The Edge of Courage (Red Team) (6 page)

Mandy ran from the bathroom and out the small bunkhouse. She closed the door behind her, her heart slamming against her ribs as she stared at the raw wood. What the heck had just happened? What was wrong with Rocco? Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered the look of sheer terror on his face. What had he been seeing? Had he flashed back to the war?

She stared at the house a long moment, then decided she needed to wait for him. She sat in the old metal porch chair. Folding her legs in front of her, she realized she still held the first-aid kit. She dropped it onto the side table and wrapped her arms around her legs. The shower ran for a long time. Fifteen minutes. Thirty. Forty-five. The small water heater had to have run out of hot water long ago. At last, the faucet shut off. She heard footsteps.

The door opened. Rocco came out, peeling his wet T-shirt over his head. He mopped his face with it, then leaned his forehead against a wooden support beam. His jeans and socks were soaking. He hadn’t even removed his belt. Mandy didn’t say a word. She held perfectly still, wishing she’d run home every bit as much as she knew she needed to stay.

Something must have alerted him to her presence. He turned abruptly. His nipples were puckered in the cold evening air. His skin had a bluish tint to it. Her gaze slowly lifted to his face and the rage rapidly gathering there.

“I told you to leave.”

She showed him the first-aid kit. “I ran out with the kit. I still haven’t fixed your hand.”

“Fuck. You’re not going to leave it alone, are you?”

Mandy unfolded her legs and crossed to where he stood. She didn’t acknowledge his temper. She knew she had to work fast. She opened the kit, fished out two butterfly bandages, then stuck them on his ripped skin. “Now, go inside and put dry clothes on. When did you last eat?”

He shrugged, glaring at her.

“Go get dressed. You’re freezing out here.”

He entered the cabin, not bothering to close the door. Mandy stood with her back to the door, fighting the temptation to let her gaze follow him into the shadows of the bunkhouse. If he didn’t dress and present himself in short order, he’d be in for a battle the likes of which he wouldn’t be expecting. She folded her arms in front of her.

The porch creaked behind her. She saw Rocco standing there. He’d pulled a fresh T-shirt on, a dry pair of jeans and his combat boots. He propped a shoulder against the doorjamb. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body. His face was lean, his cheeks unshaved, his expression edgy. He looked like a wolf after a long, harsh winter.

“What now, boss lady?”

“Now you’re coming up to the house. I’m going to get some food in you.”

“I’m not feeling much like company right now. And I ain’t hungry.”

“Neither am I. But you’re going to eat, so help me God. If I have to grind up that supper and spoon feed you, I will.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t put it past me.” She waved him toward the stairs. “Get the tray and let’s go.”

He stepped inside the bunkhouse and came back with the tray, which he handed to her. “Run on home, little girl, and leave me alone.”

Mandy held the tray in one hand and set the other hand on her hip. “Listen, soldier boy, I hired you to do a job, one you can’t very well do if you’re starving yourself. Now get out here and come up to the house with me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “’Soldier boy?’”

“You heard me.”

“No one ever teach you to cuss?”

“I don’t think bad language improves a tense situation.” She pressed her lips together.

“You’re wrong there, honey. Nothing expresses rage like a string of foul words.”

“Rage?” She looked at him. “Or fear?

“Or that.” He shoved his hands into his front pockets. She took his wrist and began leading him toward the main house.

He took one step, watching his arm where her hand touched his skin. Two steps. He didn’t want her to see the blood and flesh stuck to him. The grisly debris would appear. It always did when someone touched him. She would see it. It would take her over, too. And once it did, she would never be free of it.

Three steps. He couldn’t breathe.

He dug his feet in and stopped, pulling her around to face him. She had to get one thing real damn clear right now. “It ain’t a good idea to touch me,” he growled between clenched teeth. He bent over her, close enough to feel her breath on his face. Hot and sweet.

She was startled at the abrupt change in direction and almost dropped the tray.

“Why?” she whispered.

Why?
He was warning her, and she wanted a discussion about it? “Because it’s a trigger. I thought Kit explained things to you.” She shook her head, her eyes huge. “I don’t like being touched.” He pulled free from her hold.

“You’re sick, Rocco. You’re not well.”

“Now there’s a newsflash.”

She resumed her march toward the main house. “Maybe you should talk to a counselor?”

He followed her. A muscle worked at the corner of his jaw. Clearly, he couldn’t pass for normal yet. He decided to lay the truth on the line. “I had three fucking months in the psych ward at Walter Reed. They determined I couldn’t be rehabilitated and shoved me out the door with lifetime prescriptions of mind-bending meds.” He looked at her. “I’m goddamned done with shrinks.”

“You didn’t have the right doctors, then. They should never have given up on you.”

A slow breath hissed from his mouth. “I came back to Wyoming, looking for the pieces of my life that were here before the war. But they’re gone. Just gone. There’s nothing fucking left.”

They had reached the house. Mandy walked up the porch to a side entrance that led to the eat-in kitchen area. Inside, she set the tray down on the counter and stared blankly at it a long moment, contemplating her next step. She looked at Rocco, considering him. He needed food—something, anything that would tempt him to eat. How long had he been starving himself?

She grabbed a block of chocolate ice cream, a carton of milk, a bottle of Hersey’s syrup, and a banana, then filled a blender with the ingredients and ground it to a smooth, thick liquid. Pouring the milkshake into two glasses, she gave him most of the mixture.

He made a face, tension filling the lines of his face. “What’s in it?”

“You saw me make it. Ice cream, milk, chocolate syrup, and a banana. Nothing gross. Drink it.” She sipped hers, watching him. He took a tentative sip. He held the cold liquid in his mouth as he stared at the glass. It was a decision point. She could see the battle in his face. The determination. He swallowed. He took another sip. He leaned against his side of the counter in the narrow galley kitchen and looked at her. She kept her face blank as she sipped at her glass, but she felt victorious.

“So what exactly is a therapeutic riding center?” he asked.

“It’s a place of healing. We’ll use interactions with the horses as a means of helping children and adults in lots of different ways. Some have disabilities from injuries or diseases. They need physical therapy to strengthen their core muscles to improve their balance and mobility. We’ll work with children who have attention problems and adolescents who have anger problems. And it’s not only our patients whose lives improve through their sessions here. The volunteers in this program from other centers report a significant improvement in the quality of their lives, too.”

He studied her. “You’re a regular Mother Theresa.”

She gritted her teeth. “It’s important work. And I’m proud to be doing it.”

Rocco gave a harsh laugh. “I guess there’s cosmic justice in that. I’ve spent a lifetime tearing the world apart. You’ll spend a lifetime putting it back together.”

Mandy watched Rocco, assessing him. Having a conversation with him was like licking a cactus. No matter what she said, she got a mouthful of thorns in return. She refused to sink to his level of fury.

Her gaze shifted to the floor, but his long legs filled her vision. His thighs were nicely formed. She dragged her eyes off his legs and absently wondered if Kit would come back as broken as Rocco. She tried not to think about Ty Bladen, the third member of their unholy trio. He’d always scared her. If he came home any angrier than he was when he left, he’d probably have to be locked up.

“How’s your milkshake?” she asked Rocco, forcing her mind to different thoughts.

He looked at his nearly empty glass. “Cold.” He swallowed the last of the thick drink and set it on the counter, then straightened. “Thank you.”

“Sure. Listen, Rocco, I need you to take your meals with me from now on.”

“That a condition of employment?” he asked, arching a dark brow at her.

“It is.”

“I don’t eat breakfast. And likely it won’t be convenient for me to stop work when you’ve got lunch ready.”

Mandy drew herself to her full height, which was less than strategic given that he had more than six inches on her. And even though he was lean, he was all muscle. “What part of a condition of employment didn’t you understand?”

“I don’t need a goddamned mother. I can feed myself.”

“And yet you don’t.” They stood almost chest-to-chest. This was so not good. She liked the way he smelled. Dark stubble shadowed his chin and jaw. His black eyes were utterly devoid of warmth. If he didn’t yield, there was only one way she could force his compliance. “Don’t make me call Kit.”

His brows lowered. “That’s a dirty trick.”

She smiled. “But useful. We’ll settle on suppers. Do you have any food allergies?”

“No.”

“Any dishes you’ve been craving? Any requests you’d like to put in?”

His gaze moved over her face, lingering on her lips. It took him the length of a breath to answer. “No.”

And of course, lacking any sense of self-preservation, Mandy asked one last question. “Are you a vegetarian?”

His lips parted on an inhaled hiss. He leaned close, bracing his hands on either side of the counter behind her, so close that she had to arch her neck.

“I. Eat. Meat.”

Mandy closed her eyes, feeling the rumble of his voice as it left his body and entered hers. Oh. God. And then the air cooled around her. When she opened her eyes, the kitchen door was closing behind him. She stared at it, wishing she didn’t feel what she felt.

Rocco was not the type of guy a rational woman would start mooning over. It was his eyes. They were so intense, so eloquent, that she couldn’t help but imagine how he would look at her if they were ever to be intimate. It would be as if she were the only woman in the world, the only woman for him.

She crossed her arms, yanking herself from such foolish thoughts. Rocco was a long way from being ready for a relationship. He couldn’t even touch anyone—how could the two of them be intimate? No, they weren’t meant to be. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be here for him. She owed it to her brother.

Chapter 6

Mandy forced herself to rise with the sun the next morning. She’d barely slept the night before; her dreams were so filled with a certain granite face and dark eyes. What would Rocco be like to kiss? Gentle and tender? Rough and edgy? Hurried and self-focused? Just thinking of him made her feel warm inside. She was definitely crushing on him. Not a good thing—she would never have carnal knowledge of him. Best accept that and move on.

She showered, then hurried to get breakfast prepared. He’d said he didn’t eat in the morning, but she hoped that if she simply presented him with food, he’d take some of it. Besides, it gave her an excuse to run into him this morning.

Mandy loaded a tray with the morning meal, then started down toward the bunkhouse. Hearing someone inside the toolshed, she detoured that way. The big overhead door was open. Rocco was inside, loading up Kitano’s feed and water buckets. He wore his running gear—loose pants and a T-shirt. She let her gaze roam over the muscles in his back as he filled the water bucket and carried it to the hand wagon.

As soon as he turned to her, she forced herself to look at his face. “Morning!” she greeted him cheerily.

He looked from her to the tray, then back again. He nodded at her. “What’s that?”

“Breakfast. I didn’t want to eat alone. I thought I’d catch you before you started on the fence.” She set the tray on the counter where her gutted weed whacker had been. It now hung on one of the walls, next to several other farm tools.

He didn’t come any closer. “We agreed on suppers.”

Mandy shrugged. “There’s more than I can eat here. Just have a bite. I have coffee for you,” she offered, hoping to tempt him.

He frowned at her, clearly not pleased. He washed his hands at the utility sink, then walked toward her. Prowled toward her, actually. “Anyone ever tell you you’re persistent as hell?”

Mandy handed him a cup of coffee. “Why would I back down when winning is important?”

“If I eat, what do you win?”

“Not what I win, it’s what you win. You get your health back.”

“What makes you think I’m not healthy?”

“Besides the day terrors? You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. You work twenty hours a day.”

He sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim. “If I eat, I’ll be doing what you want. What will you do for me in exchange?” As he asked, his gaze lowered from her eyes to her mouth.

Mandy had to wait until her heartbeat slowed down before answering. “What do you want in exchange?”

“A secret. I want you to tell me something about yourself that Kit doesn’t know, that no one else knows.”

“I don’t have secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets. You broke a law. You cheated. You smoked pot.”

“Can I lie?” she hedged.

“Hell, no.”

“Fine.” She filled a plate for him, loading it up with scrambled eggs, hash browns, and fruit. “Eat your breakfast. All of it. When you’re finished, I’ll tell you my secret.”

He took the plate and glared at the food. “If you renege, you’ll regret it.”

Mandy bit her bottom lip. What the heck was she supposed to tell him? She really didn’t have any dark secrets. She hadn’t broken the law. And she didn’t smoke pot. She’d never stolen anything. And she never, ever, cheated.