Heat of the Moment (15 page)

“Mmm, delicious,” Holly declared, finishing half of her sandwich and pushing the rest away. “I can’t eat another bite.”

Shane paused in the middle of taking a hefty swig from a bottle of chilled beer and frowned at her. “You’re done?”

“I’m stuffed.”

“You hardly touched it.”

Holly laughed. “It was a huge sandwich! I’m not built like you and I don’t need that much food.”

Shane let his gaze drift lazily over her, taking in every curve. She was taller than most women, just a few inches shorter than himself, with long legs and an ass that had driven him nuts back when he was a teenager. He’d spent more hours than he cared to recall imagining those legs wrapped around him while he cupped her sweet ass in his hands. The reality had completely eclipsed his fantasies. Just thinking of how she’d clung to him that morning had him growing hard for her again.

“Personally, I’m glad that you’re not built like me,” he said, “although I don’t think you eat enough. Especially considering the calories you’ve burned over the past couple of days.”

Just like that, the atmosphere in the kitchen changed, became charged with an undercurrent of electricity. He watched with interest as warm color crept up from under the collar of her shirt and stained her neck pink.

“I could stand to lose a few pounds,” she said breathlessly, her eyes fastened on him as if she expected him to pounce.

Shane pushed his empty plate to one side, silently acknowledging that he was still hungry, only not for food. “You lose any weight and I’ll force feed you MREs. You’re perfect.”

He referred to the premade meals that the troops ate when in combat. They were designed to pack as many calories and nutrients as possible into each serving. Shane had eaten more of them during his deployments than he cared to remember.

Now he watched Holly’s color deepen. He could have continued—he loved to see her flustered and unsure of herself—but stacking the dishes in the sink, he decided to give her a break. “I’m going to give the sheriff a call and see if they have any more to report on the intruder.” He was actually a little irritated that he hadn’t heard from the sheriff before now. He wanted to know just who the man was, and why he’d singled out the Durant house for his crimes. But what he really wanted was to find out if the guy was working alone or if, as he’d suggested, he was part of a bigger circle of thugs who had a death warrant out for Holly.

He wondered, too, if the bastard was somehow connected to the Martinez investigation, although Holly had assured him that there was no way the supply clerk could know he was being investigated. Even when Holly had requested he be moved from Al Asad Air Base to Camp Fallujah, he’d apparently been told it was just a routine rotation. In fact, Holly’s commanding officer had been the one to deliver the news to him in order not to arouse his suspicions. Still, what other explanation could there be? There was something about the entire scenario that nagged at him, and it irritated and frustrated him not to be able to pinpoint it.

Shane stepped onto the deck and closed the doors behind him, unwilling for Holly to hear his conversation, and punched in the number for the sheriff.

“We still have him in custody,” the sheriff reported, “but he’s not talking. He has no ID on him, and he’s not coming up on any of our databases.”

“Give me fifteen minutes alone with the son of a bitch, and I guarantee you he’ll talk,” Shane all but growled into the phone.

The sheriff laughed, but even over the phone, Shane heard the uneasiness in his voice. “That may work on detainees in Iraq and Afghanistan,” he said, “but it won’t work here. We’re going to do this the legitimate way.”

Shane blew out a hard breath. “Does he have a lawyer?”

“The court will appoint a public defender for him.” The sheriff paused. “We have him on breaking and entering with a dangerous weapon, but we have no evidence that he was responsible for tampering with the boat motor, or that he fired that hunting rifle.”

“But you know it was him, right?” There was silence, and Shane gave a disbelieving laugh. “It had to have been him. And what about his threat of sending in more thugs to finish the job?”

“Don’t get riled up, son. I’m not saying we don’t have reasonable cause to put this guy away, but it may be that he’s here illegally from south of the border. In which case, the court may simply decide to deport him, rather than incarcerate him.”

“Deport him where? Back to Mexico?” He couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice. “Because that’s not good enough, Sheriff. If he came into this country illegally once, what’s to prevent him from doing it again? To my way of thinking, Mexico isn’t far enough. I want this guy sent to fucking Siberia.”

“I understand your frustration, I really do. We had two visitors this morning who were also interested in your intruder.”

Shane knew he referred to the investigators from the Inspector General’s office. “I’m guessing they didn’t have any luck getting him to talk, either.”

“No, but it’s an interesting theory that this guy could be an accomplice to the supply clerk being investigated. If we could ID the guy, we’d know a lot more.”

Shane sighed. “Okay. I’m going to bring Holly back to Chatham tomorrow morning and have her stay with her parents. But I want your assurance that you’ll contact the Chatham police department and have them send a detail to cover the house.”

“I’ll call Chief Wright myself and have him set it up.”

Shane disconnected the call, feeling more frustrated than before. He couldn’t ever recall this total sense of helplessness. Not even when his dad had lost both his job and the house and had descended into a booze-sodden depression for two years. At least then, Shane had been able to do something. He’d managed to keep his father alive, and had even taken his high school GED so that social services couldn’t remove him from his dad’s life.

But in this case, he had no control and no influence. For the first time, he wished that he’d joined a special operations detachment, or had chosen to become an officer. At least then, he’d have some ability to collect information or to exert influence in order to get the answers he needed. But as things stood now, he was completely dependent upon whatever the sheriff chose to share with him.

He heard the door open behind him and turned to watch Holly join him on the deck. She walked past him and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the railing and stare out at the lake. “I’ve always loved coming out here,” she said. “This has always been my happy place, where I feel most comfortable.” She angled her head and looked at him over her shoulder. “Chatham is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it always feels a little constrained. Like a corset. This place is…freedom. You can breathe here.”

Shane smiled at her analogy, since he knew exactly what she meant. Even though his father had found a good job in Chatham, at one of the best stables in the county, he’d never felt completely welcomed. He knew that most of the town considered him to be little more than riffraff, and only tolerated him because his father was so gifted with horses. That was part of the reason he’d left to join the military. He couldn’t stand the sidelong glances and whispered musings about his past. Only the Durants had never questioned his background, accepting him into their home without any reservations. He wondered if they would have opened their doors to him then, if they’d known how badly he’d wanted their daughter.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said darkly. “A sniper could drop you like a deer.”

Holly turned and leaned against the rail and regarded him solemnly. “You don’t believe this guy acted alone. You think there’s someone else involved, don’t you?”

Shane recalled again what the intruder had said; that there were others who would come to finish what he’d started. Had he been telling the truth, or just bluffing? He blew out a hard breath of frustration and scrubbed a hand over his hair.

“Honestly? I don’t know what to think. But until we know who this guy is and what his motives are, I think we need to be practical. Now come inside.”

His voice brooked no argument, and Holly didn’t argue when he indicated that she should precede him back indoors. Only when the doors were locked and the blinds drawn closed did he relax a little.

“I just got off the phone with the sheriff and he said the son of a bitch isn’t talking. They have no ID on him, and he doesn’t show up in any of their databases. The sheriff has some reason to believe he’s here illegally from Mexico, in which case the courts will probably deport him.”

Holly looked puzzled. “So who is this guy? And what possible motive could he have for breaking into this house and threatening me?” She hugged herself around the middle. “It makes no sense. But you’re right. I’ll feel better once we’re back in Chatham. I love this place, but right now it gives me the creeps.”

Shane drew her into his arms and rubbed his hands over her back, relieved that she didn’t argue the point. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Holly burrowed closer. “Do the police think the guy has an accomplice?”

“Yes,” Shane acknowledged with reluctance. “But only because they haven’t found a car or the gun used in the shooting. Until we can tie the other two incidents back to him, there’s no way to guarantee he isn’t working alone. I’m sorry. I know you were hoping we could stay here for three weeks, but until we get to the bottom of whatever is going on, I think we need to take a rain check.”

“I’ll do whatever you think is best,” she assured him, hugging him. “If you think I should go home, I’ll go.”

Shane struggled to control his emotions. “The police in Chatham can do a better job protecting you at your parents’ house than the sheriff can do here on the lake. The property is too big, too isolated.”

“What will we tell my parents?”

“We’ll tell them the truth. Your father will want you under his roof.” His arms tightened around her. “I couldn’t live with myself if I let something happen to you. Again.”

Holly was quiet for a long moment. “What about our three weeks?”

“I’ll give you your three weeks,” Shane promised grimly, his chin on top of her sleek head. “Maybe it’ll have to be one weekend at a time, or over the course of the next year, but I promise I will give you three weeks. Hell, I’ll give you all the time you want if you’ll just go to Chatham.”

Tipping her face up to his, Holly smiled. “That sounds suspiciously like a commitment, Sgt. Rafferty.”

Shane realized she was right; he was making a commitment to her. He’d spent the past eight years trying to convince himself that he was no good for her, but being with Holly Durant felt right, like he’d finally come home. The very thought of anything happening to her made him go a little wobbly through the knees. He was crazy about her. He had been since before the night of her graduation party, and he would give his own life to keep her safe.

“I should be committed,” he said wryly, “to think I can order a woman like you to do anything.”

“But you could,” she said softly, placing her hands on either side of his face and drawing him down for a kiss. “You might be surprised at the orders I’d be willing to follow.”

Shane smiled against her mouth, acknowledging that he definitely liked the sound of
that.

Recalling
everything.

The memories crashed over him and as if in Technicolor detail, he replayed the horrific events. Since the day that Holly had arrived at Al Asad Air Base, he’d made it a point to know where she was at any given time. He’d lost sleep thinking about what might happen to her if he wasn’t around to watch over her.

When he’d learned that Holly intended to accompany a supply convoy to Fallujah Air Base, he’d immediately volunteered to ride with the security detail. There was no way he’d have been able to remain behind and not know if she was safe. Now, with his heartbeat still uneven, he remembered why he had abandoned his turret gun, and the memory made his knees go a little weak. Yes, he’d seen Holly exit her truck and make her way alongside the convoy. He’d seen when the IED had caused the truck to explode, sending her sprawling on her face in the dirt. But what had caused him to disregard protocol and training had nothing to do with the enemy insurgents.

He had seen what nobody else had; her own guy, behind her, his automatic rifle at first aimed toward the orchard where the enemy hid. But as Holly had worked her way along the line of trucks, Sgt. Martinez had turned his weapon and aimed it at her back. Shane had seen the expression on the other man’s face and had known in that instant that he intended to kill Holly. Shane hadn’t had a clear shot at the bastard because Holly was directly in his line of fire, so he’d done the only thing he could; he’d leapt down from the MRAP and sprinted toward her, intent on saving her.

The rest was still a little hazy, but he was certain the bullet that had shattered Holly’s arm had been delivered by Martinez. He was also certain that when that bullet had failed to kill her, the soldier had lobbed one of his own grenades, but in his panic, had seriously overthrown it. Shane had been on the perimeter of the impact zone and had suffered some serious wounds, but it could have been worse.

Both he and Holly could have been killed.

The bastard had tried to frag her, a term used when a soldier assassinated a superior officer. The most common method of fragging was with a grenade or similar device. The advantage to the killer was that he could claim the grenade had been thrown during the heat of battle and had landed too close to the victim, resulting in their “accidental” death. Or the killer could claim that another soldier had thrown the device, or even that it had been lobbed by the enemy. Since the grenade itself would be destroyed during the explosion, there was no way to trace the device back to a specific soldier. If done properly, it was the perfect crime.

Only this soldier hadn’t perfected his aim, and Holly hadn’t died. Shane recalled the face of the man who had broken into the lake house. There was a connection between Martinez and the intruder. He felt it in his gut. They were somehow working together in Martinez’s scheme to defraud the government.

Looking at Holly as she slept, he knew what he had to do next. He’d bring Holly to her parents’ house and then he’d travel to Washington and pay a visit to the Inspector General’s office and make a statement about what had happened that day in Iraq. With luck, the investigators would discover a connection between Martinez and the intruder, and stop the threat to Holly once and for all.