The Edge of Courage (Red Team) (20 page)

“I will not. I can’t leave him like that. You saw how he was.”

Blade’s face was like stone, his gray eyes emotionless. “He needs time to process things. He has to think it through, has to accept his son is dead. When he does, I honestly believe the nightmares, all this crazy shit he’s going through, will get better.”

“Leave him to it, Mandy,” Kit bit out.

Mandy picked up her oil and the towel Ty had used, then left the room. Her hands shook as she put the lotion away and the towel in the laundry. She heard Kit and Blade in quiet conversation as she took the two strays for their last potty break of the day.

She closed the back door and stood in the cool night air as the dogs saw to their needs. Folding her arms around her middle, she let her pain break free. She dropped down to the top step and wept for Rocco, for his son, his wife. He was like the wind. She could no more stop or redirect or soothe him than she could a tornado.

God, he had a son. Believing his boy was still alive, he must be going insane with worry. No wonder he was so broken. Had his boy been in the explosion with him? Had he been injured, too? Was he dead as Kit and Blade thought? She didn’t doubt they’d scoured the countryside for his son. And she didn’t doubt that Rocco still felt a connection to him. Her heart ached for all of them.

“Hey.” Mandy heard Kit behind her. “Want some company?”

Mandy shrugged. He would stay no matter what she said. She moved to make room for him, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her wrist as she did so.

“I’m sorry about that. I guess you didn’t know about his son.”

She shook her head as she tightened her arms about her waist. “What other secrets does he have, Kit? What other things don’t I know about him?”

“I don’t know, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be my place to tell you. I can tell you he’s a good guy. He’s someone who understands the arcane nuances that define a culture, a people. That makes him dangerous and effective as an undercover operative. Did you know he’s a linguistic savant?”

Mandy looked at her brother. She sniffled and nodded. “You asked him to work for Owen’s company, didn’t you?”

“I did. He’s very good at what we do. It takes a long time to train an operative. Even discounting Rocco’s linguistic skill, he isn’t easily replaceable.”

“What are you guys? Why would you be sent to kill Rocco?”

From the look Kit gave her, she could tell he was considering his words. “We’re an elite unit of soldiers. That’s all I can tell you. We’re allowed to quit or retire, but if any of our own were to go off-grid, one of us would be sent after him.”

“He’s broken, Kit. I don’t think he can do what you need him to do.”

“You ever hear of getting back in the saddle, sis?”

“There’s a time and place for that, Kit. This may not be it. He isn’t whole yet. I’ve seen him crash.” She shook her head and looked away. “I don’t know what would happen if he were to break all the way.”

* * *

A noise roused Mandy from sleep hours later. The room was dark. She felt like a kid again, waking when Grandpa rose early to run the plow. He’d give her a sip of sweet coffee from his Thermos, then send her back to bed. He’d grown crops on the lower plateaus—corn, wheat, alfalfa—to supplement their income, and spent many long days in the spring and summer working his two jobs.

She laid in bed now, remembering her Grandma in the kitchen, getting breakfast started on those early mornings. In her sleep-hazed mind, all was right in the world. As she woke, memory faded and reality settled around her like a thousand blankets—dark, heavy, and suffocating.

She reached out to the mattress beside her, searching for Rocco. He wasn’t there. Had he come to bed at all? She remembered his revelation about his son and his intent to return to Afghanistan to search for him, a thought that filled Mandy with dread.

She went to the window and spread the curtains. Someone was in the far pasture, standing in the headlights of the tractor. Rocco. He was using the fence post jack to hoist the old metal posts out of the ground. The clock read 2:00 a.m. She drew a hoodie on over her long sleeping tee, leaving it unzipped, then shoved her feet into her work boots. She knew she looked ridiculous but didn’t care.

She made a beeline for Rocco with the dogs close at her heels, crossing the first field to get to the far pasture.

“Rocco.” He didn’t respond, just kept working the jack to yank the post out of the hard ground. When the post came free, he tossed it down and set the jack over the next one a few feet away.

“Rocco!” He ignored her as he began jacking the post. “Rocco, listen to me!” she said, stepping into the tractor headlights, touching his shoulder. He shrugged her off.

“Leave me, Mandy.”

“No. Rocco, don’t do this. Stop.”

The jack freed the post. He threw it aside and moved to the next post, shoving the jack handle hard for several pumps.

“Rocco—”

“Jesus, Em. What do you want me to do? I can’t sleep—there’s no fucking way I’m gonna lie down and let the nightmares eat at me. You’d think I’d lost my mind again if I took off jogging for a few hours. You don’t want me to sit up, sit still, sit quietly, and let the night pass. I can’t go to bed and just hold you because I can’t be near you without wanting to fuck you. And that shit ain’t happening because you’re not ready for it and I’m not staying. I’m not staying, Em, and likely I won’t make it back. So I’m not doing you any favors by letting you think we have chance. Because we don’t. Not a single goddamned chance in hell.”

The headlights illuminated the angry twist of his features, the fury and anguish in his eyes. He moved to the next post. She didn’t know what to say. What was there to say? There was nothing he wanted to hear, nothing he would listen to. His hurt was so far beyond her reach, there was no aid she could render.

She felt empty inside. And very, very alone. She started back for the house, her heart ripping apart with each step. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rocco straighten. Metal clinked as he threw the latest post like a spear on top of other ones.

Rocco cursed. “What do you want from me, Mandy?” She didn’t stop. She didn’t know how to answer that question so she said nothing.

“He lives,” Rocco shouted. “My son is not goddamned dead. He lives, Mandy.” His broken cry stopped her. She looked at him standing with his shoulders slumped, his gloved hands empty, his heart laid bare in the bright headlights of her old tractor.

She started back for him, walking, then running. She leaped into his arms. He caught her up, held her in a vice grip as he buried his face in her neck and wept. She cried, too, as she stroked his hair. His sobs were ragged, broken, keening, so filled with pain she thought her own heart would rupture.

Eventually, he grew quiet. She pulled back and looked at him. His eyes were searching her face, looking for answers she didn’t have. She kissed his cheek, the corner of his mouth, pausing there, waiting for him to accept or reject what she was offering. He pressed her face into his, slowing his breathing to match hers. When a ragged breath broke free, he interrupted it by taking her mouth. She became his entire focus. He bent his head to fit his mouth against hers as his tongue swept inside to find hers.

Gradually, Rocco became aware of other things about them, the heat of her body against his, desire swelling, consuming him. He ran a hand down her back, over her bottom. He cupped her buttocks, lifted her against himself, moving them out of the headlights.

“Open for me. Wrap your legs around me.” When Mandy locked her ankles around his hips, he groaned. She laughed against his mouth. Laughed. The sound did something to his insides. Tied him up, set him free. He didn’t know, only that he wanted more of it, more of her and her joy. He lifted her higher and rocked himself against her, feeling the ridge of his erection move against her core, registering a oneness with himself, with the world, with this woman he’d never felt before. And still he wanted more, wanted all of her.

He drew his gloves off his hands with his teeth, switching the hands beneath her bottom as he removed the other one. “I want to be in you, Mandy.”

“Yes,” she answered, her mouth against his.

“Open my pants. Take me out. Let me in.” She did as he ordered, flicking the button loose on his pants, unzipping his fly. The pressure of her hand on that part of his clothing was almost enough to unman him. He jerked hard against her touch. And then he felt her fingers in the waistband of his briefs, inside them, finding him, grasping him.

He tossed his head back and dragged a deep breath into his lungs. And then he was kissing her again, eating her mouth, hungering for more. More. He dragged the hem of her nightshirt free, baring her core. Now only her panties separated them. He didn’t want to set her down long enough to have her remove them. With her legs still locked around his hips, he held her bottom with one hand and pushed the lacy covering aside, then slid his fingers into her sweet folds. She was wet, ready.

“Love me, Mandy.”

“I do. I do, Rocco.”

“Put me in you. Do it now.” He watched as she moved slightly, positioning him. He lifted her, let her own their coupling. She slid him inside her, slowly, slowly, until he was fully seated. It felt so good. He gritted his teeth, aching for her, throbbing, needing to break free. He held her hips and began pumping himself into her, feeling every inch of his cock slide in and out of her warmth.

She kissed him, moaning into his mouth. Their tongues danced and pressed against each other, sliding and retreating as his cock worked her sheath. He gripped her with one hand again as he freed a hand to touch her curls, her clitoris. He gently pressed the swollen nub, feeling her tighten around his cock.

And then her legs tightened, and then she was bucking against him, pressing, pleading for more, her small muscles gripping him, squeezing. He gave it to her, gave her all of himself. Holding her with both hands, he pumped all the way into her, out fast and in hard. Again. And again until he met his release.

He continued holding her until the last echoes of passion faded from them. “Rocco, take me to bed. If you can’t sleep, I know we can find better ways to spend the time than having you out here working, or running for miles, or sitting awake in a chair.” She cupped his face and smiled at him. “Yes?”

He smiled back at her, wondering at his incredible good fortune to have a woman like Mandy in his life. God, he hoped he made it back to her. “Yes,” he answered. “Yes.”

He set her on her feet, then righted himself. He climbed into the tractor seat and shut it down. They walked slowly back to the house, arms around each other. Mandy waited under the covers while Rocco showered. He drew his briefs on, then got into bed next to her. He lifted his arm and waited for her to scoot close to him.

“Why haven’t you gone back to Afghanistan yet?”

He sighed. “I need to get my head on straight before heading back. And I have to remember what happened the day of the explosion. Afghanistan is a deadly place, full of mines and scorpions, snipers and assassins. I have to be fully engaged. The explosion was almost four months ago, now. When Kit had me extracted, it was by force. I was broken. I’d become more Afghan than American. I didn’t want to be taken out. I wanted to stay and search for Zavi. I honestly cannot remember my first two weeks back stateside. They brought me back in restraints, heavily sedated. For the next ten weeks, they had me on a dozen different kinds of meds, trying to find the right ones that would numb my emotions, help me sleep, wake me up, enhance my appetite, calm my anxieties. I was fucked all the hell sideways.

“The only way I could get out of there was to settle down, eat whatever they gave me, pretend to sleep. I knew they watched me sleep. I would fake REM sleep cycles but stay awake. If they saw me having nightmares, I wouldn’t have been released. I went to the therapy sessions. I listened when I was expected to, lied when I was expected to talk.

“Eventually, they thought I was recovered enough to be discharged. I went home, or at least, I went to the ranch where I grew up. My mom had died while I was in training, so there was no one there for me, no reason to stay. The rancher she worked for retired to Florida. The ranch had folded. No one was there. Just the wind and dust.

“And then Kit asked me to come here.” He paused, looking at her. The moonlight caught a shimmer of tears in her eyes. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Mandy.” He looked at her. “It’s because of you that I can eat, can touch someone when I need to. I’m even sleeping better. I’m almost ready to go back. But I want to see you safe before I go. And I still need to remember what happened that day.”

Mandy reached over to grip his hand, threading her fingers through his. She lifted them and brought them to her mouth. “You go when you have to go, Rocco. And you come back when you can. I will be waiting here for you. Do you understand me? This is your home. You belong here. When you find your son, you bring him home. I’ll redo my old room in trucks and Transformers and Spiderman for him.”

“His name is Zaviyar.”

“I like that name.” She grew pensive. “Do you think he could be happy here?”

“He’ll love it. He’ll love you.” He pulled his hand free of hers so that he could cup the back of her head, letting his thumb stroke her cheek. “Thank you for believing that he’s alive.”

“I believe in you, Rocco. You’ll find him, and you’ll bring him home. Or you’ll find his grave, and then we’ll know.”

Chapter 14

Rocco came to an abrupt stop when he entered the kitchen side door the next morning. None of the guys had been up when he left to feed Kitano, but they were gathered in the living room now. Seeing him, they grew silent.

A blast of tension sheered through him. He had no doubt this little gathering had something to do with what he’d revealed last night. He walked into the living room, confronting the group of sober-faced men. He looked from Kit to Blade, then Owen and the others.

Owen broke the silence. “Kit told me about your intentions to go back to Afghanistan to find your son.”