain committing to the dog would be a big cosmic sign he was ready to settle down for real?

“It’s too soon to decide if she has the necessary traits for that kind of work.” She burrowed closer to his side. “Have you ever had a pet?”

“My dad was allergic. Then I was traveling too much…”

The hesitation in his voice made her ask, “But?”

“There was this one time, back when I was an Army Ranger in Afghanistan. A stray dog hung out around our compound. He was a brown mutt type, like a German shepherd with no markings other than one white paw, his left front one. We unofficially adopted him.”

All these years and he remembered exactly what the dog looked like. Rachel’s heart squeezed. “What was his name?”

“Rocky.” Lightning sparked, filling the room with light as he stroked Fang’s nose. “He was always there waiting for us on top of a rock pile, even warned us a couple of times of a land mine or approaching enemy. Until he didn’t…”

“Didn’t?”

“Animal control works differently over there… or rather not at all. The insurgents shot him.”

Rachel didn’t even respond. Words would be trite, and he wasn’t really with her right now. His mind was clearly in another time and place.

“Things—missions—were tougher to cope with after he was gone. Rocky didn’t have any formal training, but he sure helped a bunch of worn out rangers get through the day.”

She’d heard about the horrors that soldiers faced, as they poured out their stories while holding on to any number of dogs. For some reason, rescued dogs seemed to have a special affinity for the job. Shared pain, perhaps? A wounded vet tapped into that belief in second chances.

And above all, dogs didn’t judge.

Liam’s hand slid from the puppy. “I probably could have used this little mutt back in the day, but I’m getting out now.”

“How does the team feel about that?” How did
she
feel about that? She didn’t know.

“It’s not like we’re guaranteed to work together forever anyway. Already one of our guys has transferred up to a training position in Panama City. Hugh Franco—you should remember him from the Bahamas.”

“Hmmm…” She feathered her fingers over his furrowed forehead. “You’re not happy about this decision.”

He clasped her arm and kissed her wrist before setting it to rest on his chest. “The military has been my life, at the expense of my personal relationships. The time has come to make a change.”

Nerves buzzed in her stomach. Could he be talking about the two of them? Except truth be told, she wasn’t sure she could envision him hanging up his uniform. “I thought you were against relationships because of your ex-wives and childhood. But now you’re saying it’s because of your job too.”