Bad Girl Bill (Atlantic Divide) (10 page)

“Out. Everyone, out!” It seemed Kate had no such compunction to hint. She’d always had a way with people.

Men scurried out of her way trampling over each other in their haste. Terror was a great incentive.

In the ensuing silence Kate glared at her brother.

“What the bloody hell are you doing letting all those people in here? She’s supposed to be resting. Have you seen the bruises and swelling she has on her face?”

In a cowardly attempt to divert her ire away from him, he never hesitated to throw his brother-in-law to the wolves. “You should see the bruise running down her hip and thigh, not to mention the full imprint of Jack’s boot on her back.”

“Michael!” Bill gasped.

“Let me see.” Kate commanded, and she reached for Bill as Jack winced.

“No, no, Michael, Jack get out.” Neither of them moved as Kate deftly rolled Bill over onto her front and pulled her T-shirt high. Bill was trying to tug down the sides so she didn’t expose any more than she had to. Kate hissed through her teeth while Jack stepped in for a closer look.

“Jesus Christ, Bill you’ve got my footprint on your back,” he stated helpfully.

“Yeah well I can arrange to put mine on your ass if you don’t get out. You too, Michael!” She growled into the sofa pillow. “I can’t understand why I can’t have some privacy here. I live most of my life on my own and now I can’t seem to get rid of you all. Get out.”

With silent mutual agreement, both men removed themselves to the kitchen.

When Kate emerged ten minutes later Michael cringed as she pinned him with an accusing glare.

“No more visitors today, Michael, only her brothers. Has she eaten yet?”

“Not since breakfast.”

“I think you need to feed her before she falls asleep. She’s back in bed. I’ve given her another injection, which will probably kick in shortly. Give her soup and a sandwich.” She pointed her sharp, condemning finger at him. “Then leave her alone.” She turned to her husband as Michael set to his task.

“Jack, she needs time off work; her leg looks like chopped liver.”

Michael sent him an evil grin, relieved Kate had focused on her husband.

“Your boot in her back didn’t help matters, but she’ll heal. Right now she’s in a lot of pain. A lot more than I thought. Otherwise I may well have sent her to hospital. She needs sleep to recover.” Michael held his breath as she whipped back around to him. “How did you see those bruises?” He quirked a smile and met his sister’s piercing blue eyes.

“I helped her to her bath.”

Kate’s hands slapped onto her hips as she ground her teeth at him.

“She’s not well enough for that, so back off.” She glared at him long and hard and almost had him quaking as he saw their mother in her eyes.

Jack watched with admiration as she strutted out the door.

“How does she do that?” he asked.

“Years of damn practice on me.”

* * * *

Bill was almost asleep when he took food to her. Her long, black lashes swept down onto her cheekbones, and her pale skin showed up the dark bruises. His chest ached as he stared down at her wondering how the hell he had got there.

“You make me feel like a girl,” she murmured, drowsily as he fed her.

“You are a girl. A very sexy, very desirable, very beautiful girl, and Kate tells me I’m not allowed to do anything about that. Doctor’s orders.”

He placed the tray on the floor when she’d finished, and then sat and stretched out his long legs on her bed. Tucking her under his arm with her head comfortable on his shoulder, he closed his eyes

“Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“No one has ever called me sexy in my life.” Her voice slurred to a halt, so he wasn’t quite sure if he had heard her right.

She was the sexiest creature he’d ever met, and he couldn’t believe she hadn’t ever been told that. He was in trouble, and before he got in any deeper, he was going to have to retreat. Right now, though, he was going to sleep with her in his arms. Just this once.

* * * *

It was the cold that got to him. Deep, bone-chilling bitterness that seeped through to the marrow and took a man beyond shivering.

He’d been curled up in a threadbare blanket every night for fourteen nights and still they hadn’t managed to locate their target. There were six of them, and the worry was the longer they scouted, the more chance there was of getting scouted themselves. The possibility was that someone would stumble over them by mistake.

He peered through the pitch-black. The cloud cover obscured the moon and stars, and the density of the night brought an eerie quietness. Michael shuffled to get more comfortable. There
was
no comfortable position. The iron-hard ground froze the very backsides off them and sitting for too long in the same position gave them cramps. He needed to get up.

As he leaned forward to lever himself up off the ground, he heard the unmistakable
click
of a bullet settling into its chamber. He strained to see, his mouth opened to call a warning.

Bright white light blinded him and his breath backed up in his lungs as he tried to move. A weight on his chest pinned him down, and he felt panic rushing through him. His breath came in short, sharp, erratic bursts, and his heart pounded.

“Sshh…it’s just a dream.” Bill’s long, gentle fingers stroked comfortingly across his chest, her head rested on his shoulder, and her voice soothed in the dark. “It’s okay, Michael. It was just a dream.”

He reached for her hand, linked his fingers with hers, his eyelids closed, and he drifted back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * * *

The quiet vibration of a phone roused her, and she vaguely heard the murmur of Michael’s voice. She tried to lift herself out of the deep comfortable sleep, but it was difficult. Her limbs were warm and heavy, and her body lay inert over his. Cracking open her eyes, she became aware of him still speaking in hushed tones. When he finished, he glanced down into her open eyes.

“I have to go.”

“Okay.” Her tongue was thick; she could barely form the words.

“Away,” he reiterated. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Take care.”

Her eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

Strange how the dry heat of the Afghan desert didn’t seem as hot as the humidity in America. He found the desert winds and chill nights more comfortable in some ways. At least it allowed his boiling blood to cool down before it became unbearable again as the sun rose.

Then again, he hunted in the part of the Afghan known as the Desert of Death to locals because of its high temperatures and total desolation. There was nothing as far as the eye could see. It was his job to spot something.

He wiped the sweat from his top lip with his free hand. His right hand was permanently attached to his XM25. Officially, the gun belonged to the US Army and wasn’t on general release; unofficially three XM25s had been issued to their unit, and the boys called it the Punisher, because of its ability to find its target. Even when they managed to hide behind a barrier, the bullet pierced through armor, flesh, blood, and bone.

He continually scanned. The mission had made him uncomfortable from the start. He didn’t even trust the scouts they brought with them. In fact, he especially didn’t trust the scouts, so he included them in each scan he made. They would be the first to die if there was any trouble. He knew it. They knew it.

He adjusted his position under his desert camouflage. It would soon be time to move. He glanced up at the sky, estimated the time. Twenty minutes and they would move.

His concentration drifted, and he saw her in his mind’s eye. He’d left her fast asleep as he’d slipped out of her house in the early dawn. She’d looked at him, eyes soft and dazed, but he knew she hadn’t been aware of a thing. Her face had turned into the pillow, so he could only see her undamaged cheek. Her soft, downy skin. He’d touched it for the last time before he left. Caressed it with his fingertips, lingered for a moment before he turned and walked away.

He’d gotten too close. He’d not even had sex with the woman, and he was obsessed with her. He’d spent most of his waking moments thinking about her and most of his sleep time dreaming of her. If he closed his eyes, however briefly, he could see her wrinkle her perfect, straight nose, throw back her head, and laugh as though she hadn’t a care in the world. He loved her deep rusty laugh and her huge caramel eyes—they were so serious as she waited for his next move. He’d never had the opportunity to make his next move. For crying out loud, he’d never even managed to get a good firm hold on her without someone interrupting them.

Perhaps it was the fact no one allowed him to get near her that made her so much more attractive than any woman he’d ever met. Most women were more than happy for a quick tumble, and then he could move on. No strings, no attachments, no tears. He’d thought that about Bill at first. Tough, sexy lady. Then he’d changed his mind.

He shifted, uneasy as the heat of the sun and thoughts of Bill gave him a painful erection. His eyes skimmed over the landscape again, rested on the scouts for a millisecond, moved on.

He’d thought at first he would go back, make damn sure he had sex with her, and get her out of his system. But the longer he’d been away, the more it made him realize she wasn’t for him.

Every person who warned him away from her was right. She was going to fall in love with him, and he was going to walk away at some point and never come back. He’d either be posted again to some shithole for the next four years, or he’d step on a bomb and be blown to hell.

It wasn’t right. When he returned to the US he was going to have to keep away from her. And he had to return to the US; that’s where his contact was.

Much as it grieved him to give up on the idea of fantastic sex with his dream goddess, it wasn’t fair. To her. To him.

He gave his skin a scratch under his short, itchy beard, and signaled for the team to move. With a last scan of the landscape he indicated for them to load up into the Jeeps.

At his instruction, the scouts hesitated as one. Michael’s body instinctively went on full alert. He opened his mouth to warn the others, aimed his XM25 at the four scouts, and mowed them down at the same time his right-hand man of three years started the engine of one of the jeeps, and with a boom, it blew sky high.

* * * *

She was on late duty in the sheriff’s office when he walked through the door. His hair had grown thick and wild while he had been away, and his face was deeply tanned with a good layer of mustache and beard.

If it hadn’t been for the small lines of strain around his eyes, she would have thought he’d been on vacation. She could see from his muscle tone he’d been pushed physically, his slender frame appeared tougher and leaner.

He smiled at her, cool and remote, before he turned away to speak to a couple of the deputies, and then he walked into Jack’s office and shut the door behind him.

Strange that one cold look could make her heart hurt. She had no idea why. He’d barely acknowledged her, and he’d even spoken to guys he scarcely knew. His nod and smile had been a mere formality, a polite distancing of himself. Yet, with the least encouragement she would have thrown pride to the wind and leaped into his arms, kissed him stupid, in front of everyone. Thank God she hadn’t.

He’d made her feel like a complete ass, waiting all this time for his return, just to be ignored. She’d even lowered herself to ask his sisters twice if they had heard from him.

She swaggered across to the computer, feigning interest in the crime reports; her pulse raced, ears pounded. Her every nerve strained to let her know the moment he walked out of Jack’s office.

It took almost an hour, and then he walked past, nodded coolly in her direction again, said good-bye to the other deputies, and left.

What the hell was that about?
She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand in irritation, glanced at the computer, and then back up again. No one in the room had even noticed. They didn’t know about all the sexual tension that had been going on between them.

But she did. She’d felt it, she’d almost tasted it, and now he cut her dead, and she felt that too. Like nothing had happened between them. Like she was a stranger. Well, she had more pride than to beg for his attention, didn’t she?

“Shit.” Maybe not.

She stood up and pushed away from her desk, strode toward the front door.

“Taking some personal time here.” She slammed out the door, ran down the street in pursuit of Michael.

He stood at his car beside the Late Store with flowers in one arm and a bottle of Jack Daniels in another. She slowed to a walk as she approached him, and he turned wearily to face her. His eyes, a deep, turbulent sea green, narrowed as she stopped in front of him. Her bravado deserted her.

“Hey.” She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs as his eyes pinned her to the spot.

“Hi.”

“You…you didn’t speak.”

“No. I’m busy.” Awkward, he lifted the Jack Daniels aloft.

“Well, I guess they aren’t meant for me.” She flicked a hand in the direction of the beautiful yellow roses lying across his arm. She had the urge to take them from him and hit him around the head, but the urge to run had become greater.

Silent, he continued to level a deadpan stare at her. She rubbed her nose with irritation.

“I guess you found yourself a willing woman to go play with.”

“They’re for Kate and Lydia.” Irritated he turned away, opened the passenger door, and slid the flowers and bourbon onto the front passenger seat. He stood with his back to her for a moment, heaved a sigh as he leaned his hands on the car roof, and then turned his head in her direction as though it was all too much effort.

“Was there something you wanted?”

The pain in her chest made her breath come in short, shallow pants. Embarrassment coursed through her veins. She shuddered as she realized he didn’t want her there. She’d made him uncomfortable by running down the street after him like a goddamn lovesick kid, and all he probably wanted her to do was go.

Hurt and confusion bubbled together with a good dollop of humiliation, and a small sliver of annoyance curled in her stomach. It wasn’t in her nature to slink off. Never had, never would.