Her Forbidden Hero (15 page)

She kissed his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered simply. “That was incredible.”

He kissed her ear. “I’m speechless, Aly. ‘Incredible’ doesn’t cut it.”

She grinned. “Do you think anyone noticed we were out here so long?”

“I hope so,” he said. “Maybe the guys will all take a hint now.”

She scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“Only that they all suspect you’re as great as I know you are. Come on, I’m starving now.” He gave her a last kiss, grasped her hand, and led her through the deeper water back to shore.

Alyssa felt like she could’ve lit up a small city with her happiness. That things still felt normal and easy between them was everything she’d hoped.

He reached their towels first and tossed her shirt at her. “Put this on, will ya?”

She made a face at him. “I’m all wet.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, a smug smile on his face.The expression was sexy as hell, not that she was going to tell him that.

“I need to get something from the car. Be right back.” He kissed her cheek, a quick brush of lips on skin that sent her heart flying.

She gently shook the sand out of her towel, glad the sun could explain away the heat suddenly infusing her cheeks, then dried off enough to slip the shirt on over her suit.

He bumped arms with her when he returned, the hint of a crooked smile on his lips.

She gestured to her shirt. “Better?”

He grinned, and it was that old Marco smile she loved. “For my sanity? Yes.”

She held out a hand to him. “Come on, funny man, let’s eat.”

…

Marco spent the dinner service riding an emotional roller coaster. Acting on whatever his feelings were for Alyssa had taken him into the heavens. She was passionate and honest, giving and playful. Totally open to life and experience, willing to try anything, do anything. Her very presence was both exhilarating and comforting. And if making out in the water had been that explosive, he could only imagine what it would be like to take her to his bed.

But then his conscience told him it should never have happened. Jesus, he’d behaved like a horny teenager without a care in the world, and he’d had to hightail it over to Betty to clean up the mess afterward. It could never happen again. And that was a double kick in the gut because of the way Alyssa had been looking at him since the moment they’d gotten out of the water. And everybody they worked with saw it.

By the end of the night, Marco had just about talked himself down from his high, and his heart felt darker than normal for having had the fleeting experience of happiness in her arms. He followed her home like he always did but kept on driving when she pulled in front of the house. God, he didn’t even know what she might be expecting at this point, but he was sure it wasn’t his usual disappearing act. He imagined her disappointment and anger and mirrored those emotions back at himself. He’d definitely made things worse.

Marco merged onto the interstate with no particular destination in mind. He just needed the distraction of speed and the roar of the wind through the car. He analyzed the situation from every conceivable angle but the amazing chemistry and connection between them did nothing to fix all the reasons being with her was so wrong. Foremost among them was that the weight of his guilt, his grief, his self-loathing—his living hell—would ruin her. And he could never inflict such emotional violence on someone as innocent and trusting as Alyssa Scott.

And then it struck him. What if she never had to know?

The thought was such a revelation that Marco had to pull off at the next exit. On the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, he paced back and forth in the glow of the Mustang’s headlights. Maybe he could give her the Marco she wanted, the Marco he used to be.

She didn’t have to know the details of what happened in Afghanistan, nor how it had shredded him inside. He didn’t have to share the disappointment and fear and loss that flowed through his veins. He could be the Marco he’d been at the lake today, laid-back and social and affectionate. He wouldn’t have to act to convince her of those things, either. Alyssa made him
want
to be better, want to be
everything
, for her. Remembering the return of decent sleep and the decline in frequency of his nightmares, Marco was willing to believe that, before too long, the other parts of him might begin to heal as well. And then maybe he wouldn’t have to act at all.

The problem of Brady’s approval flitted through his mind, but Marco was suddenly so high on hope and relief that he easily pushed the concern away.

Back in the car again, Marco barreled out onto the highway and gunned it for home. Now that he’d found a way to let himself have the comfort and pleasure of Alyssa’s love, he couldn’t stand being separated from her. It took forever to retrace the twenty miles he’d aimlessly driven, but before long he was parking the car, running up the front steps, and coming home to his Alyssa.

The house was quiet. His stomach dropped in disappointment. It was pushing two o’clock in the morning, but that didn’t diminish his yearning to hold and touch her. He stepped into her room—perhaps soon to be
their
room—and seriously considered waking her. When had he last felt this rush of anticipation and contentment?

Alyssa lay sleeping on her stomach, her face toward him. He stroked silky strands of hair off her face, but she didn’t stir. And then he remembered the dark circles, and her bloodshot eyes.

Guilt pooled in his gut. She’d finally managed the good, restful sleep she’d needed this past week. No way he could wake her, no matter how eager he was to claim her as his own.

Morning was only a few hours away. He’d just have to wait.

Resolved, he made quick work of changing and preparing his bed, but he found himself too keyed up to contemplate laying down and being still. He returned to the kitchen for a bottle of water and the blinking red light on the answering machine caught his attention. He adjusted the volume and hit play.

Brady. Calling via the world’s worst telephone connection. The majority of the short message was too soft or too crackly to understand, and Marco couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
Nuh uh. Not a chance, world
. If he could find a way to work around the gigantic mess inside his head, he could find a way to win over Brady. Hell, if he played this right, he’d be able to prove to Brady that he deserved her. That he was worthy.

Marco’s stomach gave a nervous twinge at the thought of going around his best friend, but he just took a long swig of water and decided not to think too closely about its meaning.

He eventually gave in to the lure of sleep and collapsed on the futon. He turned this way and that, fought with the covers, and couldn’t seem to find a position where his arm didn’t ache. Goddammit.

Once he managed to drift off, he found himself right back in his own special corner of hell. The compound was typical. Mud walls surrounded an outer court. The house inside was square, also built of mud. In the very center would be an interior court where the women worked. The traditional nature of the housing made it more predictable.

Something about the yard bothered him, but it was just nerves. His intelligence was good. Checked and double-checked. Months of work had gone into this moment, but it would be worth it when Wentworth was back with them where he belonged. Undercover missions were so damn iffy, and Wentworth had stayed at it a day too long. Their team was about to fix that.

Unease sank through his gut. He couldn’t place his finger on the source of his discomfort. Probably just the adrenaline rush. Or the anticipation of doing the job. Or the sweltering sun.

The twelve-man team moved in, Brady just behind Marco. Over the ridge. Behind scrub. Into a ditch. They met no resistance.

His heart sprinted in his chest.

No. Nonono
. Marco thrashed, cursing himself.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m here.”

Marco frowned, then gasped. Alyssa. Alyssa was…here? His gaze tore across the scrub to the compound. Oh, no. Oh, God, no. She couldn’t be in there.

“Alyssa,” he called. If he didn’t stay quiet, they’d hear him, but he couldn’t restrain himself. If anything happened to her…

“I’m right here, Marco. You’re all right.” Her cool, soft hand stroked over his brow and into his hair.

Marco turned toward the touch, completely confused about how he could be feeling her, but needing her like a starving man needs a buffet.

The compound disappeared, and there was only that soothing touch. And then that, too, disappeared.

Marco didn’t want to wake up. When it had finally come, the sleep had been so damn good, he wanted as much of it as his body would give him. He turned onto his side, encountering a delicious warmth that called to him until he craved more. His fingers found skin and in his mind’s eye, he smiled. Oh, yeah. He liked this kind of dream a helluva lot more.

Something tickled his nose. And again. He wanted to brush it away but couldn’t move his hand. What the hell?

His eyes creaked open and for a long moment, Marco was unable to figure out where he was or…who he was with. A pile of long chocolate hair brushed his stomach and covered one hand. His other was…

“Alyssa?” He shook her. “Aly?” He raised his voice. “Aly!”

Alyssa flew into a sitting position and struggled to focus her gaze in the early morning light. Her hair fell over her face and she pushed it back.
Oh, crap
. How the heck was she going to explain this?

An array of emotions whipped across Marco’s face too quickly for her to decipher. “What do you think you’re doing?” The words came out in a clipped staccato.

She opened and closed her mouth, unable to find an explanation he’d believe, one that wouldn’t reveal what she knew. “I, uh…” Her eyes skittered around him, avoiding the blazing blue of his gaze. “I’ll just—” She withdrew her hand from his.

Marco grabbed it, his fingers holding her wrist. “No. Not before you tell me why you were…what? Sleeping half on the floor…with me?” He tripped over the final two words.

“I…I…don’t know. It’s no big deal.” She attempted a smile that felt completely unconvincing.

His eyes narrowed. “What’s not a big deal?” He studied her like he might find the answer on her face.

Alyssa looked away, busying herself with stretching out her legs. Her right calf was half asleep from how she’d been sitting on it. Or, rather, how
long
she’d been sitting on it.
Way to go, Aly. You
knew
you couldn’t fall asleep.

He pressed a finger against the red mark on her calf. Alyssa gasped as the pressure exacerbated the pins and needles.

He sucked in a breath. “You’re why…”

She chanced a glance. He gaped down at her, an expression that was part disgust and part anger twisting his face. Maybe she was dealing with this the wrong way. She should just be honest and have the conversation she’d wanted to have these past few days. “Look, Marco, it’s okay.”

“That’s what you said in my d-dr—” He flew off the futon and glared down at her. “You had no fucking right.”

Alyssa felt the blood drain from her face and she went lightheaded. Never in her entire life had Marco Vieri talked to or looked at her that way. Like he couldn’t stand the sight of her. She pushed herself to sit on the futon, not yet able to stand while the room spun around her but not wanting to sit on the floor for this, either. “Marco—”

“No. It’s one thing for me to let you into my house. It’s another for you to try to get into my head.”

“That’s not—”

“You said you didn’t want to invade my space. But invading my privacy is worse,” he barked. Mumbling under his breath, his tone exasperated and bitter, he paced in front of her. “You knew. All this time, and here I thought, I thought…” His lips twisted. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I can’t even…”

Finally, she stood, her hands clutched across her front to try to hold in the little warmth left inside her. “I’m sorry, Marco. I didn’t mean anything—”

“You never do, do you? You just do your thing with no regard to the con—” He seemed to struggle to swallow. “Consequences.”

She clutched her ribs harder, fighting to warm herself against his frigid tone and accusations. “What does that mean?”

“What kind of attention did you think you were going to get in that outfit the other day, huh? And giving Eric your phone number. Parading around in that bikini and hanging all over him. What did you expect to come of that?”

“What?” Tears stung her eyes. She’d hugged Eric once when they were leaving. The only one she’d wanted to hang on was Marco, but she’d resisted, since she wasn’t sure where they stood. But after what they’d shared in the lake, this was what he thought of her? Her dreams shattered against the hardwood floor and her stomach tossed. God, she was going to be sick.

“You couldn’t just fucking leave well enough alone, could you?”

Her head spun. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes scanned her face over and over, his mouth set in a carved scowl that turned his features harsh and foreign. He pointed at the futon. “How long has this b-bullshit been going on?”

She swallowed down the sour taste flooding her mouth. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“I was just trying to help,” she said, her voice cracking.

He scoffed. “
You
were trying to help
me
? The girl who’s needed help her whole life? Jesus, Alyssa, if you were any more helpless, we’d have to call in a professional.”

She took one step, then another. Away from him. Away from the ugliness of his words. Away from the shards of her heart that lay all over the floor. Tears constricted her throat. “Stop this, Marco. This isn’t you.”

“Oh, because you know me so well, do you? Grow the fuck up.”

Alyssa shook her head, sending a hot tear spilling down her cheek. Shock and heartbreak had stolen her words. She looked at him one last time, then turned and left the room.