Edge of Survival (12 page)

“You’re an adrenaline junkie.”

“No.” He frowned and Cam found herself watching intently, wondering what went on inside that mind of his. “It’s just…the things people do in the civilian world seem so…mundane…compared to…” He dug his fingers into his eye sockets.

“Don’t you think that’s just a little condescending?”

“Of course it’s condescending. That’s why I’m in bloody Northern Labrador.” He let out a frustrated breath and lay back on the deck, stretched out with his hands beneath his head as if he were on a beach in the Caribbean rather than the blustery deck of a ship.

Normally he avoided talking so she decided to take advantage of the moment. They’d shared something today, and she sensed it had somehow altered their relationship. And he didn’t like it.

“What did you do? In the SAS?”

“I defended Queen and Country. Sometimes it meant running gold through rebel territory in the Congo, and other times it meant shooting beautiful women who tried to kill me.”

A shiver sliced through Cam, and she drew her knees tight beneath her chin. “You’re kidding, right…?”

“Of course I’m kidding.” He didn’t move, just stared up into the night. “Enough about me. What about you?”

She laughed. “Me? Nothing very exciting to tell about me. Never even got a parking ticket.”

“Well, thank God for that.” He twisted onto his side, rested his head on his braced hand. “When did you find out you had diabetes?”

She sipped her tea, chewed her bottom lip. “That isn’t the most interesting thing about me, you know.”

“But it is what I want to know.
Quid pro quo
, I believe is the correct Hannibal Lecter expression.”

“Hannibal, my favorite theologian.” But he was teasing, and that easygoing persona combined with the perfect outer package was way too attractive to resist. Cam put her mug on the deck. Tucked her nose into her knees. “I was fourteen. I’m the third of four kids in my family, and up to that point I’d pretty much flown under the radar. But when I was diagnosed, all of a sudden I became the center of attention.”

“I bet.”

“I hated it.” In typical teenage fashion she’d thought her life was over. It had been a hell of an adjustment. “My mother is a scientist with NASA and my dad’s a schoolteacher, and even they couldn’t fix this. Man, they were pissed.” And frustrated. And worried. And hurting for their little girl.

The cry of a loon broke across the bay. Goose bumps peppered her skin.

“I went through the whole gamut of teenage angst in four weeks flat and the entire family had to adjust to life with diabetes.” Her brothers had even been forced to eat diabetic chocolate that first month. They’d hated it. “During elementary school I was so terrified of needles, I used to faint at the thought of them.” She grinned. “I guess I’m used to them now.”

“That’s rough.” Daniel’s eyes lost their amused twinkle. His serious expression made him look like a grownup.

“Not really.” She tried to cover her awkwardness. “I realized pretty quickly that I had complete control over my life. I listened to my doctors. I carried on with sports, I learned to calculate carbs and control my food intake, and I ran my life exactly how I wanted.”

His dark eyes watched hers steadily. “And that’s all it took? Organization and determination?”

“No,” she corrected, “that’s all it
takes.
Every hour of every single day.”

She didn’t tell him about the tears or restless nights. Or going to sleep at night never sure you were going to wake up the next morning. Or the time she’d thrown caution to the wind and slammed a couple of tequila shots and ended up hospitalized with severe hypoglycemia. Or the fear that consumed her every time she got blurred vision, terrified she was going blind from retinopathy.

“So life is sacred?” His voice was barely audible in the night.

“Well, isn’t it?” she snapped.

“What about boys? What about all those teenage crushes kids have?” He changed the subject but he was talking so she answered.

“Same as everyone else.” She ran her hands up and down her shins.

“When did you lose your virginity?” Teeth flashed as heat poured into her cheeks. “Come on, Doc. It’s hardly a national secret. You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

“But it’s
my
business, and you were probably twelve and haven’t stopped since.”

He raised a brow before facing the stars again. “You’d be wrong. On both counts. I was eighteen and in
lurv.
” He stretched out the word. “Her name was Juliet. I met her at a school dance and I thought she was a princess. I wanted to marry her and have babies.”

Wow. Cam couldn’t hide her shock. “What happened?” She couldn’t imagine a girl called Juliet resisting him.

“I also fell in love with the army, and she refused to be an army bride. I think she married a banker.”

“Damn,” Cam murmured. “You must have really loved being a soldier. So why’d you quit?”

His jaw tensed, and she figured she’d hit another sore spot. He reached out and stopped her hand as it played with the lace on her runners.

“
Quid pro quo
, Clarice.” He squeezed her fingers and a warm spark jumped through her body before he let go.

“My first real boyfriend was a guy named Henry. I was twenty-one, a late developer.” She smiled. “Probably because of my two huge, overprotective brothers, who scared off any guy I was interested in.” Henry seemed like two lifetimes ago. “We got engaged and I believed him when he said he’d love me forever. So we did it in a bunk at his frat house.” She wiggled her brows. “And two weeks later he ran off with a girl studying Egyptology.”

“Put you off for life?”

“Egyptologists or sex?” she joked. That memory hadn’t hurt in a long time.

“Sex.” Daniel was still looking at the stars as if he didn’t give a damn about her answer.

“What makes you think I’ve been put off sex?” Did he think she was frigid? “I have had stupendous sex, thank you very much. Mind-blowing monkey sex with all the stars and fireworks.”
Hell,
she didn’t know why she sounded so defensive.

“With Henry in a frat house bunk.” He snorted as if he thought she was funny.

Suddenly she was angry. She climbed to her feet, reached up to grab the hangar door and dragged it down. Daniel stood to help bolt it shut.

“First with Henry, then with Dean, my second ex-fiancé who plays professional hockey for the Florida Panthers. Is
that
manly enough for you or do I need to saddle a Champion bull rider to prove I’m a real woman? God, you are so full of crap.” Annoyance pulsed hard and swift and had her clenching her fists. “Just because you were some super-elite soldier pumped full of testosterone doesn’t mean you’re better at sex than everyone else.” She bent to pick up her mug from the deck.

“I never said I was better—”

“At least I have enough brains to know there’s a difference between nailing anything that moves and making love.”

“You think so, huh?” Something fired in his eyes. The air crackled with the sort of danger that came out of nowhere and flattened you with a single blow. He clamped his hands to her upper arms, picked her up and thrust her against the cold metal of the hangar door. They glared at each other for a moment and she was about to protest when he pressed his lips to hers.

She braced her hands against his shoulders, expecting force and fury. But his lips were velvet soft, and he kissed her gently, his body pressing full length against hers and holding her in place. His hands slipped down her sides to her backside and hoisted her higher until she wrapped her legs around his waist for support. She dropped her mug. It shattered.

He was fully aroused as he moved against her, and she opened her mouth on a shocked gasp. His tongue slipped inside her mouth and explored slowly, thoroughly. Nothing like she anticipated from the whirlwind of sensations that exploded through her body. He hinted at seduction and passion. Subdued. Contained. Controlled.

Perfect.

She sighed.

It was, without a doubt, the most amazing kiss she’d ever experienced. The heat of him surrounded her, the strength of him cradled her in position, and the scent of him made her hungry for more. Her heart raced like an engine on an overheated NASCAR track, her breath came in ragged pants. Her legs gripped his waist and her arms clung around his neck, absorbing the unyielding strength of the man. She pulled him closer.

Dear God, he knew how to kiss.

It took her a moment to realize he’d stopped moving and she was the one doing all the kissing.

She dropped her hands and legs and shoved him away. She wiped the taste of him from her mouth with the back of her hand.
Damn him.
“Get away from me.”

“Cam—” He reached out, but she dodged his grip.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t say anything.” She moved to the middle of the deck, the wind blinding her with her hair as her cheeks burned with humiliation. The air felt jagged inside her chest, each breath a painful reminder that he’d reduced her to another easy conquest with one sweet kiss. The man was more than dangerous. “You’re right. You’re an expert at the nailing part and even I got confused. You’re good. I bet you’ve fooled a lot of girls with kisses like that.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and the muscles in his jaw flexed.

“But you didn’t fool me, Daniel.” And that was the problem. “I know how guys like you operate and I’m not interested.”

“Christ, you are a patronizing—”

“You’re right.” She held up her hand.
God, the humiliation
. “You never said you were interested, you were just proving a point. I forgot it was a game.” She held his gaze for five full seconds, aware her breath shook in and out of her lungs while he’d shut down and looked as emotional as a zombie. “Whatever weird ideas or theories you decide you need to test? Next time, do me a favor and find someone else to be your lab rat.”

***

Griff excused himself and stepped outside the bar in Nain to call his wife, leaving his sergeant with Alice McCoy. Johnny was trying to get the constable inebriated—no doubt to get into her panties. Griff couldn’t imagine the straight-laced officer in any state other than stone-cold sobriety, but Johnny was almost as charming as that SAS guy when he set his eyes on a prize. Neither Johnny nor McCoy were married, so Griff didn’t see a problem. In fact, the only problem with sex these days seemed to be caused by gold bands cinched too tight and too many years of indifference.

Marcia wasn’t answering the phone. The machine kicked in.

“Marcia. Marce! Pick up if you’re there.” He gave it a couple of seconds but no one answered. He didn’t know where she or the kids were and he started to sweat. He took a couple of deep breaths but had enough images of home invasion, mutilation and torture inside his head to picture them in a growing pool of blood, or tied up while some bastard took turns with his wife and daughter.

“Tina, pick up, honey. It’s Daddy.” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. The smell of brine filled the night air, as did the crash of waves from the bay, but it didn’t calm him. Finally someone lifted the receiver and Griff held his breath, waiting for the heavy breathing on the other end to morph into a familiar voice or his worst nightmare. “Marcia?”

“Griff, why are you calling so late? I was asleep.”

Relief hit him like a baseball bat and he laughed. Surely he must still love her if he felt like this just because she didn’t pick up the phone? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, honey. I just wanted to let you know I’m coming home in the morning.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause. “That’s great…” It didn’t sound great.

“I’m sorry it took longer than I expected.”

“It’s okay. Honest.” Her breathing steadied but there was a catch in her voice. “I think we needed the time apart. It’s good for us.”

No, it wasn’t. He could hear it in the remoteness of her voice—in her
politeness,
for Christ’s sake. And yet, why shouldn’t husbands and wives be polite to one another? He rested his head against the siding and watched a couple of men leave the bar and wander up the main road. The stars glowed brighter than cut diamonds, but all he could think of was the growing distance between him and the woman he’d married with the naïve optimism that that love would last forever.

“We spend too much time apart.” He didn’t say anything else for a moment, and a loon warbled across the water. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should quit the job.”

He expected her to squeal with joy but all he got was a deep silence filled with unspoken thoughts. His heart gave a painful twinge as stress clamped down on the organ. She sniffed. Was she crying?

“We’ll talk about it when you get home” was all she said.

“Okay.”
Oh, God
. He sounded like a weenie, like some castrated, thumb-squeezed asshole. He closed his eyes. “I love you.” This was his
family,
not just his wife. He opened his eyes and stared up at Orion’s belt as he waited for her to say it back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Griff.” And she disconnected. His phone beeped against his ear, but he didn’t snap it shut. He didn’t think he could deal with the terrible weight of northern silence.

“Everything all right?” Constable McCoy came out of the bar to check on him.

He nodded and pushed away a few steps toward the shore. Everything was fine except he figured his wife was about to leave him, whether he quit his job or not. And what if he quit and was left with nothing? But what if he didn’t, and spent the rest of his life regretting his decision?

“I never got the opportunity to thank you, sir, for letting me work with you. It was an honor.” She smiled, something he hadn’t seen her do much, and it softened all the emaciated angles. Despite the sharp features she had a sweet face and should smile more often. Though sometimes the job didn’t give you much to smile about.

“I’m surprised you didn’t run screaming after the first five minutes,” he admitted.

Her eyes swung away to the bay, which glistened in the moonlight. “Well, I have a good therapist, and blackmail material is always useful.”