Danger Close (Shadow Warriors) (42 page)

“Dad thought you were sick,” Jim explained as he lingered a long time against her lips. It was hell leaving her soft, sweet mouth. Unwillingly, he eased Cathy away from him and he sat up. Tossing the patchwork quilt and sheet aside, he stood up, naked before her. “I guess it never occurred to him what long days of combat can do to a person. Sleep is the only antidote.”

Cathy nodded and moved to the side of the bed and dangled her legs over the side of it, reveling in the contentment that surrounded them. She hungrily gazed at Jim. He’d lost muscle mass and tone during the coma. And yet, the strength that was inherent to him, internally, was like radiating sunshine around her. He made her feel stable. Jim pulled open a dresser drawer and tossed a pair of faded blue jeans on the bed beside her. Cathy touched them. A teasing smile lingered on her lips as she caught Jim’s warm gaze.

“Is this the dress uniform of the day?”

“That and one of my T-shirts.” He saw a rose flush come to her cheeks. How shy and how vulnerable Cathy really was. He saw her frown as she moved her injured leg. “First, how about a bath?”

She nodded eagerly. “Love one. Besides, my leg has stiffened up and I’ve got to do something to get it moving properly.” Cathy was sorry she had said anything, noticing the frown gather on his forehead. “It’s nothing. Dr. Tucker said it would be a year before I’d get full use of it again. Until then, it gets cranky when the barometric pressure starts to fall.” Cathy stood and opened her arms to Jim as he came over and embraced her. “I’ll be able to tell you when a storm is approaching.”

Jim kissed her soundly and then gave her a warm pat on her rear. “Wonderful,” he muttered, and then matched her smile. “I’m in love with a barometer. Come on, I’ll get that water ready for you.”

The cast-iron tub sat up on eagle claw brass legs and steam rose lazily into the air as Jim stood in the doorway. Cathy was in more pain than she was letting on and that bothered him. She had gone through six weeks of hell on every level, alone and without his help. Jim stilled the growing inner rage over what Mackey had done to her. Right now Cathy was the focus of his life. He picked up his worn terry-cloth robe of dark blue and placed it on the brass hook opposite the tub.

As Cathy slipped into the water, she groaned with pleasure. She had coaxed her hair into a loose topknot that refused to stay centered on her head. Long tendrils of hair curled in the steam, softening her features even more. She looked up. “Join me?” She stretched her fingers, dripping with water, toward him.

Jim crouched by the tub, caught and kissed her fingers. Taking the washcloth from her hand, he said, “Not this time.” When he saw Cathy’s disappointment, he added, “You’re in a lot of pain with that leg. Give it room to stretch out and relax.” He soaped the cloth, sliding it across her shoulders in lazy circles. “I’ll join you another time.”

“I can’t hide much from you, can I?”

“No, you never could, babe.” Jim met her green-and-gold-flecked eyes that were shining with love for him alone. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Later, Cathy sat on the vanity chair, wrapped in Jim’s robe as he took his bath. The pleasure of having Jim wash her was an unexpected surprise. She didn’t want to leave Jim, afraid that this was all a beautiful illusion that would shatter as Monday morning drew near. Jim tucked the towel around his waist and turned, bringing her into his arms. He nuzzled her ear. “God, you’re beautiful, Cathy.”

She trembled beneath Jim’s roughened tone. “I love you so much,” she said, and she pressed her lips against his. As she eased away, she looked up into his dark, hooded eyes smoldering with need of her. “I’m afraid, Jim.”

“Of what?” he asked huskily, rubbing her back and shoulders in a caressing gesture.

“That—that this is all a desperate dream I’ve made up. Come Monday morning, when I have to go back, it will shatter.” Cathy closed her eyes, holding him tightly. “I’m afraid this is a figment of my imagination. I’ve finally gone over the edge and whacked out.”

Jim held her. “It’s no dream, Cathy. I’m real and so is what we’re sharing.” His voice lowered and he cupped her cheek and tilted her chin up just enough so that he could look into her darkened eyes. The blush sweeping her cheeks made her just that more enticing to him. “And anyone put through what you have for the last month would be walking on the edge, too. What you don’t realize is how strong you’ve been. You only see your weaknesses. I see your strength.” Jim placed his hand over her heart. “It’s here. That’s your reserve, babe. You live on your emotional highs and lows. That’s the only way you know how to be. And it’s gotten you further and in better shape than it would most people I know.” Jim shook his head. “You’ve been through hell. I see it in your eyes, the lost weight. But your heart is beating strongly beneath my palm. You’re not a quitter, Cathy. You never have been and that’s just one of the many things I love about you.”

Cathy bowed her head and pressed her hand over his. “I remember when I was nine years old I went to a county fair. I always loved horses and I hung around the stalls and the racetrack. There was this terribly underfed and thin black Thoroughbred, Jim. I cried for him because he was pathetically starved and the owner didn’t care. All he was interested in was racing and winning.

The black was up against six other horses and I’ll never forget leaning over that rail and watching him.” Cathy’s voice wobbled with tears. “He was in last place at the three-quarter pole, Jim. I watched that wonderful horse with a heart as big as a house in his thin chest rally. I watched him flatten his ears against his head and lengthen his stride. His nostrils dilated and you could see blood trickling out of them. I started crying and yelling at the jockey to stop him. But the black just kept lunging forward, overtaking first one horse and then another. I was crying so hard by the time he won the race that I couldn’t see. I wiped my eyes and I saw him stagger and I knew…”

Jim grimaced. “Did he die?”

“Yes. The track announcer said he died of a heart attack.” She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “I’ve never forgotten that thin, black horse. I cried for months afterward every time I thought of him. I saw myself in him, Jim. I was like him and I knew it.”

With a whispered endearment, Jim held her. “You were denied so much as a child growing up, Cathy. You were starved in another way. The horse had heart. He ran on it just like you run on yours.” Tenderly, he kissed her. “And like him, you give everything you’ve got, babe. Only—” and he looked deeply into her anguished eyes, framing her face “—you aren’t going to have to run the last of this race by yourself.”

“I—I’ve felt so close to death sometimes, Jim. In the last two weeks since these hearings started, I began drinking. Heavily. I couldn’t take the loss of you any longer. I felt so naked and alone at the hearing. Everyone had something riding on my shoulders.” She lowered her lashes in shame. “I’d drink myself to sleep every night. I’m not proud of that. I’ve never turned to drugs or drinking before to escape.”

With a huge effort, Jim held on to his anger at what they had done to Cathy. “We’ve all done things when we’re in pain, babe. I drank pretty heavily for about three months after Susan’s death.”

“I’ve never done anything like this before, Jim.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. I’m certainly not going to be.” Jim gave her a small shake, coaxing a slight smile from her. “If you have trouble sleeping from here on out, I’ll take care of that. Deal?”

“Deal,” Cathy agreed brokenly.

“Hungry?”

She rallied beneath his warmth and care. “Starved.”

“For me or food?”

Her laughter filled the bathroom and Jim smiled. He silently promised Cathy that she would get plenty of both, to help her get back on her feet.

“You first. Food second.”

With a wicked grin, he opened the door, allowing the steam to escape. “Let’s give that leg of yours a well-earned rest first? I guess that leaves food as top billing?”

Cathy reluctantly agreed and followed Jim back out into the bedroom. His hair was dark and plastered against his skull. She had an urge to coax a few errant strands off his forehead as he sat down on the bed to pull on his socks. Jim had lost an alarming amount of weight. And then Cathy realized that was because he had lain in a coma for five weeks. He was still pale and must be still recovering from the depths of his own hell. She sat down next to him, slipping her arm across his broad shoulders.

“We both look like POWs,” she muttered.

“We’ll gain back what we lost,” Jim reassured her. He handed her a pair of his socks. “Come on, let’s get dressed. We’ve got the whole day ahead of us.”

Adopting his enthusiasm, Cathy began to dress. “What’s on the agenda?”

He shrugged. “What do you feel like doing?”

Cathy hesitated and held his warm gaze. “Can we go down to the old swing in the apple orchard?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he promised softly.

THE LATE afternoon air played with her hair, twisting strands across her shoulders as Cathy lovingly applied a fresh coat of red paint to the old swing beneath the apple tree. Between them, they had sanded the entire swing, taking off the flaked or faded paint garnered from the winter before. Cathy looked around her: used pieces of sandpaper littered the grass where she knelt in her paint-splotched blue jeans. Jim approached her with two glasses of well-earned iced tea in hand. Champ barked joyfully and raced toward her. The dog came to a panting halt where she knelt, wagging his tail until she petted him. Satisfied, Champ lay nearby.

“Break time,” Jim said, handing her the sweaty glass. He sat down next to her and examined her handiwork. “Not bad for someone who doesn’t claim to be a very good painter.”

Cathy wrinkled her nose. The sun tea was cold and sweet, with a hint of lemon. She set the glass near the gnarled trunk of the tree. Jim knelt down beside her, placed his tea glass next to hers and drew her into his arms. Cathy grinned and rubbed her hands on the thighs of her jeans before she acquiesced to his embrace.

“I like working with my hands,” she murmured.

Jim maneuvered Cathy until she lay in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. “I like the way your hands touch me,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Strands of her hair tickled his chin.

“How come you were gone so long?” Cathy asked, settling comfortably in his arms.

Jim lost his smile and eased his fingers through her ginger hair shot through with gold and copper as sunlight lanced through the leaves of the apple tree above them. “I made a phone call,” he hedged.

Cathy heard the evasiveness in his voice, her smile disappearing. “To whom?”

“Colonel Mackey.”

She saw the anger banked in his eyes before he was able to veil his reaction. “And?”

Taking a deep breath Jim asked, “Would it bother you if I flew back to D.C. tomorrow morning? You could stay here at the farm and fly in early Monday if you wanted.”

Her heart took a painful wrench in her breast and Cathy sat up, remaining close to him. “What happened, Jim? Something’s wrong.”

Entwining her slender fingers between his own, Jim said, “Mackey’s being evasive as hell over the phone. I told him earlier that I wanted a complete explanation of why he lied to you about my medical condition.” Disgust covered his face as he looked across the lawn and toward the asphalt road in the distance. “He’s hedging and I’m going to find out why. I used to think Mackey was a man of integrity, that quality you’re supposed to expect in a career military officer.” His mouth flattened. “Instead, if I’m reading him accurately, I think he’s used both of us for his own political ambition.”

Cathy opened her mouth in shock. “Jim, he was like a father to me from the time I woke up in the hospital until now. No one could have been warmer. Or kinder.”

Jim snorted softly. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing, Cathy. He’s used your blind trust in others for his own end. Exactly how, I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out.” He squeezed her fingers. “Will you be all right here? I’ve already talked to Mom and Dad and they’ve promised to keep you company until you join me Monday morning.”

Her heart pounded with fear and she didn’t know why. So often, she could sense something wrong without knowing who or what. Her voice grew quiet but firm. “No, I’m going back with you, Jim.”

He met and held Cathy’s steady gaze. “Look,” he began heavily, “it will be an all-out war between me and Mackey. I’m not going to pretend it won’t be, babe. I don’t want you caught in the middle of it. I don’t want you hurt anymore.”

Cathy loved him for his protectiveness, but this was her fight, too. “Jim, I have every right to confront Mac as much as you do. If what you’re saying is true, he owes both of us an explanation and an apology.”

His grip on her fingers tightened. “He’s going to give more than an apology before I get done with him. I’m going to take a pound of flesh from that bastard for what he’s put you through,” he whispered roughly.

BUCK ARNLEY met them at the airport. Cathy stood back while both men embraced one another. She saw the glimmer of tears in each man’s eyes. And then Arnley walked over to Cathy, throwing his arm around her, grinning broadly.

“We’re a team again,” he told her proudly.

A team…the words echoed in Cathy’s mind as Buck drove them to the hotel near the Capitol. The two Marines talked in low voices and Cathy contented herself by watching the Sunday noontime traffic in the drizzle of a summer shower. Was the rain an omen of things to come? she wondered. Had Mac used her? Why had he lied to her? Occasionally, Jim would glance back at her, a worried look in his eyes and Cathy would force a smile for his benefit. She tried to control her churning emotions, nauseous over the forthcoming meeting with Mackey.

When they arrived at the hotel, they became silent, riding the elevator to the fifth floor. Jim halted in the plushly carpeted hall of the hotel room and knocked twice on the white door trimmed in gold. He gave Cathy’s hand a final squeeze. Today, Jim wore dark brown slacks, a crisp white shirt open at the collar and a tan sport coat. He glanced down at Cathy. She looked thin but elegant in a pale pink shirtdress that brought out the slight color in her cheeks. He saw the fear lingering in her eyes. The door opened.

Mackey stared across the threshold at them. As always, he was in his Marine uniform. By the set of Boland’s lean jaw and his compressed mouth, Mackey realized the officer wasn’t going to accept anything but the truth. His gaze moved to Cathy. She looked better and he was sure it was due to Boland’s being alive. Moving aside, he gestured for them to enter.

Cathy tried to still her nervousness, clutching the small white leather purse in her hand after handing Mackey her damp raincoat. She looked around the sumptuous suite, wondering if Mac or the taxpayers’ hard-earned money paid for it. She watched the two men sizing each other up like two wary alpha wolves circling one another. The air fairly crackled with tension and she sat down on the beige silk couch, crossing her slender legs.

“It’s good to see you, Jim,” Mackey said, holding out his hand toward him.

A muscle leaped once in Boland’s set jaw as he stood staring at the colonel. “The time for social amenities is long since past, Colonel.”

“I see….” Mackey withdrew his hand. He walked over to the large cherry desk, pulling open a drawer and choosing a cigar. “Sit down then, and we’ll have it out,” he growled.

“I’ll stand,” Jim countered, moving toward the desk, placing himself between Cathy and Mackey. He watched as the colonel bit off the end of the cigar and then slowly lit it. A thin stream of smoke curled from the corner of his hard mouth, his eyes assessing as he locked with Boland’s.

Mackey stood, the desk a barrier between them. “How are you, Cathy?” he asked, the hardness gone from his gravelly voice.

She swallowed. “Better, Mac. Improving every day.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Are you?” Jim snarled, squaring off at the colonel.

Mackey slowly turned his head, a glint of anger in his eyes, his expression set like a pit bull getting ready to leap at the throat of his intended quarry.

“You know, Jim, we go back a long way. You’ve been like a son to me—”

“Cut the crap, Colonel. That’s old history. Don’t bother with the rest of whatever line you were going to pull on me, because it won’t work. We’re here for one reason. Why did you lie to Cathy about me?”

Mackey inhaled deeply on the cigar, holding Boland’s glare. “You don’t know the whole story.”

“No, but we’re going to have it before we leave here today.”

He tapped the ashes off the glowing tip of the cigar, aware of the tension in every muscle of Boland’s body. “No, you won’t.”

“Don’t give me that ‘need-to-know basis,’ Colonel.”

Mackey’s glare clashed with his. “That’s exactly what it is, Captain.” He emphasized Boland’s rank, reminding him whom he was talking to. “And you’d damn well better cool this temper of yours. I won’t stand still for insubordination from a junior officer.”

“It won’t work, sir. If you don’t give us a reasonable explanation, we’re going to the press. I’ve read enough papers between Friday and today to know that you’re in deep shit over this leak of ‘need-to-know’ information concerning the wiretapping fiasco.” His voice roughened with anger. “I figure since I’m a mystery guest in this whole stinking matter, I can blow a few more holes into whatever little political game you’re playing. Would the senators like to know the whole story on this wiretapping? Like my refusing to go through with it because Cathy wasn’t up to handling it? You’ve abused her trust, Colonel.” He stalked the perimeter of the room, his gaze never leaving Mackey.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re ranting and raving about, Captain. I’ve treated Cathy as if she were my daughter! How dare you infer I’ve done anything to harm her.”

“I’ve got some of it figured out, Colonel. You wanted Lane. You’d told me this wiretapping matter was only at regimental level. You lied. I come out of a coma and I find out a senate hearing is making big news in Washington. Did you know that when you asked me to get to Cathy? I’m sure you did.” Jim answered his own question and placed his hands flatly against the desk.

“Senate hearings, Colonel. I’m impressed. What were you going to get out of this? Nothing less than a general’s star, I’m sure. And what else? Senator Fredericks is obviously pushing to see Major Lane hung. He’s the fair-haired boy who’s running for president in two years. A nice, tidy little package deal you got for yourself, didn’t you? A man who might be president if you did a little dirty work for him to gain him favorable press.” Jim’s voice lowered in disgust. “You and whoever else is involved in this, didn’t give a damn if you manipulated me or Cathy.”

“Captain, you’re way out of line,” Mackey said. “What you’re suggesting is totally wrong. You’re angry and you’re striking out at anything or anyone to get even. Now you settle down, you’re just firing into the dark.”

Jim stood up, rolling his shoulders to throw off the accumulated tension gathered in them. He jabbed a finger at Mackey. “You used my trust in you. After Cathy refused to work with you, I’ll bet you were scrambling. I don’t know if that firefight at Ban Pua where Ingram and Hayes got killed was your doing or not. Having watched Lane, she’s just as capable of planning their demise as you were.”

“Now you wait just one damn minute!” Mackey snarled harshly, going rigid. “I won’t be accused of such an outrageous atrocity!”

“The fact remains that Cathy was the only survivor of that firefight.” Boland’s eyes turned glacial. “You immediately flew to her side and pretended to become her friend and mentor, just as you had to me previously. And just like me, she fell for your ploy. Congratulations, Colonel, you’re a real good actor.” A sliver of a smile cut across Jim’s features. “So where does that leave you now? With your ass in a sling. The impression I got from the newspapers is that Fredericks is now backpedaling like crazy, trying to disengage himself from you. He’s trying to appear neutral so no matter the outcome of these hearings, he’s safe. The attack has shifted and Lane’s looking like a victor in all this while you go down the tubes. Does that mean no general’s star, sir?” His nostrils flared. “An early pension out of the Corps instead?”

Mackey slowly drew the chair out from beneath the desk and sat down. His eyes locked on Boland’s angry face. He studied the cigar for a long time and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. “Get out of here, Captain. I’m tired of listening to your tirade. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Cathy rose and went over to Jim, gripping his arm. She could feel the tension beneath her fingers and she gave both of them a pleading look. The muscle in his jaw leaped again, but Jim’s gaze never left the colonel.

“Mac?” she begged. “Please, tell me what happened. We’re all upset over this.”

Some of the agitation left Mackey’s face as he looked over at Cathy. He saw the anguish in her eyes. “You were our only living witness to all this, Cathy,” he began quietly. “The doctors said you’d survive. I waited another three hours until Boland came out of surgery. At that time, the medical team said he would be out of anesthesia in an hour or so. Well, he never came out and Dr. Cornell led me to believe that he would die.” He shot a glance to Boland. “I assume you talked to Cornell about all this?”

“Yes.”

“And he told you the same thing I’m telling her now, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but that didn’t give you the right to lie to her, Colonel. Not one damn bit.”

Cathy gripped Jim’s arm, giving him a look to remain silent.

“Colonel…Mac…why? Why did you keep the truth from me?”

Mackey scowled and inhaled on the cigar, unable to hold her tear-filled eyes.

Jim put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. “Because the colonel wanted all of your energies focused on this hearing for his star and for Fredericks’s ambitions,” he gritted out. “Isn’t that right, Colonel? You figured if Cathy knew I was alive, she’d want to be at my side. You and I both knew her well enough to realize she’d stay with me and refuse to go to the hearing.”

Cathy swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Mackey blurred before her. “Mac?” She prayed Jim was wrong.

Mackey allowed the cigar to drop into the ashtray, clasping his hands across his flat, hard stomach, meeting their stares. “It was my personal opinion that you wouldn’t be able to simultaneously cope with Boland being in a coma and trying to testify. I made the best decision I could under the circumstances. The doctors were worried about your strength. I’m sorry, but the mission came first.”

Cathy gripped Jim’s arm. Jim had been right. They had both been callously used without their permission. “I’m sorry too, Mac,” she choked. Her voice quavered. “For all of us.”

“Don’t worry, Cathy, he’ll sleep at night. He’s real good at this sort of thing. A past master of it.” Jim’s voice shook with feeling. “Who else was involved in this? Was Dr. Tucker?”

Mackey shook his head. “I brought Tucker and Arnley in to try and help support Cathy emotionally,” he defended.