Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers (127 page)

"Yeah. Luck."

"For God's sake, Frank. I did what I had to do."

She flicked her hair behind her shoulder with a quick toss of her head. He still loomed over her so she ducked past him, desperately wanting to put some distance between them, to go somewhere she could release her pent up emotions.

"Did you have to make me believe you loved me? Did you have to let me fall in love with you?"

His words acted like a cold fist encircling her heart, squeezing, merciless, unrelenting. She turned back to face him.

"I didn't mean for that to happen."

The light glittered off his eyes like sparks of electricity. She could tell his anger had boiled up a notch.

"Damn you! Why didn't you steer clear of me? Were you worried I'd interfere with your case? Take credit? "

She turned away to hide the searing pain his words caused. "I didn't know you were an agent when I met you, Frank."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back around to face him. "Then why didn't you tell me what you were once you found out? We could have worked together… We could have—"

"No, Frank! Don't you understand? I couldn't tell anyone about my cover. You only know now because we've been assigned to work together."

"You didn't trust me."

The flat statement hinted at internal scars.

"I couldn't trust anyone!" She paced away from him. "Why can't you understand that? I'd spent six years working through the family, gaining a secure position, gaining their trust. I couldn't just throw it away for…" Her eyelids pinched together as she realized what she'd said.

"For love? But you never really loved me, did you?"

His bitter words cut through her. She spun back to face him.

"Frank, I…"

He watched her expectantly.

She wanted to tell him how much she had cared for him—but she wouldn't. Her job was everything to her and she couldn't give it up for…anything. These were waters too deep and bitter to disturb. Let him hate her. It would be better for both of them in the long run. She had a personal debt to settle with the mob and not even love would get in the way.

"Nothing. I…I'm sorry, that's all."

She knew her eyes showed too much as she stood staring up at him, but the range of emotions washing over his face mesmerized her. Pain was the strongest, followed by vulnerability. She felt tears welling up, tears she could barely suppress as she realized just how deeply she'd hurt him. He used his anger to protect himself, converting it to rage in a desperate attempt to keep her at a distance. But she could tell it wasn't working.

If she could read so much from him, what could he read from her right now?

"I can't forget you." He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly as he spoke. "I can't forget what it was like to kiss you, to want you so badly I'd give up everything for you. I've been haunted by your face…your eyes…the feel of you in my arms." His gaze slashed across her face and he looked like a man tortured from within. "God, I still want you now."

Angel could see he hated himself for it. The conflicting emotions in his eyes told her of the internal battle he waged and, as he reached out with one trembling hand to stroke her cheek, Angel feared she wouldn't like the outcome.

His arms swept around her, his lips coming down on hers in a bruising, punishing kiss, transferring only anger and a desire to hurt, with nothing of what should pass between a man and a woman in love. Even so, the warmth of his body against hers and the scent of him in her nostrils pulled at her passions like the moon pulled the tides, tumultuous and pounding. She'd never felt this way with any other man. Ever.

He raised his lips from hers, his gaze fixed on her face. She remembered a time when his eyes, shining with tenderness, had filled with love as he gazed at her. This piercing glare was as far from tender as fire from water.

"Come on, Frank. You don't really believe you can punish someone with a kiss, do you?" She had to throw him off balance. She couldn't let him know his kisses devastated her.

He leered at her. "I know it's no punishment to you. You use love as a tool of the trade, don't you?"

If he had struck her it wouldn't have hurt as much. Despite his words, the dark desire flaring in his eyes told her he would take her lips again.

"Why are you doing this?" she appealed.

"I've wanted you ever since I first met you. Even hating you doesn't make it go away."

She jerked out of his grasp and tried to push past him but he snared her again, pressing her up against the wall. The tension in the room shimmered with violent potential.

"Frank, don't," she said in a strangled tone. "Don't do this." She hated the pleading in her voice.

He ignored her as he swept his gaze down to her breasts. She could feel her nipples swell under the delicate fabric of her blouse.
How can they do that?
How can my body respond to him when he's behaving like this? When I know it's so wrong?

And where had all her strength gone? She was not a weak person, yet she couldn't seem to pull away from him. Part of it was guilt, she knew that. Frank had been hurt. By her. But it was more than that. Feelings long suppressed tore through her thin barrier of control. She wanted to be with him, to love him and be loved by him. All the reasons she couldn't let this happen slipped away.

"We were good together," he said, his voice husky. He pulled her close to him and brushed his lips across her temple. "Don't you remember?"

Her blood rose in her veins and bubbled up into her face as though it would burn through the skin of her cheeks. How could he compare this angry possession to what they'd been to each other?

"No!" she cried.

Their gazes locked and burning anger flared between them. She saw the brief struggle in his eyes before his mouth captured hers again. His tongue darted out and forced her lips apart. Angel was disoriented by this sudden onslaught. Words she could handle, but this.… If he was anyone else he'd be flat on the floor by now. But this was Frank and—oh, Lord—how could he do this to her?

How could he believe what he did about her?

Her body, oblivious to her mental anguish, ordered her to surrender, to give herself over to the sweet longings she'd kept locked inside for so long. Her mind, somehow allowing reason to rule, ruthlessly pulled the reins back on her passion.

Yes, she wanted him, but he had no place in her life. Even if he did, clearly Frank would never forgive her for what she'd done.

His insistent tongue forced her mouth wide, plundering, devouring. A knock on the door startled them both.

Angel pulled back from Frank's burning lips. He blinked down at her, looking like a man who'd just awakened from a dream, or rather, a nightmare. Shock crept across his features.

Frank swung away from her and strode across the room. He stood leaning against the window, his hands gripping the edge, his knuckles white. Angel could see his tortured expression reflected in the glass, his eyelids scrunched tightly together, his features frozen in a mask of anguish.

She heard the clicking sound of the door latch releasing as the knob turned. By the time Hal stepped in Frank was composed once again.

"Frank, you and I are meeting with Dennis in an hour. Why don't you grab some lunch and meet us back here?"

Frank nodded then flicked a cool gaze in Angel's direction. "I'll see you later, Angel."

It sounded like a threat.

She glanced away toward the window, seeking the New York skyline but finding only obscuring mists of fog. The thump of the door signaled Frank's departure.

Angel held her back stiff and straight, her expression closed.

"Cindy, sit down before you fall down. You're as white as your shirt."

Slowly she sank into the nearest chair. "Maybe you should start calling me Angel, Hal. I get the impression O'Connor thinks I'm pulling one over on you every time you call me by my real name."

"If it'll make you more comfortable, I'll do that…Angel. Look, do you want to tell me what's going on between you two?"

She and Hal had known each other for a very long time. He'd recruited her almost eleven years ago and they'd worked together since then. Although they only saw each other a few times a year, she knew she could always rely on him. If she ever decided to pull out of her cover, she knew he'd back her up. Not that she ever would. Her work was the most important thing in her life. Actually, it was her life. If she didn't believe that, she couldn't work effectively undercover, she'd always reasoned.

Hal had become like a brother to her. An older, protective brother. And that meant he was the only family she had.

"You remember when Cavaglione dragged me to Hawaii."

"Of course. I'm still sore that I had to stay here."

"I met Frank on my off time, waiting for Cavaglione during his interminable meetings. We started dating and…" Her fists clenched as tight as her chest. "I didn't know he was an agent. I figured he was just a tourist and nothing would come of it." Oh, God, she would never have put him in such danger if she'd known. She clutched the armrests of the chair. "The night Cavaglione and I were busted, I…I had to turn Frank over to Cavaglione."

She batted at her cheeks with her fingers to dash away the tears that had slipped out. Hal pulled a tissue out of a box on the table and handed it to her. She grabbed one and dried her eyes.

"Ahh. That explains his reaction to you." He sighed heavily. "So, he's the one you tipped me off about? The one the Hawaiian team got out during the bust?"

She nodded.

"You took an awful chance doing that."

"I had no choice. I couldn't just—" She gulped back the sob forming in her throat. The echoes of Frank's pain-filled groans as Cavaglione's henchmen worked him over, reverberated through time.

Hal stepped out from behind his desk and sat in the chair beside Angel, taking her hand in his. "Look, Angel. Everything will work out okay. Once Frank has time to think about all this, he'll realize you were just doing your job. He's still fighting the belief that you're the enemy. By tomorrow, he'll accept the truth."

"Don't worry, Hal. I can weather it."

"I know you can but… Listen, I have to ask this. Are you sure you're going to be okay working with him?"

"I just told you—"

"I know what you told me but what I mean is… You two had something going before. Do you…care about each other?"

"You mean do we love each other, don't you? No way. We never really knew each other. We were both undercover."

She went to the window and stared out into the white mists, feeling the isolation, knowing how those buildings felt, each enshrouded in gauze, cut off from the others while standing among them. Her mind reached out to those lonely companions.
It isn't so bad,
she told them.
If you stand alone you don't get hurt. Believe me, you only hurt when you let them see you. Hide inside your cover and no one can touch you. It's much easier that way.

She felt Hal's presence behind her. His huge hand gently rested on her shoulder and she turned to face him. He was a big man, towering above her, but she felt safe with him. He cared.

Funny that she should feel close to a man whom she only saw a handful of times a year and who had recruited her into the most dangerous career she could have chosen. But it was what she'd needed, still needed. She was doing something important and that gave her life meaning. If it hadn't been for Hal, she dreaded thinking about where she'd be now.

"Angel, you and I go back a long way and I know you better than anyone. If you can't be objective, I can't put you together on this case. No matter what I told O'Connor."

She slumped onto a chair again, thumping her elbows on the table and leaning her face on her palms. It was tempting, to take the out Hal offered. After a moment, she slid her fingers through her hair and leaned back. Allowing Hal to pull Frank from the case would mean a delay in finding the informant, endangering a lot of people. She couldn't put her own discomfort ahead of others. And she couldn't give Frank the satisfaction of knowing he rattled her. She scrubbed at her face and sighed, then got up and fixed herself a cup of coffee.

"Hal, believe me, there is no future for Mr. O'Connor and me. And even if I were attracted to him, I would never let anyone or anything endanger my job. You know how important my cover is, how long I've worked to establish it."

No one knew better than Hal.

"I know, Angel. Sometimes I think it means too much. You'll have to give it up eventually."

"No!" She paced away from him.

"Look, you don't have to keep paying for what happened when you were just a kid—"

She whirled around to face him again. "Hal, I'm not giving up my cover. I can make a difference. I have a chance of moving up higher in the organization and getting information that could really hurt them."

"You could also get caught…and killed…just like—"

She slammed her fist on the table with a resounding thud. "That's not why I'm doing this and you know it!" At Hal's blatant look of disbelief, her anger cooled enough to add, "All right, that's not the only reason. Look, Hal, what's wrong with wanting to make a difference, wanting to do something worthwhile with my life?"

"You already have, Angel."

"But it's not enough. I can—"

"Face it. It'll never be enough." He grabbed her hand and stopped her frantic pacing. "You'll keep on and on until life has passed you by. You deserve a life of your own. You deserve to be yourself, to respect yourself. Angel, I know what it costs you to work with those people day in and day out, to have people believe you're one of them. I know it's not easy."

"Life isn't meant to be easy," she snapped.

"But it's not meant to be hell, either. You know we could give you a position in the Bureau where you could still make a difference."

She glared at him. "I can't do a damn desk job, Hal!"

"It doesn't have to be a desk job. There's still field work you can do. With your knowledge of the ins and outs of the syndicate you could do investigative work."

"Forget it, Hal. I'm not giving up my cover and that's final. I would think you'd be glad. It took a lot of time and effort on both our parts to get me where I am today and it's really paying off."