Familiar Stranger (10 page)

"Our daughter is in a panic," Cara said.

"Why? Because I'm here?"

Cara nodded.

"Are you okay with this, because if my being here is going to cause you trouble, then I'll leave. I won't want to, but I'll do it for you."

Cara got up from her chair and sat in David's lap. Relief hit him fast and hard as she wound her arms around his neck, careful not to touch his stitches.

"If you weren't wounded…"

He grinned. "It's not fatal," he said, as he began unbuttoning her shirt.

"But your stitches…"

"Are not in the way," David said, finishing her sentence for her.

She grinned. "That's not what I was going to say and you know it."

He stood up and then grabbed her hand, giving it a tug. "Today, I was a hero, remember? No one gave me the keys to the city, so I'm taking you instead."

He didn't have to ask her twice. In spite of her better judgment, she let him pick her up in his arms and carry her all the way to her bed.

"We seem to be doing an awful lot of this lately," Cara said.

David paused in the act of removing his shirt, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"What? Undressing?"

She blushed. "No. Well, yes, but not that specifically."

David tossed his shirt and then reached for his belt. "Are you referring to the fact that I keep taking you to bed?"

She arched an eyebrow. "You know exactly what I mean."

"Ah … well then," David said, removing his right shoe. "I look at it this way. I have forty years of making up to do and not a long time to do it, so if I'm ever going to catch up…"

She laughed and threw a pillow at him.

He dodged it neatly then kicked off his other shoe, shed the rest of his clothes and pounced.

Cara was still laughing when he slid into her body. The laugh turned into a groan and then a sigh. After that, it was downhill all the way.

Later, as they lay quietly in each other's arms, talking and savoring the pleasure of what had just happened, Cara could feel David starting to withdraw. She raised up on one elbow, looking at him.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

He started not to answer, then sighed. "Not with you … or with us. It's just that I need to … uh … check in at the office."

"Of course," she said, and reached for the phone. "Please feel free to use my phone anytime you need. I'll get dressed and give you some privacy."

David grabbed her arm, stilling her intent.

"Thank you, Cara, more than I can say. But I can't use your phone."

"Why? I don't—" Understanding dawned. "Oh."

He kissed the side of her face. "It's all right. I have everything I need in the trunk of my car. However, it will take a while to set up and I don't want you to think—"

This time, she was the one to silence him.

"David. Enough. You don't explain to me. You do what you have to do and just stay in one piece. I'll be satisfied with that, all right?"

He smiled. "Thank you, baby."

"Use any room in this house that you need. I have plenty of things I need to do outside. Just let me know when you're through."

David thought about it and then shook his head.

"No. I don't want to bring any part of that life into this house, and I don't need to necessarily be inside. I think I'll drive back toward the lake."

She nodded, frowning as she tried to picture a place at the lake where he could stay unobserved.

"You remember where we turned to go to the landing?"

He nodded.

"If you skip that turn and take the next one instead, it will take you to a very wooded area of the lake. There aren't any campsites or boat docks there. I think they have plans to develop it, but so far nothing has been done."

David smiled. "Sounds perfect."

Cara looked pleased. "Good, and while you're gone, I'm going to do some laundry. Do you have anything you need washed?"

"No, baby, but thanks," David said, and gave her a quick kiss before he rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

When he came out a few minutes later, Cara was already gone. By the time he dressed and left the house, he'd left more than Cara behind. David Wilson wasn't the man who got into the rental car and drove away toward the lake. It was Jonah.

By the time he reached the area that Cara had mentioned, he had completely refocused. There was nothing in his head but duty. In less than thirty minutes, he had everything set up and running. With a laptop and modem, some prototype chips in his Global Positioning System and a couple of other gadgets from technical research that had yet to be named, he had logged into his site and retrieved his messages.

Within an hour, he had two agents en route to Illinois to investigate death threats against the President, another dispatched to the border between Mexico and Texas and had restructured a list of agents on foreign soil to insure their identities stayed anonymous.

Out of curiosity, he checked a site reserved for personal messages between him and the White House. To his relief, there were none. He checked another site, hoping that there was some sort of message on there that had been intercepted from Frank, but again, there was nothing.

Convinced that he'd done all he could do, he logged off, packed the stuff back in the trunk and then strolled to the edge of the lake.

The day was calm, the water so still it looked like glass. Only the smallest of ripples could be seen as the water lapped at the shore. He stood for a while, absorbing the peacefulness of the day while mentally letting go of Jonah before he returned to Cara.

A trio of gulls circled high over his head. Curious, he watched for a while, thinking that they were quite a distance from the sea. Probably blown here with the last storm to pass through and just stayed—so symbolic of the path his own life had taken.

He'd set out on one path and had been war-tossed into another. And, instead of finding his way back home, like the gulls, he'd stayed. Had it been a mistake? If he'd come back after the war, what kind of a husband and father would he have been? He thought of the hell he'd lived with, thinking he'd not only killed his own brother but had hidden the truth about Frank being a traitor. In that moment, he accepted his life without regret. He would have been hell to live with, would have ruined whatever chances he and Cara might have had for a happy life, and they would have been divorced before they were thirty.

He sighed, remembering something his mother had said, that things always happened for a reason. It wasn't always easy to understand, but that with time, understanding always came. She'd been right. Now, looking back on what he'd done and his mental state at the time, he'd done the best thing for both of them.

The water beckoned.

Impulsively, he shed his clothes where he stood and then walked into the water until he was up to his chest and then started to swim. The water was cool against the heat of his skin. He swam until his car was little more than a black speck beneath the trees before he turned and went back. By the time he emerged from the lake, he was tired but renewed.

Within a very few minutes, he was dry enough to put on his clothes. As he walked to his car, he began to smile. It had been a long time since he'd done anything so innocent as skinny-dip. Maybe he was actually getting the hang of being a normal guy, after all.

By the time he got to Cara's house, it was mid-afternoon. When he drove up and parked, she looked up from the flower beds in front of her house and waved, but then continued to weed. He had no way of knowing how many prayers she'd sent up in his name, or that she'd cried more than once, fearing he would not return. All he saw was a woman confident within her life, waving a hello.

"Looks like you've been busy," he said, tweaking the end of her sun-stained nose. "You're about to get a sunburn, honey."

She rocked on her heels and put the back of her arm against her cheeks and nose, only then feeling the emanating heat.

"Ooh, you're right," she said. "And I forgot to put on sunscreen before I came out." She stood, dusting off her gloves and pushing her hair away from her face. "I've done enough anyway. Let's go inside. Are you hungry?"

He realized that he was.

"Yes, starving."

She smiled. "Good. How about a ham and cheese sandwich?"

"How about two?"

She laughed. "I think that can be arranged."

She went inside, leaving the door ajar for him to follow. As he stepped over the threshold, he sighed.

David Wilson was home.

Chapter 6

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S
undown had long since come and gone. The evening had passed with remarkable simplicity. It was as if the time David had spent away from the house had somehow settled some of the turmoil he'd brought with him. They'd watched television together like a couple who'd been married for years. David sat with an open book in his lap, sometimes reading, other times watching the program in broadcast, while Cara shelled some peas she'd bought from a nearby truck farm.

The gentleness of the evening had rolled over into their bedtime. Now, Cara lay naked beneath David's gaze. The love she felt for him was there in her eyes for him to see. All he had to do was look. Silently she watched as he undressed beside the bed. He moved in the darkness as if he had lived here all his life. She could tell he was far more comfortable within the shadows than the light.

"David."

He dropped the shirt he'd just taken off and turned.

"Yes?"

"That bullet scar on your back."

"What about it?"

"How did you get it?"

He frowned. "I thought you wanted to make love."

"I do, but I also want to know who I'm making love to and there is a huge gap between the boy who went off to war and the man you are today."

"If you knew, you wouldn't want me in your house, let alone your bed."

The defeat in his voice surprised her. She got up on her knees and then pulled him down onto the bed beside her.

"That's not true," she said. "I didn't ask because I feel a need to judge you. I asked for the same reasons I see in your eyes when Ray's name is mentioned."

David pulled her into his arms and pressed her cheek against his chest.

"It's not jealously, baby, I swear," David said.

"I know, but we lost so many years … wonderful years we could have spent together. I just have this overwhelming urge to fill myself up with your life. Maybe because it's the only way I have left to share it."

David bowed his head, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek, and then eased her back onto the pillow.

"If I talk, will you promise to lie still?"

She sighed. "Are you turning down my rather blatant request?"

He grinned. "Not by a long shot … just postponing it a bit."

She made a face.

He tweaked her nose. "Okay, you wanted to know about the scar on my shoulder?"

"Yes, please."

He thought of the searing pain from Frank's gun, spinning him around and knocking him off his feet.

"Vietnam."

"And the one on the side of your neck?"

"Afghanistan. Don't ask me why I was there."

"What about the long scar on the back of your right leg?"

"Disagreement with a sniper in Beirut. He ran out of bullets and I jumped him. I didn't know he had a knife."

Cara's eyes were huge, her lips slack with shock. He was telling these horrors in such a calm voice, and she felt like throwing up. She laid her hand on the sickle-shaped scar above his heart.

"And this one?"

He hesitated, and suddenly Cara put her hand on his mouth before he could answer. "I don't think I want to know."

"Now you're getting the picture. They don't matter anymore, baby. That part of my life is almost over."

Cara looked away and then closed her eyes. David could tell she was fighting tears. He cupped her cheek gently, then kissed the side of her face.

"What, honey? Don't shut me out now."

"Oh, God, David. Don't you understand? It's the
almost
that undoes me." She ran a finger along the surface of the old scars. "I can live with these. It's the ones you have yet to receive that scare me most."

There was nothing he could really say that would reassure her and still be truthful. And he wasn't lying to Cara—not ever again.

"Look at it this way," he said. "I was always outnumbered and survived. This time it's only one man."

"Why do you have to do this alone? Aren't there people you can call on? Isn't there anyone in authority who will stand beside you?"

David hesitated. "It's not that. It's just that the man wants me and only me. He's spent the better part of a year trying to destroy me and damned near took a huge chunk of national security and my best agents along with him. We can't afford … no …
I
can't afford to waste any more time. He has to be stopped." His voice changed to a deep, warning growl. "How much do you value your life and the lives of your children and grandchildren?"

Cara's mouth parted, her lips slack with shock.

"If he knew about you … about Bethany and her family … their lives wouldn't be worth dirt. In the past eleven months, he's kidnapped, lied, stolen and killed, and all in the name of trying to get to me. I am resigning from my post because I can't let another person fight what was ultimately my battle from the start."

"Dear God, David, what manner of man is he? Why you? What did you ever do to him to make him hate you this way?"

Silence hung between them, shrouded in secrets and guilt. He preferred not to answer, but if they were ever going to have a chance at any kind of a future, she had to know part of the past.

"He's a man gone crazy. It started years ago in Vietnam. He shot at me. I shot back. In fact, I thought I had killed him."

"Who is he, David? What kind of man hates like that?"

"You know the old saying about blood being thicker than water? Well, hate within a family is just as strong."

Cara frowned. "I don't understand. Your parents are dead. Your brother died in Vietnam. Who else is—"