Flee the Night (16 page)

Breast cancer had swept through Alicia Galloway’s body and ravaged her in a matter of months. Lacey felt pretty sure that a part of her own heart had been scooped out and buried in that cold earth. She couldn’t bear the reception, the somber tones, the faces of grief. She’d escaped to the creek, sunk down into the shadows of the maple, and let grief crash over her.

She didn’t hear Micah approach, just looked up and saw him standing above her, pain in his eyes. Then he’d knelt and pulled her into those huge wide-receiver arms and held her. She hung on and sobbed.

John had already left for cadet camp at West Point. Micah, however, had ten glorious weeks before boot camp, and it seemed he spent every waking hour of those weeks either trying to divert her from her grief or helping her muscle through it. Watching him leave for camp had gouged out another huge chunk of her heart. She had leaned against his car, feeling herself shredding, and heard the catch in her own voice when she said, “Don’t forget me.”

He smiled, pure and sweet and dangerous. “How can I forget you? You’re my lucky penny.”

He must have seen her fears lurch up with the rest of her emotions—love, regret, friendship—for he’d reached out of the window and tugged one of her unruly curls. “I won’t forget you. I promise.”

Through letters and occasional visits, she’d continued to date John her junior and senior years, and she couldn’t bear to question her motives. John was fun. Exhilarating. He embodied adventure and a bright future. Paralyzingly handsome, with his curly blond hair and scalawag smile, John knew how to tap into her desire to change the world and wrap it around his little finger. But sometimes, between the poetry and laughter, the games and heady dreams, she longed for something … more substantial.

And in the spring of her senior year, Mr. Substantial had come back to sprawl again under this maple tree, his arms crossed under his head, his eyes on her. Micah had returned to take Lacey to her senior prom in John’s stead. Micah still looked devastatingly handsome in his faded Levi’s and gray army T-shirt. Thick muscles betrayed his PT routine, and his dark hair had been shaved short, into a high and tight crew cut. Micah would be unbearably gorgeous in his dress blues tonight at the prom.

She could hardly take a full breath in his presence. John might be studying to be an officer, but his best friend, Jim Micah, was soldier to his marrow. Power. Righteousness. Duty. And tonight he was her date.

But today he was her friend. One who spent the afternoon riding and laughing with her. The way he looked at her … it sorta made a girl wonder if indeed, he’d missed her, just like he’d suggested between the lines in his weekly letters. And he smelled good. Too good. The perfect heady mix of masculinity and fresh air.

If Lacey didn’t put some distance between them, she just might forget to which man she belonged.

“So you like Special Ops?” she asked. “I thought you had to be in the army for a couple years before they’d let you try out.” She ran a piece of tall grass between her fingers, trying not to be jealous of the wind as it skimmed his hair.

“They have a special fast-track program. They’re short on team members, and with the cold war breaking apart, Reagan wants to make sure we have the military specialists to take down any sudden eruptions for power.”

The thought of him wielding an M-16 or, worse, being slain on some foreign war-rocked soil sent a shudder through her. “Is it hard work?”

He smiled, a lopsided, endearing grin of acquiescence. “The first time I jumped out of an airplane, I thought I was going to lose my stomach through my mouth. But … well, it’s sort of exhilarating. Gotta watch how you land, however. You could break both your legs.”

She made a face. He laughed. She felt it rumble through her, clear to the soles of her feet. How she’d missed him, his easy friendship, the way he seemed to know her thoughts. She thought of that as she watched him relax under the tree. If he were to die in some unnamed eastern European smudge on the map, she’d lose the last little still-beating piece of her heart.

“Why are you doing this, Micah? I mean, I understand John. He’s after glory, driven by a weird mix of patriotism and idealism. And when he talks, I think he could inspire Gorbachev to become a patriot. But you’re different. You’ve never told me why you’re so dedicated. I mean, we haven’t had a war for ten years. And hopefully we won’t ever again. So why join the commandos?”

He touched a strand of her hair. “It always amazes me that no matter how hot it is, your hair always stays springy.”

She batted away his hand. “That’s because I’m cursed with Galloway curls.”

“Blessed.”

“Answer my question, Soldier Boy.”

He grinned, a hundred-watt smile that made the balmy May day feel a billion times hotter. “Okay, but you have to swear, upon pain or death, that you won’t reveal my secret.” His eyes held tease, but she couldn’t dismiss the hint of seriousness in his voice.

She held up her hand. “I swear.”

“Upon pain or death.”

She hit him, and he playfully protected himself. “Penny, I’m serious.”

She rolled her eyes. “Upon pain or death.”

His smile disappeared, his eyes fixed to hers. “Well, I always fancied that I’d been given a sort of sacred charge. Micah 6:8.” His expression became very, very serious as he recited the Bible verse: “‘The Lord has already told you what is good, and this is what he requires: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.’”

He was giving her a glimpse beneath the mighty armor of Jim Micah, and it made her weak.

“Well, when I started looking and praying about my future, I kept coming back to military service.” He sat up, braced himself on one arm. “Do you know that the Green Beret motto is Free the Oppressed?”

“No, I didn’t.”

He shrugged. “When the recruiter told me that, it was like fireworks shot off in my head. I’m going to be a Green Beret.”

“That’s really dangerous, isn’t it?”

He didn’t meet her eyes and instead leaned back, staring at the sky. “I’ll be okay.”

She reached out, palmed his chest, wanting suddenly to cry or even beg him not to go. She heard the catch in her voice and forced her tone to remain light. “You better be careful, Jim Micah. Don’t you dare die on me, or I’ll come over there … and … and …” She couldn’t conjure up a threat big enough to undo him, so she just shook her head.

He grinned, a teasing smile that made her a little dizzy. “Good.” Then he ran his fingers over her cheek. His smoky green eyes were on hers, holding her, pulling her in.

In a desperate attempt for sanity, she tickled his nose with the blade of grass she still held. He sputtered, then roared with play and launched himself toward her. She took off, running through the creek. He tackled her halfway in, pulling her down into the cool water.

“Micah, stop!”

He laughed, then poured a handful of water down her back.

She arched away from the cold. “Stop it!”

“Okay, sorry.”

When she looked at him, all play vanished. His smile dimmed, and heat pooled in his eyes. He stared at her, swallowed, and his gaze fell to her lips. She quivered with a strange sort of fear but didn’t stop him as he touched her jaw and drew her close.

His kiss was soft.
Achingly
soft. Sweet. As if he was more afraid than she. He touched her upper lip, then both. His breath was light. “Lace,” he whispered, drawing back. His gaze searched hers and suddenly she held nothing back. Everything she felt for him gathered in her eyes.
I think I love you, Jim Micah.

He kissed her again. This time with surety. But just as perfectly. She closed her eyes and shut out everything but the feel of his lips on hers.

He curled his arm around her. “Lace,” he repeated and deepened his kiss.

She felt a thousand private hopes take flight. Jim Micah.
In her arms.
This was what she’d secretly dreamed of for two years, even before she’d met John. Selfishly, after John had left for West Point, she’d hoped maybe they’d simply drift apart and Micah would become more than a friend. But John had kept calling, showing up at her doorstep during Christmas vacations, and well, Micah had never … really …

But now he had his strong arms around her, tasting of strength, of friendship, of her future. It knotted her throat, and she didn’t dare breathe.

He broke away, breathing hard. “Lacey, stop … please.

We … can’t …”

She stared at his sickened expression, and horror drew over her like the cold lick of gooseflesh.

He looked away, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of her. He even closed his eyes. “Oh, Lacey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. John is going to kill me.”

He would have inflicted less pain if he’d kicked her in the heart. Instead he pushed her away and stood up. He blocked the sun, and water dripped off his now plastered T-shirt. His gaze landed on her and his expression looked terribly like regret. She clenched her jaw and held up her hand.

He pulled her up. “Let’s get back to the farm.” He didn’t wait for her as he stalked toward the horses.

As he walked away, she knew. For a brief second, she’d seen his desires fill his eyes. And she knew they matched her own. He might not say it, but he loved her too.

But she was John’s girl.

Now Lacey stood in the nook of the maples and let the breeze obliterate the echo of that memory. She
had
loved Jim Micah. And she thought he’d loved her. But she’d been wrong, and after that fateful night there had been no turning back.

It felt like she’d been running ever since.

Lacey scanned the horizon one last moment, saw nothing, and crouched to sprint for the hill.

A rustle of brush behind her made her freeze. She turned, then stifled a cry as a form launched toward her.

The woman had the reflexes of a tiger. Micah rubbed his chin, feeling a welt growing where Lacey had kicked him, and glared at her.

“I suppose I should get used to you tracking me down, but please, Micah, believe me when I say you don’t want to be here.” She sat against the maple tree, breathing hard and massaging her shoulder.

He hadn’t meant to take her down, aiming instead to clamp his hand over her mouth and keep her quiet. Obviously his stealth skills needed some polishing. “Why did you take off on me?”

She gave him a look that made him feel like a toddler.

“Okay, so maybe I deserved that. But, hello, I’ve mentioned more than once that I’m on your side. Do I have to tattoo it to my forehead?”

She closed her mouth, and for a second, he thought he saw her face crumple. But spy that she’d been, she recovered in a nanosecond. “Maybe you did say that. But frankly, I don’t know who to trust. I’m sorry. I’m not turning myself in.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

She held up her hand. “And I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Again he opened his mouth.

“I know, I know. You’re already hurt.” She pursed her lips and looked away. “I don’t want you getting
killed
.”

Oooh, that was new information. He stared at her, saw strain on her face that he hadn’t seen before. “Who might kill me, Lacey?”

She said nothing.

“Okay, listen, like I keep saying, I’m a big boy. I’ve been around the block more than once, and obviously, you’re still hurting from the accident. I see it on your face. So until I know what this is all about, let’s just focus on Emily. She’s lost, and you’re in trouble. And I care.”

She shot him a look of surprise, but he ignored it and kept on. “What’s more important here is that you’re not going to get into the stable without me. I drove around the main road. There are at least three NSA teams, one of which is comprised of sharpshooters. And they’re in the house, having a little face-to-face with your brother.”

Lacey grimaced. “I hope Sam is okay.”

Micah shrugged. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of stories the NSA might be telling her little brother. Or what he already knew. When Micah had seen him in church a few weeks back, Sam hadn’t breathed a word about Lacey. Micah assumed the guy hadn’t seen her in years. “He doesn’t know anything, does he?”

“What, like I’m a spy running from the government?” She smiled wryly as she worked her shoulder. “No, I managed to keep that tidbit of information to myself. Somehow. It’s not like it is Thanksgiving dinner conversation.”

“So your brother doesn’t know about Emily?”

Her face darkened. “Yes, he does. As does Janie. Emily has lived with Janie most of her life.”

Micah hadn’t expected that. Although he hadn’t really been able to wrap his mind around Lacey as a mother either. She’d jumped from young and innocent to sassy and tough and stayed there. There wasn’t room for softness in that description. At least the kind that came with motherhood. Still, if he knew Lacey and her commitment to family and the way she grieved her own mother’s death, she wouldn’t easily hand over her motherhood reins to anyone. Even big sister Janie.

Lacey lifted the binoculars to her eyes and peered out. “I think we can go now. I don’t see any movement.”

“Don’t think for a minute that I don’t recognize my field glasses, by the way. I guess we can add thievery to your list of felonies.”