Tactical Strike (26 page)

Candace laid her cheek on his chest and nodded in
acknowledgement. “I went to Dover’s service two days ago. It was tough watching
his widow and son go through that. He was a great man and officer.” She lifted
her eyes to his. “But you’ll always be my hero, whether you like it or not.”

A reluctant grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I
guess I kind of like it. I mean, it’s not like I
hate
it.”

Smiling, she set her chin on his breastbone and watched him.
“Since I love you and you’re my hero, would you come to my rescue one more
time?”

He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “Maybe. What do you
need?”

“Come with me to a family gathering at my grandmother’s
tonight? Dad can’t make it, but everyone else is dying to meet the man who saved
me and stole my heart.”

His expression turned bland at her dramatic choice of wording.
“Sweetheart, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than be grilled by your
powerful and politically connected family my first night back in the States. I’m
in.” Before she could thank him, he scooped her up in his arms, startling a
squeak out of her when he rolled her in front of him and pulled her back against
his chest. “But first, a little spooning and a nap before we use up some more of
those condoms.”

Chapter Twenty

Ryan wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find when he
pulled up at Candace’s grandmother’s fancy Greek revival-style house at eleven
o’clock on a Thursday night, but it wasn’t eight cars parked in front of it and
all the lights blazing inside. Wasn’t she, like, eighty-something?

“Oh good, she’s still up,” Candace said happily from the
passenger seat.

Apparently. She and half the neighborhood, if the noise coming
from the house was any indication when he opened the car door. Candace was
already out of the car by the time he climbed out and locked it. Laughter and
loud voices reached them well before they got to the tall front doors. Candace
threw him an eager grin over her shoulder before going in without knocking. Not
that anyone could have heard it over all the noise. Still, he couldn’t help but
smile. It was obvious Candace was looking forward to seeing her extended
family.

The instant the door opened, the strong smell of cigarette
smoke hit him. He raised his brow in surprise. It smelled like a cigarette
factory. “She smokes?”

“Like a chimney.” She grabbed his hand, tugged him forward.
“Just leave your shoes on.”

He followed her up the stairs, and the volume of the voices
increased with each step. An excited squeal rang out when someone saw Candace
appear at the top. Ryan hung back as she was immediately engulfed by a mob of
women before being dragged over to greet the rest of her relatives.

Glancing around the formal room decorated with what looked like
a lot of expensive antiques, Ryan picked out the grandmother right away.
Surrounded by a captive audience she was speaking to, she sat on the fancy
tufted sofa with a cigarette in one hand and a tumbler full of either scotch or
whiskey in the other. Not exactly what he’d expected. Above her snowy
white-haired head, a three-inch-thick layer of blue smoke hugged the
ceiling.

Making her way over, Candace bent to hug her and kissed the
cheek the old woman presented. They spoke for a moment; then someone else
grabbed Candace and dragged her past him. She threw him an apologetic smile and
held up a
one
-
sec
signal
on her way to the kitchen with someone he assumed must be an aunt or other
relative. Feeling a little awkward, or maybe invisible, Ryan started to follow
her.

Before he could catch up, a middle-aged woman with short brown
hair intercepted him, smiling brightly. “You must be Ryan.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took the hand she offered, shook it
politely.

“I’m Candace’s aunt, Heather.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She nodded toward the others. “They don’t mean to steal her
away from you—we’re all just excited to see her safe and sound. Thanks to you.”
That smile grew even broader, until Ryan felt his cheeks start to heat. “Come on
into the kitchen and meet everyone.”

He nodded and waited for her to lead him there, but across the
room he saw the grandmother suddenly rise from the couch, her gaze locked on him
like a laser designator.

Turning his most charming smile on her, Ryan couldn’t help but
stare in disbelief. The woman was barely five feet tall and wrinkled as an old
gym sock, but he could tell she had attitude to spare. And she was wearing a
freaking
nightgown
.

Her sharp green eyes pinned him where he stood as she stalked
over wearing nothing but that pink cotton nightie that came to mid-thigh, her
lit cigarette trailing a stream of smoke behind her. On the front in bold black
letters read
Where
Have
All
The
Good
Men
Gone
? Remembering she was a widow, Ryan fought back
a smile. She was kind of cute, in a really frightening, eccentric sort of way.
He had to admire her spunk.

She came right up to him, her cigarette polluting the air and
her drink sloshing in her glass. From the gleam in her eyes, he was willing to
bet it wasn’t her first drink of the day. Or even the second. Her gaze narrowed
as she stared up at him, and his smile slipped a notch. He darted a quick glance
toward the kitchen, but Candace was nowhere to be seen. Gathering himself, he
faced the grandmother. “Hello, Mrs.—”

“Are you the man sleeping with my granddaughter?”

He stilled in shock, struggling to keep his mouth from falling
open. “Uh...” How the hell was he supposed to respond to that? “I’m Ryan.” He
started to offer his hand.

Her thin lips pursed in displeasure. “Hold this.” She thrust
the crystal tumbler out at him and he barely caught it before it hit him square
in the chest.

He had only a moment’s unease at the glint in her eyes before
her open palm whipped out and caught him flush across the cheek. Too stunned to
move, he didn’t even have time to react before she grunted and backhanded him
none too gently across the other. The sharp crack of her hand against his skin
echoed in his ears, his brain struggling to figure out what the fuck was
happening. Holy shit, he’d just been bitch-slapped by an old lady.

Snatching her drink back from his frozen fingers, she studied
him shrewdly. “There,” she said with a satisfied nod, then announced in a loud
voice, “I’m going to bed.” Sauntering down the hall, she left him standing there
open-mouthed with his face stinging from her unconventional welcome.

Well, fuck. What the hell had just happened? He could already
feel the blood rushing to the stinging slap marks. She’d even hit him while he
had stitches in. That was so wrong.

For a moment he considered making a run for it in case she came
back for more, but then a door closed down at the end of the hall. Like a
sleepwalker, he stumbled toward the kitchen, still abuzz with chatter. When he
rounded the corner, everyone stopped talking and stared at him.

Candace glanced up. Her eyes went wide, and she put a hand to
her mouth to cover her gasp. “What happened?”

They were all still staring at him, their eyes going right to
the slap marks. He glared at Candace in silent accusation for deserting him and
leaving him to her grandmother’s mercy. “She hit me.”

“Grandma?”

Ha! That was no grandma. That scary-ass woman was nothing like
one. He cocked an accusatory brow. “Twice.”

“Ryan, what did you say to her?” Candace looked aghast.

Her outraged tone and the idea that this was his fault offended
him. “I didn’t say anything. She came up and demanded to know if I was sleeping
with you.”

She covered her mouth again, but this time he could tell she
was laughing. He didn’t find it funny at the moment. The other relatives in the
room started chuckling as well.

“Well, that’s Ma for you. Old-fashioned as they come,” one of
the men said. “Welcome to the family, Ryan. Thanks for bringing our Ace back
safe and sound.”

A cheer rose up from the group, making his whole face burn.

Snuggling up against his side, Candace lifted on tiptoe to kiss
him. Another cheer filled the room. His outrage drained away, erased by her easy
affection in front of everyone. He really hadn’t known how she’d act toward him
with all these people around, family or not.

After Candace finally introduced him to everyone, he hooked an
arm around her shoulders. “Can I have a word with you in private, please?” he
asked softly, though it wasn’t really a question. He led her outside onto the
back balcony overlooking the expansive, manicured grounds before turning to
confront her.

“Sorry about your face.” Her eyes glittered with amusement.

“Ha. It’s fine.” He tightened his grip and gave her a feral
smile. “Got any more surprises in store for me that I should know about?”

He expected her to laugh, but she didn’t. She glanced away
instead and shifted awkwardly. “Uh...maybe one more. But not until
tomorrow.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “How about we skip the part
where I get humiliated and you just tell me now.”

She looked too damn guilty as she stared up at him. “I thought
if I told you I’d scare you away, but—”

“Scare me away?” He couldn’t believe she’d said that. “Excuse
me?” After what they’d gone through together?

“Well I—”

“Candy Cane, you here? Where are you?” a deep voice boomed from
behind them.

She whirled, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Dad, you
made it!”

Oh
shit
,
really
? Ryan
braced himself as she tugged him back inside with an excited, “Come on!”

He stepped back into the house just in time to catch sight of a
big, dark-haired man who looked vaguely familiar enveloping her in a bear hug.
Then the man straightened and raised his head. Ryan’s stomach dropped. The
handprints on his cheeks stung hotter.

Holy Christ. Her father was Senator
Adams
. The very man in the newspaper article he’d been bad-mouthing
in front of her that day in Bagram.

Candace looked over her shoulder at him with an ecstatic smile,
her eyes so full of love and warmth it made him feel unworthy. “Dad, this is
Ryan.”

The senator’s face broke into a wide grin as he came forward to
grip his hand and set the other on Ryan’s shoulder. “Glad to finally meet you,
son. I’ve heard so much about you, and I can never thank you enough for what you
did for my daughter out there. My family and I are indebted to you.”

Clearing his throat, Ryan found his voice. “I just did my job,
sir. She’s a great leader, and her crew is lucky to have her. You’d have been
real proud of the way she conducted herself, especially under those
circumstances. She was something else.”

The senator turned suspiciously damp eyes on Candace. “I am
proud.” Then he looked back at Ryan, and his eyes narrowed. “What happened to
your face?”

“If you mean the handprints, Grandma slapped him,” Candace
said. “Can’t imagine what got into her.”

“About a half bottle of scotch, most likely,” the senator
muttered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about that. Ma’s a character. She can be
a real handful sometimes.”

“Yes sir, I got that impression.”
On
both
cheeks
,
thank
you
very
much
.

Chuckling, he waved Ryan toward the kitchen. “Let’s get a beer
and sit out back. When everyone finally clears out I want to hear all about the
rescue.”

Candace raised her brows at him in silent question.

Reaching for her hand, he nodded his agreement. “That sounds
good, sir.” As her father headed for the kitchen, Ryan held her back for a
moment. “Your last name is Bradford,” he whispered accusingly.

Her eyes widened, and her surprise wasn’t fake. “I thought you
knew! Technically he’s my stepfather, but even though I’m not his biologically,
he’s my dad in every way that matters. He married my mom when I was only three
and they never changed my name. You mean to tell me you didn’t see him all over
the news or in the papers even once this past week?”

“No, I was in and out all last week and under a media blackout.
I just knew from some of the guys that your father was a senator and that there
was a lot of media attention on your story.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Jesus, you must think I’m a total asshole, the way I slammed him before. And
you.” He’d made some dumbass comment about the senator’s kid being a desk jockey
back here in Washington, never realizing he was actually talking about Candace
and insulting her in the process.

She shrugged. “I did at the time, but I don’t blame you for
jumping to conclusions.” Her fingers tightened around his. “Now you see why I
was so set on keeping my family a secret? Having a different last name just made
it that much easier for me. I wasn’t trying to trick you or anything.”

“Yeah, I get it now. God, I’m so sorry for anything I did
that—”

Candace cut him off with a finger against his lips. “I’m not
upset about it anymore. I love you.” To prove it, she set her hands on his
shoulders and leaned up to settle her mouth on his. Her lips were soft and warm,
the stroke of her tongue igniting a surge of raw need inside him. He made a
growl of protest when she pulled away, and won a conspiratorial smile. “Let’s go
have that beer. Then we can get outta here and back to your hotel room. I
believe we still have some condoms to use up?”

Ryan wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him, hardly
able to believe she was really his. “I love the way you think, Ace.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to get your beauty sleep too. Big day for
you tomorrow, facing the paparazzi at the ceremony and all.”

He groaned against her hair. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’ll be fine,” she soothed, holding him tightly like she
didn’t ever want to let go. “And I’ll be there to support you.”

The lingering tightness in his chest eased. As long as he had
her, he could face damn near anything.

* * *

Dressed in a wool pea coat with a snug black pencil
skirt and cranberry satin blouse, Candace stood near the back row of chairs in a
room at Joint Base Andrews the next afternoon and dabbed a soggy tissue to her
eyes as the four-star general pinned the Air Force Cross to Ryan’s dress uniform
jacket.

A barrage of flashes burst from all the cameras poised in
front. Through it all, Ryan stood tall and proud in his dress blues and the
hallowed scarlet beret that marked him as a CCT. The row of stitches in his lean
cheek stood out starkly, lending him a kind of dangerous air. There could be no
doubt to anyone watching that they were looking at one of AFSOC’s finest
operators and a true American hero.

She had goose bumps all over her that had nothing to do with
the chilly wind.

Beside her, her mother reached out to catch her hand, squeezing
it while she blotted her own eyes with the other. “Look at him,” her mother
breathed, pressing the fist holding the tissue over her heart.