Duplicity (28 page)

“It didn’t get ugly,” he said. “I just left and never went back.”

And he had never risked trusting a woman again-until now. She knew it as well as if he’d said it. Even after Tracy had failed him, he had ‘risked trusting her. The courage that had taken on his part staggered her, and it melted what resistance she had left to keeping him out of her heart. “I wish you could have had a happy marriage, Adam.”

He slid closer to the edge of his bed, closer to her. “Does anyone?”

“I did,” she whispered. “I’m sorry he died.”

“So am I. Matthew was a good man. You would have liked him.”

“I’m sure I would have.”

Tracy slid over to the edge of her bed, scrunched her pillow, and stared across the empty space between their beds to Adam. “I wish I could have gone to his funeral, and to Abby’s.” Tracy admitted aloud what she had kept secreted inside her for five long years. “I’ve accepted Matthew’s death, but at times, I still struggle with accepting my daughter’s. Living with it, I mean.”

“Why?”

“Because she wasn’t allowed to live before she died. That seems so … unfair.”

Adam reached over the space between them and covered her hand on the mattress with his. “You were only five months pregnant. The odds were stacked too high against her.”

“I know.” Tracy swallowed hard against her anger at that truth. “But losing her will always hurt.”

“I’m sure it will,” Adam said simply. “You loved her.”

Tracy had loved Abby. Immensely. Deeply. Totally. She always would. ,What really offends me is when people say things like “Oh, you’re Young. You can have other children.” A tear slipped to her cheek. Why had she let Matthew drive? Why?

Understanding sounded in Adam’s voice. “One child can’t replace another. You’d love other children as much as Abby, but you’d never love her less for loving another child.”

A second tear trickled down the path of the first. She loved Abby but she hadn’t protected her. Her child, her responsibility, and she hadn’t protected her. A sob caught in Tracy’s throat.

Adam came to her, sat down on the side of her bed and held her, closing his arms around her shoulders, sweeping her back with his hand. She’d never before seen such tenderness in him, and it touched her in places she’d forgotten she could be touched. She was supposed to be a woman who refused to love, who refused to care too much, and yet in his arms, with her face against his bare chest and his heart beating against her ear, she realized that while she had been refusing to care, she had been more than slightly crippled. She’d been lonely, lost, and empty. So empty, and absent from life.

Adam tightened his hold on her, buried his face at her neck, and pressed a kiss to her damp cheek, to her-temple. “You’re not fluff, Tracy.”

She wrapped her arms around his bare sides, her elbows brushing against the waist of his jeans, and looked up into his eyes, determined to take the plunge her heart had been urging her to take since she had first read his Intel file. “No, I’m not fluff, Adam,” she whispered. “And you’re not guilty.”

He swallowed hard, bobbing his Adam’s apple, and gently squeezed her, thanking her for her belief in him in a way no words could describe. “I have to prove my self to you,” he whispered shakily, his hands on her unsteady. “I have to know that at least one person in the world believes in me and knows I’m innocent.”

I am worthy of belief. I am innocent. I am worthy of being loved … Unspoken, and yet all of those feelings were there for her to feel in his touch. So was his desire that she be that one person. She saw it, heard it in the tremor of his voice, felt it in the grip of his hands and in the pounding of her heart. She wanted to give him the words, but she Couldn’t, so she kissed him instead. Poignant and tender. Survivor to survivor.

“It’s been a long time since anyone cared so much about me.” He nuzzled at her neck, pressed his nose against her skin. “Even longer since I’ve cared so much about anyone.”

Tracy stilled, rattled by the wealth of feeling in his words, by the impact of his tenderness and his kiss. “I do care, Adam,” she confessed. “I hate admitting it, and I hate it that I’m more wise, but I do care. attracted to you than I know is “I know.” He smiled at her. Not a happy smile, but’ one tinged with sadness, as if he knew exactly what she meant because he felt the same way.

“You’d, um, better get to bed.” She pulled away from him.

He didn’t move from-the edge of her mattress. He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I’m sensing guilt. I don’t like it.”

“It’s not guilt. It’s knowing that loving and losing hurts. No one’s eager to feel it once, much less more than once.

“So this isn’t about guilt or having sex, it’s about being afraid of loving and losing.” Insight trembled in his tone. “What haven’t you accepted about loving and losing, Tracy?”

“Abby’s death.” God, had she actually said it out loud? “It haunts me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She could have kissed him. No absolution. Only empathy because she’d screwed up and they both knew it, acknowledged it, and accepted it. “Me, too. I hate it when people tell me it was an accident, that I’m not to blame.”

“You were her mother. Of course you feel blame you’d feel responsible for whatever happened to her whether or not it’s logical or you actually deserved the blame. That’s how that instincts work-when you’ve got them. Some mothers don’t.”

His mother hadn’t. So how come he understood exactly how she felt? But right or wrong, guilty or blameless, none of that really mattered. “I should have noticed that Matthew had had too much to drink to drive. I was Abby’s mother, it was my job to protect her, and I didn’t. That’s indisputable, the bottom line.”

“No, it’s not,” Adam countered. “There are times when you screw up and you just have to forgive yourself for it. It’s damn difficult to love yourself enough to do it. Forgiving someone else for their mistakes is always easier than forgiving yourself for your own. But you either do it, or it eats at you forever. It haunts you. That’s the bottom line.”

Adam pecked a kiss to her forehead, then moved back to his own bed and settled in. “It takes a hell of a lot of strength to let go, Tracy.”

A few minutes passed in silence, and if Adam were smart, he’d let the silence go on, but he was crazy about her, as much as he was capable of being crazy about anyone, and, when it came to her friend Randall Moxley, Adam didn’t give a damn about being smart. He cared about Tracy getting hurt. He had to at least try to warn her. “Tracy?”

“Mmm?”

“Be careful with Moxley, okay?” Once, Adam had feared she was working with Moxley, selling new program technology. Now he wondered how he ever could have believed something like that of her. But he hadn’t really known her then.

“What do you mean?” Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, but it was too late now. Pandora’s box had been opened. “He’s an arrogant ass who’s overly worried about impressing the hospital staff and not nearly worried enough about your safety.”

“True-about the hospital staff,” Tracy agreed. She’d have to lie to refute Adam and she had the feeling he had been lied to more than enough.

Flat on his back, he folded his arms beneath his head. “I bet he gave you hell for defending me.” Tracy guffawed. “Who hasn’t?”

Adam debated, then decided. He either trusted her, or he didn’t. He’d come too far to go soft now. “Janet Cray.”

“Janet opposed. Strenuously.”

“No she didn’t.” Adam sighed. “She gave you space to make your own decisions and then tested the strength Of Your commitment and conviction.”

Tracy sat straight up. She left her bed, came and stood over him. She’d trusted Janet-trusted her. No. No, not Janet. She wouldn’t have done that to her. Fisting her hands at her sides, Tracy glared down at Adam. “Are you saying Janet betrayed me?”

He looked up at Tracy, his eyes solemn. “I’m saying she didn’t betray you. She’s the only one who’s been more worried about you getting hurt than keeping herself safe.”

What had Janet done? Something that could be perceived as betrayal; that much was clear, but what? Confusion churned in Tracy. Nothing was what it seemed. No one was who they seemed. Since Tracy had entered the Air Force, she’d led a simple life. She’d worked; she’d had to deal with the blow of giving up her first love of consulting on leading-edge technology because of Paul’s involvement in military contracts. She’d built her self a life alone, one centering on her work, her home, her garden, and she’d found a measure of peace. She hadn’t been satisfied, happy, or content, but considering all she had dared and lost, she had been only a little more than slightly crippled. Now, everyone seemed bent on taking even that from her, on severely crippling her.

And she was angry. Furious. Outraged. She had lost all she could lose. She’d lost everything. And she’d started over-alone. Alone! And still that hadn’t been enough. Life still had to take more. And that frightened her. People were trying to kill her, for God’s sake.

The urge to scream or cry warred in her, and Tracy battled them both, glaring down at Adam. “If Janet didn’t betray me, then what exactly are you telling me?’

The ‘ sheet was draped over his chest. He wadded the edge of it in his hand. “I’m telling you that she’s been in touch with me since I left the jail, Tracy.”

“What?

He sat up. “She only let me know you were in serious trouble for disobeying a direct order and not closing out my case file.”

Grapevine-attuned, Janet knew a lot. But how had she known Adam was alive? How had she known where to find him-how to reach him? Why hadn’t she told Tracy?

“That’s it?” Tracy asked. Janet had been in Intel. Had been? Was. Once in, always in, regardless of where you’re stationed, your position, or your official status. Janet hadn’t left Intel. Maybe it wasn’t her primary duty anymore, but she still remained in its ranks. If anyone would know about Adam, it would be her. She’d worked with him before, and-the truth rang clear-Janet believed him innocent. “She told you as a means of protecting me?” That was the most obvious deduction. But nothing was as it seemed, so was it the right deduction?

“Yes.” Adam dragged a hand through his hair. Look, I know this is hard for you. All of it. You didn’t buy into-,the program, you were drafted. They forced you to defend me and get involved. Like I told you before, if I could do what needs to be done without you, then I would.”

“But you can’t.” Innocents would die. Her chest went tight with fear, They were confronting some powerful people. She could end up dead-and probably would, if she crossed those powerful people, which she had no choice but to do. Still, it was the right thing. “I’m a military officer, Adam.” She lowered her gaze to his chest so he couldn’t see how deeply upset she was. “I did buy into the program.”

Going back to her bed, she stopped at the foot of his. Fear wasn’t a sign of weakness, it was a sign of good sense. She was afraid, and strong enough to admit it. Crossing her chest with heir arms, she looked over his feet up to his face. The soft T-shirt bunched over her ribs, beneath her arms. “Adam?”

“Yes?”

Her mouth incredibly dry, she licked at her lips to moisten them. “Would you hold me for a while? Just until I get used to the idea of someone trying to murder me.”

Adam couldn’t believe his ears. She wanted him to hold her? She was turning to him to feel safe? Surprised she’d let anyone see her this vulnerable, that she’d chosen him, touched him too deeply to speak. He tossed back the covers, and opened his arms.

Tracy scrambled over the foot of the bed and nestled against his chest. Feeling her tremble, Adam’s heart wrenched, and he wrapped his arms around her. Didn’t the woman know he could never refuse her anything?

She’s getting to you, Burke.

He heard his conscience, and acknowledged it. Yeah, she was getting to him. Hell, she had gotten to him.

He stroked her tangled hair and massaged the knots of tension from her neck. The urge to make love to her hit him hard and hot and deep. He clamped his jaw and buried it. That time would come, but it wasn’t now. She had come to him for protection, to feel safe in a world that had turned upside down and unsafe. For respite from the ugliness and fear. What was happening was hard for a realist. Tracy, with one foot planted firmly on the ground and one just as firmly in the clouds, was an idealist who believed she was a realist, and that doubled her agony. She had watched her husband and daughter die and, weighed down by misplaced guilt, she’d pulled herself up by the bootstraps only to have her ideals stomped on again. And that, Adam hated most of all.

The woman who had cried for him had been hurt too much, and now she faced more danger. She deserved all of the good life had to offer. Every damn bit of it. Not pain and fear. He tightened his hold on her, listened to her ragged breathing, and silently vowed to protect her, to prove his theory that Paul Keener was working with Colonel Hackett and Major O’Dell-and probably General Nestler-in a conspiracy to corrupt Project Duplicity. Adam would expose them all including Laurel’s god.

Any soldier with sense feared Nestler. His clout ran right up the chain of command, cruised through the Pentagon, and rolled straight on into Congress. But Adam would cross him. He’d cross anyone, do anything to anyone to protect Tracy and find out who had killed his men-or he’d die trying.

Forfeiting his life was highly possible. Adam didn’t need the bean counters’ stats to deduce that his survival odds ranked less than his typical mission’s two to ten percent. But to stay true to the man he’d become the day his parents had abandoned him in that jail cell, he had no choice. He was used to risking his neck, and to doing his job knowing his competency would impact a nation. He could handle those pressures. But-He looked down at Tracy’s sleeping face, at her arm slung over his chest and her knee wedged between his thighs, and his heart turned over in his chest. But he was not accustomed to working and risking or impacting Tracy’s life.

In knowing all she had done for him, he had fallen hopelessly in love with her.

God help them both.

Chapter 21.

Adam rolled out of bed, rousing Tracy.