Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 (23 page)

“Start with the man. Who was he?”

Something in his tone drew her gaze up. He stood there, hands on his belt, expression daring her to tell him. “You do realize that in my position, in my job, there are things I cannot tell you.”

“Why? Why can’t you tell me who he was?”

Cassie tried to breathe, but his anger— “Will you ever listen to me again? Will you ever give me the benefit of the doubt, enough to hear me out?”

His dark eyes probed her. Searched her very soul. A piece of the jagged cliffs of his resentment broke away. “Probably not.”

The well-placed dagger of his words seared straight through her. What she’d expected, she didn’t know, but it wasn’t that. “Sal—”

“No.” His voice went dark. “Don’t go there. Leave it alone.”

“How can I when it’s getting in the way of us doing our jobs?”

“I don’t need you here to do my job. Leave. Let me get on with finishing this.”

“I have information you might want.”

Sal’s jaw muscle jounced.

“I was at Takkar Towers because of Kiew Tang.”

Though he’d tried to keep that rocklike expression in place, he slipped. “The woman who hit Hawk in the mountains?”

Cassie gave a slight nod. “It’s my firm belief that she is not completely complicit with Daniel Jin’s operations.”

“Holding a gun to Hawk’s head makes it 100 percent complicit in my book.”

She couldn’t argue that, though she wanted to defend her friend. “I can’t explain fully what’s going on, but I think he’s got something over her. I believe he’s beating her. That she’s not acting on her own cognizance.”

His cheek twitched again but he didn’t speak. “How do you know?”

“I met her when I was in high school. Exchange program—I lived with her family.”

Sal scowled. “You
lived
with her? That makes me question everything you say—how am I to know you’re not compromised? And you weren’t in the shadows with Jin’s lover. You were in the shadows with a man. Who was he? Your lover?”

Slice and dice, straight through her heart. Mean words spoken with such anger often meant the person was invested. The subject mattered. The thought hooked a line of hope through Cassie’s chest. “I have been with no man since you, Tore.”

Her words hit center mass. He flinched and drew up, his expression shifting from anger to surprise and back like colliding ice shelves. And in the seconds between his flickering emotions—ones she saw as plain as writing on paper, though someone not as intimately versed on this fierce warrior wouldn’t see it—Cassie stepped into the sliver of an opening in his cracked armor.

“Sal, I was a stupid, self-absorbed girl who was madly in love with you. My actions were egregious. I was desperate and didn’t want to lose you, so I—”

“Sent Vida to her death.”

Cassie felt her chin trembling and fought to stop it. “I…” She wanted to make an excuse. Wanted to say she didn’t really think anything would happen to Vida. But back then, she couldn’t see beyond her blind rage and desperation to get Sal back. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t beg God to forgive me.”

“So you
did
want her to die?” He was searching, digging, a strange pleading expression in his face, as if he didn’t want it to be true.

“I wanted you back. That’s all I could see, all I could think.”

“Even though I hated and blamed you for killing her, there was a part of me that kept saying you didn’t mean to kill her.” His brow knotted. “But you did.” His face twisted with grief. “You PCSed her, got her sent to Helmand to be sure she’d die.”

“No! I moved her away, yes. But not to have her killed. You threw me aside like a rag when she entered that base. If you—”

Hands up, Sal backed away from her.

“Sal—I was twenty-one and—” She gulped the next word, terrified it’d come out.

“I thought I knew you, Cass. I thought I knew…” He shook his head.

Anguish churned through her, drowning in this guilt. Drowning in his loathing. She fought back. Felt the rage welling up. “And what about you, Sal? Were you so great? Cheating on her all those months? Sleeping with me while calling home each weekend?” Tears broke through.

“At least I did what was right in the end. I fixed my mistake.”

“Mistake?”
Her voice shrieked. Cassie couldn’t see for the tears. “Is that what I was? What our—?”

“Walker. Falcon.”

Sal turned toward the voice.

Cassie swiped the tears, turning away.

“Inside. All hands.” It sounded like Captain Watters.

A shudder ripped through her as she heard boots thud and a door click shut. She covered her mouth, fighting back more tears. More grief that she’d almost let the horrible truth out of the bag.
I almost told him about Mila
. But she hadn’t. That was good. If he couldn’t talk to her civilly, he didn’t deserve to know about her. He wouldn’t infiltrate their lives and be a constant sore.

You have to tell him eventually
.

Did she? Why?

Cassie couldn’t think about this. The Army was embroiled in a bitter battle with a powerful enemy. She swiped the tears away and drew in a long, clean breath. Then spun around to head inside.

Icy dread spiraled through her veins as her gaze met Sal’s. He hadn’t left. That meant…

“Why did you name your sister’s daughter Mila?”

Misery wrapped its cruel talons around Cassie’s heart. A lie sat poised on her tongue, ready to lodge in the wall he’d erected between them. But she was tired of fighting. She felt a spurt of her own anger. She didn’t have to answer. She didn’t have to respond, not after the way he’d treated her, tossed her aside, and then acted as if she alone bore guilt in Vida’s death.

But she couldn’t take any more of this bone-draining fighting. “Because she’s not her daughter.” Breath shuddered through her again. “She’s mine.”

Sal frowned. Stepped closer, his breath hot against her cheek as he traced her face. Searching for the answer, no doubt. The answer to the question she could almost hear screaming through his brain. “Why did you give her that name? That was—”

“Our name,” Cassie said, daring him to take her meaning. It wasn’t like they’d talked about having kids, but they both agreed during some silly conversation after meeting someone with an awful name they’d never do that. Somehow, they found common ground, which was easy back then, with the name Mila. He’d even given her a teddy bear and said her name was Mila.

His anger washed away. Confusion replaced it. Thick and vigorous. Questions danced in his eyes.

“When you cut me off, I had no way to contact you. How was I supposed to tell you, Tore?”

His gaze penetrated the only defense she had left. “What… what are you saying?”

“I tried to tell you…” Hot tears streaked down her cheek. “You made me the one thing I vowed I’d never be. The one thing I fought against being.”

“Andra…” He breathed her name, conflict evident in his rugged Italian-Latino features. He shouldered in closer.

“A single mother.”

CHAPTER 19

Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan
2 April—0920 Hours

T
he earth shifted beneath his feet, her words ringing hollowly in his ears. Sal stumbled back, disbelieving. Unable to grab on to those words. How…? Nausea churned through his gut. He’d rather sit in a gas chamber than feel what he felt right now. Than be hit with the sickening truth.

“You were
pregnant
?”

Cassie swallowed and looked away.

Limbs leaden, Sal couldn’t move. “With my baby.” The truth coalesced in his mind. Became something of substance he had to get his head around. “Mila.” He turned away. “And you never told me.”

“You wouldn’t let me tell you.”

Sal spun back to her. “Wouldn’t—”

She held up her hand, nodding. “I should’ve found a way. But you devastated me. I was wrong, Sal. I kept her from you and for a time, I took pleasure in the fact you’d never know how amazing she was—so bright and funny. Such a character. For the first couple of years, I saw her as something you’d never have, a way to punish you for what you did to me.” Cassie shook her head. “But over time, the guilt ate at me. I sought counseling and through years of mentorship, I learned to forgive myself. And you. And to surrender what I did to Vida. And to you.”

“You had my baby and never told me.” It sounded stupid to repeat those words, but it was too unreal. Too unbelievable. “Mila’s… she’s my”—the word was foreign, wrong, weird—“daughter.”

Cassie stood still, sagging.

“Crap, Andra.” Sal threaded his fingers and hooked them over his head. “I can’t believe you kept this—
my own child
!—from me. What were you thinking? How could you do something like this? First you kill Vida—”

“Hey. That’s not fair or accurate.”

“—then you withhold my own flesh and blood from me.” A daughter? How was that possible?

“Don’t do this, Sal. You left me and never looked back. I may bear blame for concealing Mila from you, but you threw me out with the trash when Vida showed up at the base. You didn’t care what happened to me nor did you ask. I tried to contact you, but you severed all communication. You even had your mother tell me to stop calling.” She lifted her chin. “So, I did. And I made the best life I could with Mila.”

He should be angry. And there was some distant part of himself that was, but Cassie was right. He was so afraid his feelings for her would resurface that he’d gone as far as to get a new phone, block her number at home, and ask his mom to tell her to bug off.

It
was
his fault.

Just like Vida. He’d betrayed her by dating Cassie. Broke his promise to her. He cursed again. Not because he was mad but because he didn’t know what else to do. Or say. “This is messed up.” His entire life was messed up.

“She’s a lot like you.”

He considered her, a strange warmth spilling through his chest. A heady sensation in his mind. “She’s… three?”

Cassie’s face went soft as she nodded. “Quite bossy.”

“It’s confidence.” Sal gave a soft snort, shook his head again, and turned away. Roughing a hand over his face, he groaned. “Andra. What… what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Nothing.”

He speared her with a glance.

“You didn’t want to be a part of our lives.”

“That’s unfair.”

This time, she snorted. “Yeah, I know.” Because he’d been unfair to her. “She’s your daughter. I won’t stop you from seeing her. If you want to.”

“I’m a Special Forces operator, Andra. I’m gone nine months out of the year.”

“We can make it work. I’m not asking you to make a commitment to me. But I would like Mila to know her father.”

Father
. Sal considered her. Remembered the firebrand he’d fallen for as soon as he hit Huachuca. “You’ve changed.” She would’ve been in his face, demanding her rights. She could’ve come after him for child support. The Army took that stuff seriously. But she hadn’t said a word.

“I had to,” she answered quietly. “Life wasn’t just about me anymore. I had a baby to provide for.”

Though he wanted to be angry with her, he couldn’t get that round face he’d seen in her picture frame on her desk out of his mind. Curiosity about Mila overrode his sense of injustice. Guilt hung an anchor around his neck. He’d made a mess of things. And in the end, he not only lost Vida, but he lost Cassie and a baby he never knew existed. “I’m sorry.”

Blue eyes widened, her face washing clean of the defensive posture she’d held since their first encounter that week Hawk fled into the mountains.

He owed her that apology. “I had to keep my word to her.”

“I know,” Cassie said, her chin dimpling and her eyes glossing.

“You hate me for it?”

“I did. Once.” She swished her mouth to the side, as if to prevent herself from crying. “But there were too many things against us. And I was drowning in guilt and grief. I had to let it go and raise Mila.”

Curse her—she looked so beautiful in the morning sunlight. Always had. That blond hair like a golden halo. Blue eyes bleeding with sincerity and vulnerability. Drew him in like the sap he was. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

“We’re doing it.” Her smile went all crazy soft again. That kind that made him get stupid one too many times. “It’s what I hoped for.”

Stepping across this line, letting go of his anger—he couldn’t do that to Vida. He couldn’t pretend that didn’t happen. “This doesn’t change things between us, though.”

“Did you love her, Sal?”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s gone—that’s what matters.”

“Is it?” Cassie leaned in, her voice softening. “If she’s gone, why does she hang like a storm in your eyes?”

“Because I got her killed.” The words pounded with each beat of his heart.

“You didn’t! Neither did I.”

“I cheated on her with you, and then you sent Vida to her death because of me. I can’t live with that.”

“Sal, we
didn’t
kill her. I know it feels that way—and for years I believed that. I was wrong, for what I did and in believing that it was my fault she died.”

“If you hadn’t gotten Hammonds to send her to Helmand, she’d be alive.”

“Maybe. Maybe, but not absolutely. Neither of us could’ve predicted she’d die.”