Captive of Fate (21 page)

Bauman jerked the microphone from her. “Senators, I think you should keep the following in mind during Ms. McIntire’s further testimony. She spent twenty-four hours a day with Colonel Breckenridge down in Costa Rica. Not five hours or even twelve. But all day and
all night.
Unfortunately, we were unaware of their liaison at the time the report was handed in to us. Naturally, when additional information reached the senator’s office, he chose someone less—uh—
biased
to revise the report.”

Alanna felt the explosion of disbelief around her, and she fell back against the chair, one hand across her mouth. Whispers flew through the room, and then suddenly she heard Matt’s voice slice through the buzz of speculation.

“Mr. Bauman, I don’t know who gave you that information, but your conclusions are erroneous and unforgivable under the circumstances.”

The room hushed immediately, and Alanna jerked her head up, staring at Matt in stunned disbelief. He was angry, his gray eyes stormy and narrowed. Her heart raced as he glanced at her for a brief, melting second.

Bauman shrugged eloquently. “It may be unforgivable, Colonel, but it is true.”

“Under the circumstances,” Matt snarled, “she had no choice, and neither did I. Senators, I received orders to take Ms. McIntire up to San Dolega immediately. We drove part of the way, then hiked the last five miles to the village and arrived at nightfall. The area was completely destroyed by earthquake, and if it hadn’t been for my own equipment, we both would have spent the night out in the rain. The fog had us socked in, and there was no transport available. As it was, we did spend the night in the same tent together.”

“Colonel,” Bauman chided, “we have a sworn affidavit that you also spent other nights together, including the time you were searching for those crates.” He picked up the papers. “It’s all here, senators, the three policeman have sworn to what I’ve just said.”

“Again, Mr. Bauman, it was an unfortunate necessity since we were out in the middle of a jungle. But to suggest that Ms. McIntire’s testimony is worthless because of our supposed indiscretion is ridiculous.”

Senator Seale looked down at Alanna with new interest. “And what do you have to say about all this, Ms. McIntire?”

She pulled the microphone from Bauman, glaring at the attorney. Her throat ached with tension. “Senator Seale, there is something even more disturbing about this investigation,” she blurted out unsteadily. Dizziness washed over her, but she forced the words out. “I had taken two rolls of film with me to that meadow where the crates were discovered. On the first roll were four photos of the meadow itself. On the second roll were photos of the colonel and the police investigating the ten crates that had been broken open. I had pictures of each crate number, and none of them, I repeat, none of them corresponded with the numbers on supplies intended for San Dolega. We found out later that they had been stolen from a shipping dock by three men who are political enemies of Costa Rica. They had trucked those crates to an area where the supplies could be utilized by Guerrillas in Nicaragua.” She gulped hard, glanced at Thornton’s reddening face, and then rushed on in a breathless voice.

“As you can see, there are only five photos with this report, and the story I got from the Senator’s staff is that the second canister of film was not found with the material that I turned over to them upon my arrival home.”

Seale gave Thornton a look of triumph. “It’s obvious if you only had four photos from that one canister, Ms. McIntire, that only four pictures should be here with us today. Is that not correct?”

An icy feeling was spreading through her body, and she felt lightheaded. Of course! They had to have the other canister in order to have produced a fifth photo! Seale was smiling broadly, and she nodded. “That’s correct. Furthermore, I’ve underlined sections of my report that have been changed or deleted to reflect badly upon Colonel Breckenridge. The few supplies being stolen from San Dolega were tracked down by the colonel when we flew back to San Jose. The Costa Ricans responsible for the theft are now in jail.”

She felt Bauman’s fingers gripping her elbow, and pain raced up her arm. Half turning, she jerked away from him. Not to be outmaneuvered, Bauman took the microphone.

“Senator Seale, we still have irrefutable evidence that Colonel Breckenridge has a bank account in San Jose with considerable money in it—money that was gained by selling stolen medical supplies.”

“Mr. Bauman, I think that we have evidence that will disprove your allegation,” Matt thundered. He looked up at Seale. “With your permission, Senator, I’d like to supply you with the signature on my supposed bank account and my true signature. I flew down to Costa Rica last week and investigated the bank account and gathered evidence to prove it is not mine.” He handed them to an aide who took them up to Seale.

Alanna held her breath, her gaze fastened on Matt. He had been down in Costa Rica last week! She gasped. Cauley had lied! Matt hadn’t been home at all when she had driven over to talk with him. Her heart wrenched with new-found agony when she realized Matt was defending her despite the fact that he thought she had told Senator Thornton about Tim’s death.

Seale was analyzing the signatures intently. He raised his eyebrows, nodding his head. “Senators, I’ve just been handed a sworn statement by one of the most widely recognized graphologists in the United States, and it appears that Colonel Breckenridge did
not
open that bank account in Costa Rica. Take a look.”

Thornton blustered. “Let’s get on with it! I want to know why my boy’s death was covered up by the Marine Corps.”

Alanna forced herself to move, gripping the microphone with both hands. “No! The reason for this hearing was to investigate the theft of medical supplies from San Dolega.” She no longer cared about anything. Her breathing was uneven, and she gasped to find sufficient air to inhale. “Senator Seale, I appeal for your help in vindicating Colonel Breckenridge. He
is
innocent! The real investigation ought to center around those other photos and why they weren’t introduced as viable evidence.”

Matt’s voice rose about the gathering pandemonium. “Senator Seale, I would also offer this photocopy of a receipt from a local photograph service. The receipt is for developing two rolls of film with a total of twenty-four pictures. The signature on the order is Senator Thornton’s secretary’s. The date the secretary left these photos to be developed corresponds to the date Ms. McIntire turned over the initial report to the senator. I believe some explanation from his office is necessary on this small but important point.”

Bauman was offering protests, and Sullivan had leaped to his feet. The banging of the mallet striking the hardwood base sounded like a pistol shot through the confusion of exclamations and cries.

“Let’s call a recess,” Seal droned. “I think it appropriate for this investigative committee to discuss the need for further testimony. Gentlemen, shall we retire to our chamber and look at our options in light of this new evidence?” He slammed the mallet down again, emphasizing his point.

A
deluge of reporters, television cameras, and commentators descended upon Alanna. She sat helplessly entrapped by the crowd of newspeople. Bauman elbowed his way past, throwing her one last glaring look. Sullivan muffled an oath, shoving his way clear so that she sat there alone.

Numb and confused again by fever, she felt the grip of a hand on her arm. Stupidly she looked up. Up into the face of Matt Breckenridge. Her lips parted, and tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

“Come on,” he urged. “Can you stand?”

Blindly she rose, a feeling of utter weakness making her lean heavily against his strong body as he made a path for their exit. Once inside a small side room, he closed the door, locking it behind him. Alanna stared up at him, lips parted, unable to say anything. How could she? What could be said to salvage their destroyed relationship?

“Here, sit down before you fall down,” he ordered tightly, guiding her to a straight-backed chair. She sat, and he knelt down on one knee, touching her hot, fevered cheek. “You’re burning up,” he growled, searching her face worriedly. “I knew there was something wrong. Damn. Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Alanna reached out, gripping his arm. “Matt—I never said anything to Thornton,” she croaked, tears blinding her vision. “They—they said that you told them about us sleeping together in Costa Rica and you wouldn’t return my phone calls, and when I came to see you—”

He looked at her sharply as he rose. “What are you mumbling about?”

“That—Cauley said you—”

“That’s a damn lie! Come on, you’re ready to faint. Just hold on, Alanna.” He helped her to stand, his mouth a thin, compressed line. “Hang on, Babe,” he whispered tightly, “and we’ll get this straightened out between us.”

She sobbed quietly, burying her head against his shoulder, incredibly weak. “Oh Matt,” she chocked, “I love you…. I never said any of those horrible things. They tried to blackmail me and—”

“Hush,” he ordered. “No matter what happens, Alanna, just know that I never stopped loving you for an instant. Not one second.”

*

She was only vaguely aware of the reporters when Matt led her to the awaiting dark olive green car. Lying back against the seat, she closed her eyes, allowing the fever to take her into a semi-delirious state. The motion of the car and the warmth of Matt’s arm holding her tightly against him lulled her to sleep.

At the hospital Matt never left her side for a moment. She had a fever of one hundred and three degrees, and they promptly gave her antibiotics. Afterward, on a bed in the emergency room, she weakly sat up when the doctor left.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Matt demanded, putting a restraining hand on her arm.

She gave him a confused look. “Home.”

“There will be a million reporters sitting on your doorstep waiting for you, Alanna.”

She searched his stony features. “Where then?”

“My home…. Our home.”

“But—”

He shook his head, a slight smile curving one corner of his mouth. Taking her into his arms, he pulled her tightly against him. “You’re very sick, honey. You need rest, and you need someone to take care of you for a while. I want you home with me. You stay here, and I’ll get your coat and the prescription. Promise you won’t leave?”

She muffled a sob against his chest, aware of his hand stroking her unbound hair. “Never….”

It was raining when they left the hospital, and Alanna found herself exhausted by the drive to McLean. At some point, she rested her head against Matt’s broad shoulder and fell asleep immediately. He gently woke her, guiding her from the garage into the rambling brick home. Leaning tiredly against him, she let him take her into the master bedroom.

The room was large and airy with another antique brass bed, delicately carved oaken dressers, and beveled glass mirrors on the closet door and the bureau. Royal blue curtains were drawn aside to allow the natural light from the sun to filter through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. An enormous Boston fern graced one corner.

Matt took off her coat and made her sit down on the bed. She unbuttoned the blouse and skirt, slipping out of them. Matt brought over his large, thick, terry cloth robe, wrapping her warmly within it, and then drew a tub of streaming hot water. She loved his thoughtfulness and reached out, catching his hand as he brought in a bath towel from the other room.

“I’ll be all right,” she urged, squeezing his fingers and offering a smile she didn’t feel. “I’m just a little tired.”

He observed her critically, standing in front of her with his hands resting casually against his lean hips. “You should see yourself. Your skin looks so damn translucent I can practically see your bones. And the darkness is coming back to your eyes, which means a fever.” He pressed his cool hand against her brow, pursing his lips. “Just as I thought. Time for another round of antibiotics.”

Alanna groaned. “Let me have my bath, and I’ll take them afterward,” she muttered.

The warm water revived her slightly. Dressed in a warm flannel shirt, she stepped from the steamy bathroom into his bedroom. Matt was there waiting with several pills and a glass of water. Alanna wrinkled her nose, taking them without further protest. Urging her into the bed, Matt drew up the fleecy quilts and shut off all but the bathroom light. “Go to sleep, honey. I’ll be nearby if you need me. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”

Alanna nodded wearily, her eyelids feeling like lead weights. One part of her longed for his embrace, but her body needed sleep. In moments, she had spiraled into a dreamless world, content.

*

She had no idea how long she slept, but when she awoke, Matt was sitting on the side of the bed watching her. He offered her an encouraging smile, reaching out and touching her damp forehead.

“Your fever’s down,” he said, taking a cool cloth and gently dabbing it against her cheeks and neck. “How do you feel?”

Her mouth tasted gummy. “Better,” she managed. “I’m thirsty….”

He nodded and got up, pouring some orange juice into a glass. Coming back to the bed, he slipped his arm beneath her shoulders, drawing her upward. Alanna rested against his body, drinking the cool, sweet liquid. Matt put the glass on the bedstand, cradling her within his arms.

“Better?”

She nodded, closing her eyes, needing his closeness. “I had horrible nightmares….”

“I know, honey, you’ve been delirious the last seven hours.” He touched her shirt. “Let’s get you into some dry clothing, you’ve soaked everything.” She nodded mutely, unprotesting as he wrapped her in a dry blanket and then carried her into the living room. A huge gray dog sat near the couch where he placed her. Alanna’s eyes widened in alarm.

“That’s Megan,” he explained. “She’s been watching over you, too. Just lie here until I can get the sheets changed and find a pair of pajamas for you.” He tucked her in, making sure she was comfortable. Straightening up, he looked over at the Irish wolfhound. “Stay,” he ordered the dog. “Megan won’t hurt you, honey. She’s just big.”

Alanna managed a broken smile, closing her eyes. “After all the hell we’ve been through, the dog could be nine feet tall and I wouldn’t care.”

She drifted off to sleep again and awoke when Matt carried her back to the bedroom. Megan followed, wagging her tail in friendly fashion. Alanna offered no resistance when Matt stripped the soaked flannel shirt from her body. Like a child, she allowed him to redress her in a pair of his own pajamas. Once back within the warmth of the bed, she felt better.

“Feel like some tea?” he offered.

“Sounds good.”

“We’ll be back in a minute,” he promised.

*

Matt sat on the edge of the bed holding his cup of tea and watching as she drank her own. “You look better,” he noted.

“I am.” Alanna carefully set the cup down on her lap, resting against the pillows he had arranged behind her head. “Matt, we have to talk. I’ve got to unravel everything—”

He reached out, capturing her hand. “While you were asleep I made a few important calls, Alanna.” He set his cup down, his face reflecting the pain she heard in his voice. “From what I can piece together so far, Jim Cauley went to Thornton and told him about us and how we had spent those nights together.” His nostrils flared, and he stared down at the carpet for a long time before continuing. “Cauley also told Thornton what happened to Tim over in Vietnam.”

Alanna gasped, nearly spilling the contents of the cup. Matt reached over, taking it and placing it on the bedside table.

“Why?” she cried softly. “Oh, my God, why, Matt?”

He shrugged painfully. “It’s hard to explain, Alanna. Men who go to war together share a very special camaraderie unlike anything I’ve experienced elsewhere. And because of that, Cauley felt he had earned an important place in my life. He never let go of the war, and I did. You saw that down at San Dolega the night he wanted me to go after those children trapped up on the mountain. For him, it was like going to war all over again. Another chance to get high on adrenaline and risk his neck in some dangerous condition. He lives in the past, and he expected that same closeness of me even now. And I can’t give that to him. Getting older means continuing to grow, not just living in the past. Jim just never left the war behind, that’s all.”

Alanna swallowed, her heart aching with new anguish. “And he saw me as a threat?”

“Exactly. The night you came over to talk to me he just happened to be there to feed Megan while I was down in Costa Rica. He made up the whole thing, Alanna. I wasn’t home asleep after drinking myself into a stupor. I had decided to fly down to Costa Rica to investigate that phony bank account myself.”

“And he never told you I had come over?” she asked in a small voice.

Matt slowly shook his head. “I just found out about it by confronting him on the phone.” He looked up at her, his gray eyes tender with love. “In my heart I knew you would never tell Thornton. I knew you hadn’t done it, Alanna. But I was so wrapped up in getting the information together for the hearing that I didn’t have time to contact you. I tried calling your apartment over and over, but all I got was a busy signal.”

“It was those stupid reporters calling,” she explained, her voice flat with distaste.

“The first week you were gone I found out where you were staying in Seattle and left at least three phone messages at the hotel. You never returned them.”

She touched her forehead shakily. “Lord, that was when I was holding those evening meetings. I would stumble in around midnight or one in the morning, Matt, and literally fall into bed. I never thought…” Her voice faded, and she stole a look up into his tired face. “I never expected you to call. I’ve been so jumpy ever since you told me the real story about Tim’s death that I never gave it a thought. I’m so sorry….”

He squeezed her hand. “It’s understandable, honey.”

She chewed on her lower lip. “Matt, what about Tim’s death? What’s happening because of that?”

“It means a full investigation,” he admitted heavily. He leaned over, kissing her cheek. “But you’re not to worry about that. First things first. Let’s get you well.”

“But—”

“Shh, it’s one in the morning and time for sleep. Remember what I told you before; we’ll live one day at a time. And right now all I want to do is take a shower and then hold you in my arms all night.”

She lay awake waiting for him, restless with questions about the turn of events. But before she realized it, she had dozed off, her body giving in to the ravages of the illness.

Alanna awoke slowly, glorying in the sensation of Matt’s arms around her. She barely opened her eyes, her head tucked beneath his jaw, listening to the even cadence of his heart and his softened breathing. She had slept against him, their legs tangled, her arm thrown across his naked torso. Drawing her hand up, she lightly skimmed the surface of his muscled, hard body, delighting in the breadth of his chest where the hair was a silken carpet beneath her exploring fingertips.

She felt him awaken. His hand moved around her slender waist, then pulled her hips daringly against him.

“Don’t wake a sleeping lion,” he growled, his voice thick with sleep.

She smiled gently, arching against him suggestively, her breasts pressed tantalizingly against his chest. “Is that an old Chinese saying?” she teased softly, raising her chin and kissing him lightly.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he barely opened his eyes. “No, an old Marine saying,” he growled, the reverberation of his voice sending a thrill through her.

Alanna suppressed a smile. She reached up and brushed back a lock of hair that lay against his forehead. “I thought that was a jungle bunny saying.” She tensed, waiting for his reaction to the derogatory nickname given the Marines.

Matt grinned, gently pinning her beneath him. “You know, you’re getting pretty bold for this time of the morning. It must be a sign of recovery.”

She laughed softly, reaching up and slipping her arms across his shoulders, glorying in the texture of his back. “No, it’s love, darling,” she whispered, mesmerized by the flicker of light in the depths of his gray eyes.

He sobered, resting on his forearm above her. “Lady, I’m having a hell of a time keeping my hands off you,” he muttered huskily. “If you weren’t so damn ill I’d—”

She placed her fingertips against his strong mouth. “Then love me, Matt,” she pleaded softly, “love me as if there will never be another tomorrow.”

He groaned, sweeping her into his arms. Alanna was keenly aware that he was holding himself in check. She felt fragile and breakable, yet, at the same time, her spirit overflowed with joy. She trailed her hand down the line of his lean waist to his thigh. Matt stiffened, gripping her tightly against him.

“Don’t,” he groaned. “I don’t want to hurt you, honey.”

She relaxed within his embrace, hypnotized by the silver flame blazing within his eyes as he hungrily gazed down at her. “I’m not some kind of doll that can be broken. I want you, darling, like I’ve never wanted anyone in my life. We nearly lost one another,” she whispered throatily.